Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 230, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 September 1914 — The PLACE of HONEY-MOONS [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The PLACE of HONEY-MOONS

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SYNOPSIS. Eleanora de Toscana was singing In Parts. which, perhaps, accounted for Edward Courtlandt'a appearance there. Multimillionaire, he 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 gave 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 Eleanora's apartments. She orders him out and shoots at him. The next day Parts is shocked by the mysterious disappearance of the prima donna. Realizing that he may be suspected of the abduction of Eleanora Courtlandt arranges for an alibi. Eleanora reappears and accuses Courtlandt of having abducted her. His alibi is satisfactory to the police and the charge is dismissed. Eleanora flees to Lake Como to rest after the shock. She la followed by a number of her admirers, among them the prince who really procured her abduction. Courtlandt also goes to Como and there meets Jimmie Harrigan. retired prizefighter and father of Eleanora, whose real name is Nora Harrigan. Harrigan takes Courtlandt into his favor at once. CHAPTER Vll—Continued. “The moth and the candle,” mused Courtlandt. "That will be Nora Harrigan. How long has this Infatuation been going on?” "Year and a half.” i “And the-other side?” "There isn’t any other side,” ex t ploded the artist “She’s worried to death. Not a day passes but some scurrilous penny-a-liner springs some yarn, some beastly Innuendo. She’s been dodging the fellow for months. In Paris last year she couldn’t move without running into him. This year she changed her apartment and gave orders at the Opera to refuse her address to all who asked for it Consequently she had some peace. I don’t know why It is, but a woman in public life seems to be a target” “The penalty of beauty, Abby. Homely women seldom are annoyed, unless they become suffragists.” The colonel poured forth a dense cloud of smoke. "What brand is that Colonel?” asked Courtlandt choking. The colonel generously produced his pouch. “No, no! I was about to observe that it Isn’t ambrosia.” “Rotter!” The soldier dug the offender in the ribs. “I am going to have the Harrigans over for tea this afternoon. Come over! You’ll like the family. The girl is charming; and the father Is a sportsman to the backbone. Some silly fools laugh behind his back, but never before his face. And my word, I know rafts of gentlemen who are not fit to stand in his shoes.” "I should like to meet Mr. Harrigan." Courtlandt returned his gaze to the window once more. “And his daughter?” said Abbott, curiously. “Oh, surely!” I “I may count on you, then?" The colonel stowed away the offending brier. “And you can stay to dinner.” “I’ll take the dinner end of the invitation,” was the reply. “I’ve got to go over to Menagglo to see about some papers to be signed. If 1 can make the three o’clock boat in returning, you’ll see me at tea. Dinner at all events. I’m off.” Courtlandt walked up the street leisurely, idly pausing now and then before the shop windows. Apparently he had neither object nor destination; yet his mind was busy, so busy in fact that he looked at the various curios without truly seeing them at all. A delicate situation, which needed the lightest handling, confronted him. He must wait for an overt act, then he might proceed as he pleased. How really helpless he was! He could not force her hand because she held all the cards and he none. Yet he was determined this time to play the game to the end, even if the task was equal to air those of Hercules rolled into one, and none of the gods on his side. At the hotel be asked for his mat/’ and was given a formidable packet which, with a sigh of discontent, he slipped into a pocket, strolled out into the garden by the water, and sat down to read. To his surprise there was a note, without stamp or postmark. He opened it, mildly curious to learn who it was that had discovered his presence in Bellaggio so quickly. The envelope contained nothing more than a neatly folded bank note for one hundred francs. He eyed it stupidly. What might this mean? He unfolded it and smoothed ft otrt across hla knee, and the haze of puzzlement drifted away. Three bars from La Boheme. He laughed. So the little lady of the Taverns Royale was In Bellaggio! CHAPTER VIII. Marguerites and Eme>alds. By eleven o'clock Courtlandt had fiulsbsd the reading of his mail, and

was now rea> to hunt for the little 1 lady of the Taverne Royale. It was necessary to find her. The whereabouts of Flora Desimone was of vital importance. If she had not yet arrived, the presence of her friend presaged her ultimate arrival. He rose and proceeded on his quest. Before the photographer's shop he saw a dachel wrathfully challenging a cat on the balcony of the adjoining building. The cat knew, and so did the puppy, that it was all buncombe on the puppy’s part; the usual European war scare, in which one of the belligerent parties refused to come down because it wouldn’t have been worth while, there being the usual powers ready to intervene. Courtlandt did not bother about the cat; the puppy claimed his attention. He was very fond of dogs. So he reached down suddenly and put an end to the sharp challenge. The dachel struggled valiantly, for this breed of dog does not make friends easily. “I say, you little Dutchman, what's the row? I’m not going to hurt you. Funny little codger! To whom do you belong?” He turned the collar around, read the inscription, and gently put the puppy on the ground. . Nora Harrigan! His immediate impulse was to walk on, but somehow this impulse refused to act on his sense of locomotion. He waited, dully wondering what was going to happen when she came out He had left her room that night in Paris, vowing that he would never intrude on her again. With the recollection of that bullet whizzing past his ear, he had been convinced that the play was done. True, she had testified that it had been accidental, but never would he forget the look in her eyes. It was not pleasant to remember. And ‘btlll, as the needle is drawn by the magnet, here he was, in Bellaggio. He cursed his weakness. .. . Ah, voices! He stepped aside quickly. “Fritz, Fritz; where are you?” And a moment later she came out, followed by her mother . . . and the little lady of the Taverne Royale. Did Nora see him? It was impossible to tell.. She simply stooped and gathered up the puppy, who struggled determinedly to lick her face. Courtlandt lifted his hat. It was in nowise offered as an act of recognition; it was merely the mechanical courtesy that a man generally pays to any woman in whose path he chances to be for the breath of a second. The three women in immaculate white, hatless, but with sunshades, passed on down the street. “Nora, who was that?” asked Mrs. Harrigan. “Who was who?” countered Nora, snuggling the wriggling dachel under her arm and throwing the sunshade across her . shoulder. “That fine-looking young man who stood by the door as we passed out. He raised his hat.” “Oh, bother! I was looking at Frits.” Celeste searched her face keenly, but Nora looked on ahead serenely; not a quiver of an eyelid, not the slightest change in color or expression. “She did not see him!” thought the musician, curiously stirred.. She knew her friend tolerably well. It would have been impossible for her to have seen that man and not to have given evidence of the fact Mrs. Harrigan took the omnibus up to the villa. It was generally too much of a climb for her. Nora and Celeste preferred to walk. “What am I going to do, Celeste? He is here, and over at Cadenabbial last night I had a terrible scene with him. In heaven’s name, why can’t they let me be?” “Herr Rosen?" “Yes." “Why not speak to your father?” "And have a fisticuff which would appear in every newspaper In the world? No, thank you. There Is enough scandalous stuff being printed as it is, and I am helpless to prevent it.” As the climb starts off stiffly, there wasn’t much inclination in either to talk. Celeste had come to one decision, and that was that Norp. should find out Courtlandt’s presence here In Bellaggio herself. When they arrived at the villa gates. Celeste offered a suggestion. “You could easily stop all this rumor and annoyance.” “And, pray, how?” “Marry.” "I prefer the rumor and annoyance. I bate men. Most of them are beasts.” “You are prejudiced.” If Celeste expected Nora to reply that she had reason, she was disappointed. Nora quickened her pace, that was all. At luncheon Harrigan innocently threw a bomb Into camp by Inquiring: "Say, Nora, who’s this chump Herr Rosen? He was up here last night and again this morning. I was going to. offer him the cot on the balcony, but I thought I’d consult you first.” - “Herr Rosen!” exclaimed Mrs. Harrigan, a flutter in her throat “Why, that's.” “A charming young man who wishes me to sign a .contract to sing to him in perpetuity,” interrupted Nora, pressing her mother’s foot warnlngly. “Well, why don’t you marry him?” laughed Harrigan. “There’s worse things than frankfurters and sauerkraut." , “Not that I can think of just now,” returned Nora. Harrigan declared that he would not go over to Caxley-’Webster’s to tea. “But I’ve promised for you!” expostulated his wife. "And he admires you so.” “Bosh! You women can gad about as much as you please, but I’m in wrong when it comes to eating sponge cake and knuckling my knees under a dinky willow table.” Tbe women departed at three, for

there was to be tenuis until five o’clock. When Harrigan was reasonably sure that they were half the distance to the colonel’s villa, he put on his hat, whistled to the dachel, and together they took the path to the village. "We’d look fine drinking tea, wouldn’t we, old scout?” reaching down and tweaking the dog’s velvet ears. “They don’t understand, and It’s no use trying to make ’em. Nora gets as near as possible. Herr Rosen! Now, where shave I seen his. phiz before? I wish I had a real man to talk to. Abbott sulks half the time, and the Barone can’t get a joke unless it’s driven in with a mallet On your way, old scout, or I'll step on you. Let’s see if we can hoof It down to the village at a trot without taking the count” He had but two errands to execute. The first was accomplished expeditely in the little tobacconist's shop under the arcade, where the purchase of a box of Minghettl cigars promised later solace. The second errand took time and deliberation. He studied the long shelves of Tauchnltz. Having red corpuscles In superabundance, he naturally preferred them in his literature, In the same quantity. “Ever read this?" asked a pleasant voice from behind, Indicating "Rodney Stone” with the ferrule of a cane. Harrigan looked up. "Na What's It about?" “Best story of the London prize ring ever written. You’re Mr. Harrigan, aren’t you?” “Yes,” diffidently. “My name is Edward Courtlandt. If I am not mistaken, you were a great friend of my father’s.” “Are you Dick Courtlandt’s boy?” “I am.” "Well, say!" Harrigan held out his hand and was gratified to encounter a man’s grasp. “So you’re Edward Courtlandt? Now, what do you think of that! Why, your father was the best sportsman I ever met Square as they make ’em. Not a kink anywhere in his make-up. He used come to the bouts in his plug hat and dress suit; always had a seat by the ring. I could hear him tap with his cane when there happened to be a bit of pretty sparring. He was no slouch himself when it came to putting on the mitts. Many’s the time I’ve had a round or two with him in my old gymnasium. Well, well! It’s good to see a man again. I’ve seen your name in the papers, but I never knew you was Dick’s boy. You’ve got an old grizzly’s head in your dining room at home. Some day I’ll tell you how it got there, when you're not in a hurry. I went out to Montana for a scrap, and your dad went along. After the mill was over, we went hunting. Come up to the villa and meet thlj up to Gailey-Webster’s to tea; piffle water and sticky sponge cake. I want you to meet my wife and daughter." “I should be very pleased to meet them.” So this was Nora’s father? “Won’t you come along with me to tbe colonel’s?” with sudden inspiration. Here was an opportunity not to be thrust aside lightly. “Why, I just begged off. They wonX be expecting me now." “All the better. I’d rather have you introduce me to your family than to have the colonel. As a matter of fact, I told him I couldn’t get up. But I changed my mind. Come along.” “But the pup and the cigar box?" "Send them up." w Harrigan eyed his own spotless flannels and compared them with the other’s. What was good enough for the son of a millionaire was certainly good enough for him. Besides, It would be a bully good joke on Nora and Molly. “You’re on!" he cried. Here was a lark. He turned the dog and the purchases over to the proprietor, who promised that they should arrive instantly at the villa. ••■• • • • ♦ "Padre, my shoe pinches," said Nora with a pucker between her eyes. “My child," replied the padre, “never carry your vanity into a shoemaker's shop. The happiest man is he who walks in loose shoes." “If they are his own, and not inherited,” quickly. The padre laughed quietly. He was very fond of this new-found daughter of his. Her spontaneity, her blooming beauty, her careless observation of convention, her independence, had captivated him. (TO BE CONTINUED.)