Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 228, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 September 1914 — The PLACE Of HONEYMOONS [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The PLACE Of HONEYMOONS

MOONS by HAROLD MAC GRATH

Pictures & a C.D. L RHODEI

SYNOPSIS. Eleanora do Toscana was singing In 'Paris, which, perhaps, accounted for Edward Courtlandt's appearance there. Multimillionaire, he Wandered about where fancy dictated. He might be in Paris one iday and Kamchatka the next. Following the opera he goes to a case and is accosted by a pretty young woman. She iglves him the address of Flora Desimone, ' vocal rival of Toscana, and Flora gives him the address of>Eleanora. whom, he is 'determined to see. Courtlandt enters i Eleanora’s apartments. She orders him out and shoots at him. The next day Paris is shocked by the mysterious disappearance of the prima donna. Realizing 'that he may be suspected of the abduc•tlon of Eleanora Courtlandt arranges for tan. alibi. Eleanora reappears and accuses Courtlandt of having abducted her. His lallbl is satisfactory to the police and the {charge Is dismissed. Eleanora flees to {Lake Como to rest after the shock. She 'to followed by a number of her admirers. Among them the prince who really procured her abduction. CHAPTER Vl—Continued. "That expression proves that your 'Highness is sane again. Have you realized the annoyances, the embarrassments, you have thrust upon me by your pursuit? Have you not read the scandalous innuendoes in the newspapers? Your Highness, J was not ' bom o$ ‘the Continent, so I look upon my w6rk from a point of view not common to those of your caste. I am ■proud of it, and I look upon it with honor, honor. I am a woman, but I ana not wholly defenseless. There was a time when I thought I might number among my friends a prince; but you have made that impossible.” "Come,” he said hoarsely; “let us go and find a priest. You are right. I love you; I will give up everything, everything!”

For a moment sbe was dumb. This absolute surrender appalled her. But that good fortune which had ever been at her side stepped Into the breach. And as she saw the tall form of the Barone approach, she could have thrown her arms around his neck In pure gladness. "Oh, Barone!” she called. “Am I making you miss this dance?" “It does not matter, signorlna” The Barone stared keenly at the erect and tense figure at the prima donna’s side. “You will excuse me, Herr Rosen/’ said Nora, as she laid her hand upon the Barone’s arm. Herr Rosen bowed stiffly; and the two left him standing uncovered in the moonlight „ “What is he doing here? What has he been saying to you?’ the Barone demanded. Nora withdrew her hand from his arm. “Pardon me,” said he contritely. “I have no right to ask you such questions.” It was not long after midnight when the motor-boat returned to its abiding place. On the way over conversation lagged, and finally died altogether. Mrs. Harrigan fell asleep against Celeste’s shoulder, and the musician never deviated her gaze from the silver ripples which flowed out diagonally and magically from the prow of the boat. Nora watched the stars slowly ascend over the eastern range of mountains; and across the fire of his innumerable cigarettes the Barone watched her.

As the boat was made fast to the landing in front of the Grand hotel. Celeste observed a man in evening dress, lounging against the rail of the quay. The search light from the customs boat, hunting for tobacco smugglers, flashed over his face. She could not repress the little gasp, and her hand tightened upon Nora’s arm. "What is it?” asked Nora. “Nothing. I thought I was slipping."

CHAPTER VII. Colonel Caxley-Webster. Abbott’s studio was under the roof of one of the little hotels that stand timorously and humbly, yet expectantly. between the imposing cream-stuc-co of the Grand hotel at one end and the elaborate pink-stucco of the Grande Bretegne at the other. The hob-nailed shoes of the Teuton (who wears his mountain kit all the way from Hamburg to Palermo) wore up and down the stairs all day; and the racket from the hucksters' carts and hotel omnb buses, arriving and departing from the steamboat landing, the shouts of the begging boatmen, the quarreling of the children and the barking of unpedigreed dogs—these noises were Incessant from dawn until sunset. The artist glared down from his square window at the ruffled waters, or scowled at the fleeting snows on t|ie mountains over the way. He .passed some ten or twelve minutes in this useless occupation, but he could not get away from the bald fact that he had acted like a petulant child. To have shown his hand so openly, simply becaoae the Barone had beaten him in Abe race for the motor-boat! And

Nora would understand that he waa weak and without backbone. Harrfgan himself must have reasoned out the cause for such asinine plays as he had executed in the game of check* era. How many times had the old man called out to him to wake up and move? In spirit he had been across the lake, a spirit in Hades. He was not only a fool, but a coward likewise. He had not dared to .. . . put it to tb« touch To gain or lose it all. „ He saw it coming; before long he and that Italian would be at each other’s throats. < - "Come In!” he called, ia response to a Budden thunder on the door. The door opened and a short, energetic old man, purple-visaged and hawk-eyed, came in. "Why the devil don’t you join the Trappist monks, Abbott? If I wasn’t tough I should have died of apoplexy on the second landing.’ “Good morning, Colonel!” Abbott laughed and rolled out the patent rocker for his guest. “What’s on yonr mind this morning? I can give# you one without ice.”

“I’ll take it neat, my boy. I’m not thirsty, I’m faint. These Italian architects; they call three ladders flights of stairs! . . . Ha! That’s Irish whisky, and jolly fine. Want you Jo come over and take tea this afternoon. I’m going up presently to see the Harrigans. Thought I’d go afound and do the thing informally. Taken a fancy to the old chap. He’s a JittlS bit of all right. I’m no older than he is, but look at the difference! Whisky and soda, that’s the racket. Not by the tubful; just an ordinary half dozen a day, and a dem climate thrown in ” "Difference in training.”

“Rot! It’s the sized hat a man wears. I’d give fifty guineas to see the old fellow in action. Bat, I say; recall the argument we had before you went to Paris?” "Yes.” “Well, I win. Saw him bang across the street-this morning.” Abbott muttered something. “What was that?” "Nothing.” “Sounded like ‘dem it’ to me.” “Maybe it did.” "Heard about him in Paris?” “No.”

“The old boy had transferred his regiment to a lonesome post in the North to cool his blood. The youngster took the next train to Paris. He was there incognito for two weeks before they found him and bundled him back. Of course, every one knows that he is but a crazy lad who’s had too much freedom.” The colonel emptied his glass. “I feel dem sorry for Nora. She’s the right sort. But a woman can’t take a man by the scruff of his neck and chuck him.” “But I can,” declared Abbott savagely. “Tut, tut! He’d eat you alive. Besides, you will find him too clever to give you an opening. But he’ll bear watching. He’s capable of putting her on a train and running away with her. Between you and me, I don’t bladie him. What’s the matter with sicking the Barone on him? He’s the best man in southern Italy with foils and broadswords. Sic ’em, Towser; sic ’em! ’’ The old fire-eater chuckled.

The subject was extremely distasteful to the artist. The colonel, a rough soldier, whose diplomacy had never risen above the heights of clubbing a recalcitrant hillman into submission, baldly inferred that he understood the artist’s interest in the rose of the Harrigan family. He would have liked to talk more in regard to the interloper, but it would have been sheer folly. The colonel, in his blundering way, would have brought up the subject again at tea-time and put everybody on edge. He had, unfortunately for his friends, a reputation other than that of a soldier; he prosed as a peacemaker. He saw trouble where none existed, and the way he patched up imaginary quarrels would have strained the patience of Job. Still, every one loved him, though they lived in mortal fear of him. So Abbott came about quickly and Bailed against the wind.

■ "By the wav.” he said, T wish you would let me sketch that servant of yours. He's got a profile like a medallion. Where did you pick him up?” "In the Hills. He’s a Sikh, and a first-class fighting man. Didn't know that you went for faces.” ‘‘Not as a usual thing. Just want it for ’my own use. How does he keep his beard combed that way?” “I’ve never bothered myself about the curl of his whiskers. Are my clothes laid out? Luggage attended to? Guns shipshape? That’s enough for me. Some day you have got to go out there with me.” “Never shot a gun in all my life. I don’t know which end to hold at my shoulder.”

“Teach you quick enough. Every man’s a born hunter. Rao wIH have tigers eating out of your hand. He’s a marvel; saved my hide more than once. Funny thing; you can’t show ’em that you’re grateful. Lose caste if you do. I rather miss it Get the East in your blood and you’ll never get it out. Fascinating! But my liver turned over once too many times. Ha! Some one coming up to bujr a picture.” The step outside was firm and unwearied by the climb. The door opened unceremoniously, and Courtlandt came in. He stared at the colonel and the colonel returned the stare. “Caxley-Webster! ‘Well, I Bay, this globe goes on shrinking every day!” cried Courtlandt. ~ ,; ? , The two pumped bands energetically. sizing each other up critically. Then they sat down and shot questions, while Abbott looked on bewildered. Elephants And tigers and chittabs and wild boar and quail-running and strange guttural names; weltering nights In the jungles, freezing morn-

tags in the Hills; stupendous card games; and what had become of so-and-so, who always drank his whisky neat; and what’s-his-name, who invented cures for snake bites! Abbott deliberately pushed over an oak bench. “Am I host here or notf* “Abby, old man, how are you?" said Courtlandt, smiling warmly and holding out his hand. “My apologies; bat the colonel and I never expected to see each other again. And I find him talking with you up here under this roof. It’s marvelous.” “It’s a wonder you wouldn’t drop a fellow a line,” said Abbott, in a faultfinding tone, as he righted the bench. “When did you come?" “Last night. Came np from Como.” "Going to stay long?” "That depends. lam really on my way to Zermatt. I've a hankering,to have another try at the Matterhorn.” “Think of that!’’ exclaimed the colonel. “He says another try.” “You came a roundabout way,” was the artist’s comment. “Oh, that’s because I left Paris for Brescia. They had some good flights there. Wonderful year! They cross the channel in an airship and discover the North Pole.” “Pah! Neither will be of any use to humanity; merely a fine sporting proposition.” The colonel dug into his pocket for his pipe. “But what do you think of Germany?” "Fine country,” answered Courtlandt, rising and going to a window; “fine people, too. Why?” “Do you—er —think they could whip us?”

"On land, yes.” "The devil!” ' "On water, no.” “Thanks. In other words, you believe our chances equal?” “So equal that all this war-scare is piffle. But I rather like to see you English get up in the air occasionally. It will do you good. You’ve an idea because you walloped Napoleon that you’re the same race you were then, and you are not. The Englishspeaking races, as the first soldiers, have ceased to be.”

“Well, I be dem!” gasped the colonel. “It’s the truth. Take the American, he thinks there is nothing in the world but money. Take the Britisher, to him caste is everything. Take the money out of one man's mind and the importance of being well-born out of the other . . .” He turned from* the window and smiled at the artist and the empurpling Anglo-Indian. “Abbott,” growled the soldier, “that man will some day drive me amuck. What do you think? One night, on a tiger hunt, he got me into an argument like this. A brute of a beast jumped into the middle of it Courtlandt shot him on the second bound, and turned to me with —‘Well, as I was saying!’ I don’t know to this day whether it was nerve or what you Americans call gall.” “Divided by two,” grinned Abbott. “Ha, I see; half nerve and half gall. I’ll remember that. But we were talking of airships.”

“I was” retorted _Courtlandt. “You were the man who started the powwow.” He looked down into the street with sudden interest. “Who is that?” The colonel and Abbott hurried across the room.

“What did I say, Abbott? 1 told you I saw him. He’s crazy; fact. Thinks he can travel around incognito when there isn’t a magazine on earth that hasn’t printed his picture.” “Well, why shouldn't he travel around if he wants to?” asked Courtlandt coolly. The colonel nudged the artist. “There happens to be an attraction in Bellaggio,” said Abbott irritably. “The moth and the candle,” supplemented the colonel, peering over Courtlandt’s shoulder. "“He’s well set up,” grudgingly admitted the old fellow. (TO BE CONTINUED.)