Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 226, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 September 1914 — The PLACE Of HONEYMOONS [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The PLACE Of HONEYMOONS

MOONS by HAROLD MAC GRATH

Pfcfcjres & | C.D. JL mm l

SYNOPSIS. *V f do Toscana was ringbit la Parts, which, perhaps, accounted for Edward. Courtlandt's appearance there. MulthnllHonatre, ho wandered about Where fancy dictated. He might be in Paris one day and Kamchatka the next. Following ’the opera he goes to a case and is accosted by a pretty young woman. She gtves him the address of Flora Desimone, vocal rival of Toscana, and Flora gives him the address of Kleanora. whom he Is determined to see. Courtlandt enters Eleonora's apartments. She orders him out and shoota at him. The next day Paris is shocked by the mysterious disappearance of the prima donna. Realising that be may be suspected of the abduction of EUeanora Courtlandt arranges for an alibi. Eleanors reappears and accuses Courtlandt of having abducted her. His alibi la satisfactory to the police and the charge Is dismissed. * • CHAPTER V—Continued. “No, none at all, monsieur,” quickly and decidedly. - . > “In my opinion, then, the whole affair Is a hoax, perpetrated to vex 'and annoy you. The old man who employed the chauffeur may not have (been old. I have. looked upon all sides of the affair, and it begins to look like a practical joke, mademoiselle." "Ah!" angrily. "And am I tohaveno redress? Think of the misery 1 have gone through, the suspense! My voice 4s gone. I shall not be able to.sing Again for months. Is It your suggestion that I drop the investigation?" "Yes, mademoiselle, for it does not Hook as It. we couldget anywhere with lit If yod Insist I will hold Monsieur <?ourtl&ndt; but I warn you the magistrate would not hesitate. to dlsknlss the case instantly. Monsieur Court* Jandt arrived In Marseilles Thursday (morning; he reached Paris Friday {morning. Since arriving In Paris he has fully accounted for his time. It Is impossible that he could have arranged for the abduction. Stilly If you say, I can hold him for entering your Apartment" "That would be but a farce." Nora rose. "Monsieur, permit me to wish you good day. For my part I shall

.pursue this matter to the end. I be- * Jleve this gentleman guilty, and I shall do my beet to prove lt. I>am a ■woman, and all alone. When a man has powerful friends, it is not difficult ■to build an alibi." "That is a reflection upon my word, tmadonoiaelle,” quietly Interposed the (minister.-

’ "Monsieur has been Imposed upon,” INora walked to the door. “Wait a moment, mademoiselle," said the prefect, "Why do you insist ■upon prosecuting him for something of •which he is guiltless, when you could Stave him held for something of which —. he Is really guilty?" "The one is trivial; the other is a * serious outrage. Good morning." The (attendant closed the door behind her. "A very determined young woman," mused the chief of police. . "Exceedingly,” agreed the minister. Courtlandt got up wearily. But the chief motioned him to be reseated. "I do not say that I dare not pursue my investigations; but now that mademoiselle is safely returned, I prefer not to." "May I ask who made this request?" asked Courtlandt "Request? Tee, monsieur, it was a request not to proceed further." jir "From where?” "As to that you will have to consult the bead of the state. I am not at liberty to make the disclosure." The minister leaned forward eager- - ly. "Then there is a political side to it?"' “There would be if everything had not turned out so fortunately." "I believe I understand now,” said Courtlandt his face t hardening. Strange. $e had not thought of it before. His skepticism had blinded him to all but one angle. “Your advice to drop the matter is excellent" The chief of police elevated his brows interrogatively. "For 1 presume," continued CourtlandC rising, "that mademoiselle’s abductor is by this time safely across the frontier.” CHAPTER VI. T Battling Jimmie.' There is a heavenly terrace, flanked by marvelous trees. To the left, far down below, is a curving, dark-shaded, -turquoise body of water called Lecco; to the right there lies the queen of lakes, the crown of Italy, a corn-flower sapphire known as Como. It is the Place of‘ Honeymoons. lovers come and idle there; apd* lovers of modest means rush up to it and down (from it to catch the next steamer to Menagglo. Eros was not born in Greece: of all barren mountains, un- . stirring, Hymettus, or Olympus, or whatever they -called it te- the days «f the junketing gods, la completest

No; Venus went a-tourlng and abode a jghile upon this same gracious spot once dear to Pliny the younger. Beated on one of the rustic benches, his white tennis shoes resting against the lower Iron of the railing, a Bavarian dachel snoozing comfortably across his knees, was a man of fifty. He was broad of shoulder, deep of chest and clean-shaven. He had laid aside tfis Panama hat, and his hair was dipped closely, and was pleasantly and honorably sprinkled with gray. His face was broad and tanned; the nose was tilted, and the wide mouth was both kindly and humorous. One knew, from the tint of hie bine eyes and the quirk of his lips, that when he spoke there Would be a bit of brogue. He was James Harritan, one time celebrated In the ring for his gameness, his squareness, his endurance; "Battling Jimmie" Harrigan, who, when he encountered his first knockout retired from the ring. He had to his credit eixty-one battles, of which he had easily won forty. He had been outpointed In some and had broken even in others; but only once had he been “railroaded Into dreamland," to use the parlance of the game. That was enough. He understood. Youth would be served, and he was no longer young. He had, unlike the many In his peculiar service, lived cleanly and with wisdom and foresight: he had saved both his money and big health. Today he waa at peace #tth the world, with three sound .appetites the day sad the wherewithal to gratify them. Today “Battling Jimmie" was forgotten by the public, and he was happy In the Beclualon of this forgetfulness. A new and. strange career had opened up before him; he was the father of the most beautiful prima donna In the operatic world, and, difficult as the task was, he did his best to live up to it It was hard not to offer to shake hands when he was presented to a princess or a duchess; it was hard to remember when to change the studs in his shirt; and a white cravat was the terror. of his nights,, for blB fingers, broad and etubby and powerful, had not, been trained to. the delicate task of tying a bowknot By a judicious blow in that spot where the ribs divaricate he could right well tie his adversary into a bowknot, but this string of white lawn was a most damnable. thing. Still, the puttering of the two women, their daily concern over his deportment, was.bringing him into conformity with social usages. One thing he rebelled against openly, and with such firmness that the women did not press him too strongly for fear of a general revolt On no occasion, however Impressive, would he wear a silk hat Christmas and birthdays Invariably called forth the gift of a silk hat, for the women trusted that they could overcome resistance by persistence. He never said anything, but it was noticed that the hotel porter, or the gardener, or whatever masculine head (eave his own) was available, came forth resplendent on feast days and Sundays.

Leaning back in an iron chair, with hie shoulders resting against the oak, was the Barone, altogether a different type. He was frowning over the pages of Bagot’s Italian Lakes, and he wasn’t making much headway. He was Italian to the core, for all that he aped the English Btyle and mariner. He could speak the tongue with fluency, but he stumbled and faltered miserably over the soundless type. His clothes had the Piccadilly, cut, and his-mustache, erstwhile waxed and militant, was cropped at the corners, thoroughly insular. He was thirty, and undeniably handsome. Neqr the fountain, on the green, was a third man. He was in the act Of folding up an easel and a campstool.

From a' window in the villa came a voice; only a lilt of a melody, no words, —half a dozen bars /from Martha; but every delightful note went deep into the three masculine hearts. Harrigan smiled and patted tlfe dog. The Italian scowled at the vegetable garden directly below. The jutist scowled at the-Italian., “Frits,' Frits; here, Frits!" r The dog struggled in Harrlgan’s hands and . torn himself loose. He went clattering over the path toward . the Villa and disappeared into the doorway. Nothing could keep him when that voice called. He was as ardent a lover as any, and far more favored. “Oh, you funny little dog! • You merry little dachel! Fritz, mustn’t; let go!” Silence. The artist knew that she was cuddling. the puppy to her heart, and his own grew twisted. He stoopdfemcer hla materials again and tied the bug) to the easel and the atoofakbtf shifted/ them under his arm. x/ 7 * "I’ll be up after dinner, gan.” he said. - V "All right, Abbott.” Harrigan whved his hand pleasantly. He was becoming so used to the unvarying statement that Abbott would be up after dinner, that his reply was by new purely mechanical. "She’s getting her voice back all right; eb?*‘ "Beautifully! But I really don't think Bhe ought to sing at the Haines’ villa Shnday.” -‘One song won’t hurt her. She’s made up her mind to sing. There’s nothing for os to do but to sit tight.” The artist took the path that led around the villa and thence down by many steps to the village by the waterside, to the cream-tinted cluster of shops and enormous hotels. Below, in the village, a man entered the Grand hotel. He was tall, blond, rosy-cheeked. He carried himself like one used to military service; also, like one used to giving peremptory orders. The porter bowed, the director bowed, and the proprietor himself became tr 11 v Air carpenter's square, hinged. The porter and the director recognized a personage; the proprietor reoognlsod

the man. It was of no consequence that the new arrival called himself Herr Rosen. Be wm> assigned to a suite of rooms, and on returning to the burea", the proprietor squinted his eyes abstractedly. He knew every woman of importance at that time residing on the Point Certainly It could be none of these. Himmel! He struck his bands together. So that was it: the singer. He recalled the hints In certain newspaper paragraphs, the little tales with the namho left to the imagination. So that was it? What a woman? Men looked at her and went mad" And not so long ago one had abducted her in Paris. The proprietor threw up his hands in despair. What was going to happen to the peace of this bucolic spot? The youth permitted nothing to stand in his way, and the singer's father was a retired fighter with boxing gloves!

In the ballroom that evening that little son of Satan called malice-afore-thought took possession of Nora; and there was havoc. If a certain American countess had not patronised her; if certain lorgnettes (Implements of tortnre used by said son of Satan) had not been leveled In her direction; if certain fans had not been suggestively spread between pairs/ of feminine heads, —Nora would have been as harmless as a playful kitten. From door to door of the ballroom her mother fluttered like a hen with a duckling. Even Celeste was disturbed, for tiie saw that Nora’s conduct was not due to any light-hearted fun. There was Something bitter and ironic cloaked by those smiles, that tinkle of laughter. In fact, Nora ffom Tuscany flirted outrageously, The Barone sulked and tore at his mustache. He committed any number of murders, by eye and by wish. When his time came to dance with the mis-chief-maker, he whirled her around savagely, and never said a word; and once done with, he sternly returned her to her mother, which he deemed the wisest course to pureuh. . "Nora, you are behaving abominably!’ whispered her mother, pale with Indignation.

“Well, I am having a good time .. . YoUr dance? Thank you." And a tender young American led her through the mazes of the waltz, as some poet who knew whatV he was about phrased it. By way of parenthesis: Herr Rosen marched up the. hill and down again, something after the manner of a certain warrior king celebrated in verse. The objeet of hiß visit had gone to the ball at Cadenabbia. At the hotel he demanded a motor boat There was none to be had. In a furious state of mind he engaged two oarsmen to row him across the like. * And so it came to pass that when Nora, suddenly grown weary of the play, full of bitterness and distaste, hating herself and every one else in the world, stole out to the quay to communejnrith the fnoon, she saw him jump from the boat to the landing, scorning the steps. Instantly she drew her lace mantle closely about her face. It wfa useless. In the man the hunter’s Instinct was much too keen. “So 1 have found you!" “One would say that I had been in hiding?” coldly. "From me, always. I have left everything—duty, obligations—to seek you.” “From any other man that might be a compliment.” “I am-a prince,” he said proudly. She faced him with that quick resolution, that swift forming of purpose, which has made the Irish so difficult in argument and persuasion. “Will you marry me? Will you make me your wife legally? Before all the world?. Will you- surrender, for the sake of this love you profess, your right to a great inheritance? Will you risk the anger and the iron hand of your father for my sake?” “Herr Gott! lam mad!” He covered .his eyea.. , CTO -BE CONTINUED.)