Jasper County Democrat, Volume 3, Number 24, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 September 1900 — 'Twixt Life and Death [ARTICLE]

'Twixt Life and Death

BY PRANK BARRETT

CHAPTER Xlll.— (Continued.) “Everything was for me, and every farthing shall be paid when the man who insured my life pays me what he promised to pay.” ' “He will never do that. He is plotting to get Mrs. Redmond sent to prison, and put you into the hands of the man who will destroy you.” “Then he has done the wrong, not my friend. Oh, you must see that she is not in fault.” “I may have done her an injustice." “You have done her an injustice," Nes•a said, fiercely, “and you have wronged me, too. Oh, how; ill you must think of me—what an ungrateful coward I must seem—to believe that I would run away to be out of danger, and leave her to face alone the trouble she had brought upon herself for my sake! But I am not a coward; let them do their worst.” Her nostrils dilated. She set her teeth and knitted her brows as she quickly gathered up the rein that had slipped from her hand. “What are you going to do?” Eric cried, in entreaty, agulu putting his hand upon the rein. “I am going to my friend,” she answered, resolutely. “Please take your hand from the rein.” “I can try, I can tell the truth, and no one can convict my friend when the truth la known. I must call for help if you detain me.” “One moment, F implore you. You are throwing your life away. It is not my opinion, but the assurance of the police themselves. You cannot save your friend; but I can. And I will, though you do not know how much it costs me.” She hud reason to remember those words later on, with aching regret; at the moment they only inspired hope. Again ■he bent down to listen to his scarcely audible voice. He was speaking rather to himself than to her, as he hurriedly murmured: “Surely it can be done. We shall find means. It is your life that has to be saved. That is what I have to think of.” “You say you will save her?” said NesM. “Yes, if you willsave yourself.” “What am I to do?” “Go to some place of safety, and stay there until 1 bring your friend to you.” “I will go to your father.” “No,” said Eric, shaking his head in sadness; “you must not go to him.” Nessa’s mind was too much occupied with the thought of her friend's escape to ■ee the significance of this prohibition. “I could go to the riding school in Finsbury,” she suggested, quickly. “Yes, that is well. That gentleman will take care of you. Wait patiently. 1 will ■ave your friend.” “Oh, if you do, I will never forget you.” “That is something,” said Eric to himself as he turned away. “She will never forget me.”

CHAPTER XIV. Nessa and the riding master passed him rapidly as Eric reached the hansom. He followed her with his eyes, his heart aching with regret as he remembered the I eager joy of watching for her coming day after day, and realizing that henceforth he was never more to look for that dear face. By an effort of resolution he turned away, that he might concentrate all his thought on the thing be had undertaken to do for her. After a minute’s reflection he said to the cabman, putting a sovereign into his hand: “First, drive back to the house where you set me down.’ "The Pines, sir?" "Yes; but go back by a different way, ao that your horse’s head is toward Charing Cross. ” “I understand, sir." “I shall go into the house. But someone else will come out and get into the cab. You will be ready to start at any moment; you will not wait for anything; but the instant that person is in the cab you win go.” "Like a shot." “That is so. Two men are in front of the bouse.” “I see ’em, sir. One passed the time o’ day to me; but I never enter into no conversation with anyone when I’ve got a gentleman fare.” “Good! Thase men may try to stop you: but you must not let them." “I’ll give ’em a doing if they try.” “When they are quite out of sight, you will open the trap, and take your directions from the person inside. When you have tet down that person, you will take thia card to the Charing Cross Hotel. If T am not there, my father will give you payment." • He gave the card on which he had written a few words to his father while concluding his instructions, and sprang into the hansom. The driver started off at a speed that showed his determination to earn his pay. The laborers were still waiting at the corner of the street. There were two gates to the drive that<formed a semicircle before the house; the first stood open. Eric entered by the next, which he flung back in passing. The cab drew up before that one, as Ixdng the furthest removed from the corner of the street. Eric sent his card to Mrs. Merrivale, with the words, "on a matter of importance," written under his name. He was shown into a sitting room. Mrs. Merrivale came down in a couple of minutes, with a look of surprise on her face, which was not lessened when she recognized her visitor. • In a few words Eric laid the whole case before her, dwelling only on Nessa’s generous refusal to save herself while her friend was in danger. That seemed to Interest Mrs. Merrivale far less than the question of her own escape. “You say those wretches are waiting outside to take me; how am I to get sway?" she asked, shaking with fear. "Will you follow my directions?** “OertMnly." “You have 5 carriage T'

“Yes.” “Can you depend on the driver?” --“If it is to his iutere*L” “I it to his interest. Have you any female servant you can trust to help us?” “You can trust anyone if you make it worth her while to help you. They’ll do anything for money.” “Let her dress at once in your clothes—the beat you have—the things you would wear if yon were going to get things at shops. Let her wear a thick veil that cannot be seen through, and fasten it so that it cannot be raised easily.” “I*ll sew it.” “Bo not forget to let her wear gloves.” “She shall keep her hands In my muff if she can't get my gloves on.” “At the same time you will dress yourself for going out as simply as possible, not to attract attention. Conceal your hair if you can.” “Yes, yes—l can do that." "Let another servant pack a valise with a complete change of clothes for Miss Grahame. Hat, gloves—do not forget anything. Iler safety ” “All right; all right,” interrupted Mrs. Merrivale, impatiently. “And when we’re dressed as you suggest, what then?” “Then tell your man to be at the door with the carriage—the horse’s head to the west, so that the carriage will go out by the gate nearest the corner of the street.” “Yes—what then?" “I shall get into the carriage with your servant. If they are detectives at the corner of the street, they will stop the carriage before it has gone a dozen yards. The moment you see them occupied in arresting your servant, you will slip out by the other gate and jump into the cab I have left there. The driver has orders to start off at once in the other direction, and, as soon as he finds he is out of danger, he will ask you where he is to drive to. You will tell him to take you to Radford’s, in Finsbury, where your friend is waiting in dreadful suspense for you.” “Not I,” said Mrs. Merrivale, emphatically. “I’m not going to Radford’s. F shall make for Victoria, and take the first Crain that leaves there. I’ll wire Nessa where she can find me.” Eric concealed his disgust under a stiff inclination of the head. Perhaps he did not wholly dislike a decision which gave him an opportunity of befriending Nessa a little further. The carriage drove up to the door as Mrs. Merrivale and the bouseifiaid were coming downstairs—the latter thickly veiled and wearing a sealskin mantle and muff, which her mistress had taken the precaution to pud to her own proportions. She was skilled in this sort of work, and had even added to the disguise a knot of false hair, which shone out below the black veil on the back of the girl's head. She stood back as Eric opened the door. A round hat and a pair of eyes were visible over the wall between the two gates. Eric gave his arm to the housemaid and led her down, to the carriage. Raising his hat he opened the door, and when the girl was seated, he put the portmanteau at the coachman’s feet, saying, in a low voice:

“Radford’s riding school, in Finsbury. You shall have a pound if you get there in half an hour.” He took his seat beside the housemaid. “My girl,” said he, “I will give you five pounds if you prevent anyone seeing your face for five minutes. A man will try to see your face directly; do not let him succeed.” Anxious to secure his sovereign, the coachman swept down the drive and out into the road in fine style. The laborers made a dart at the horse’s head, but the carriage had gone twenty yards before it was brought to a stand. One of the men stepped up and seated himself beside the driver; the other came to the side of the carriage. "We don’t want to make it unpleasant, sir,” said he, “but this lady's got to go to the police station with us. You can get out if you like, and 1 will take your place." "You will do nothing of the kind. I refuse to let you take this lady anywhere until you show me your authority.” “I can pretty soon do that. I’ve got the warrant in my pocket, and I know Mrs. Merrivale there better than she knows me.” He glanced at the cab, and then plucked at the housemaid’s veil; but she was prepared for this, and met the attack so well that two valuable minutes were lost before her veil was removed, and then only with her bonnet and the knot of false hair. "I thought as much,” snid his mate, jumping down from the box. “The right un’s in that cab, and we're done if we can't catch it up." With that they bolted off after the rapidly vanishing hansom; while the driver of the victoria, still thinking of the pound to be won, rattled off in the opposite direction. In Moorgste street Eric stopped the carriage, paid the servants, and taking the portmanteau, told the driver to return to St. John’s Wood. In the waiting room of the riding school he found Nessa. “Where is my friend?” she asked, anxiously, seeing him alone. “She has escaped; but she thought it better not to come here,” Eric replied, with a delicate consideration for the girl’s feelings toward Mrs. Redmond which led him to conceal the woman’s selfish motive. “She will telegraph to you here when she has found a secure place where you may join her." “She feared they might follow her here and find me. w For if anyone is guilty it must be I, who incurred all those dreadful debts, you know.” She spoke in a tone of earnest persuasion, wishing to disabuse this new friend’s mind of the prejudice which he and his family obviously entertained against Mrs. Redmond. “I hope that no one is more guilty than you,” Eric replied fervently. “Yes; I wish that with all mjr heart, for your

sake. There is a dress In this valise fog you; you may have to make a journey, and It would be impossible in that riding habit.” “Oh, how thoughtful of her!” exclaimed Nessa; “anyone but a true friend would have been concerned only about her own safety at such a time.” “A true friend cannot ever forget,” he said, with a touch of sadness, not attempting to disabuse her mind and show that it was he, and not Mrs. Redmond, who had thought of the details. Nessa called an attendant to take the portmanteau into the ladies' dressing room, and then, turning to Eric, she said: “I want to thank you for all you have done, but I can find no words that are half nice enough now. Perhaps I may while I am dressing,” she added, archly; "will you wait here till I come back?” “I shall not go away until I must go.” When she was gone from the roott Eric sat with his face buried in his hands, seeing her face as one sees with closed eyes something of light that has fixed itself upon the retina. A clerk came into the room and -apologized. “I beg your pardon, sir—l thought Miss Grahame was here,” he said. He had an open paper in his hand. Eric rose. “You have a telegram for Miss Grahame?” he said. “No; the wire is addressed to us, but—he hesitated a moment—"perhaps you can tell us something about it.” He gave the telegram -to Eric to read. “A gentleman will come to you with the victoria and cob. Do not on any account let the carriage go. F will wire further instructions.” The office from which the telegram came was Victoria; there was not a word about Nessa. Eric’s heart bounded with a secret hope. “The hostler says he saw you get out of the victoria at the corner of the street,” said the clerk. “Yes; it has gone back to St. John’s Wood.” The clerk took back the telegram with a shrug and thanked Eric. “There is no telegram for Miss Grahame?” Eric asked. “None, sir. If any should come I will bring it in at once.” • Nessa came down, charming in her furs. The admiration in Eric’s face told her that, if her glass had failed to do so. “No message has come for me yet?” she said, interrogatively. “None.” “It is stupid to expect one until she has an address to send me. I may have to wait three or four hours.” She paused, and then added, her pretty eyes twinkling, “I am afraid I cannot thank you as I should yet a while.” “Whtn you find words to thank me I may find worts to bid you farewell—not before." That is just what she wanted him to say, and he said it as nicely as she could wish. “We will leave both till the last moment possible. I shall be glad to put it off for quite a long while, for there are many questions that I wish to ask you, and —and F usually have lunch about this time.” Eric carried her off to a hotel and they ate together—Nessa showing a very pretty taste in her selection of dishes, and they laughed and were happy, though each had black care close at hand. Nessa wished to make herself agreeable, as the only way in which she could express her gratitude, while Eric abandoned himself to the delight of the moment, and put away all gloomy thoughts for the gloomy hour that must come with a practical philosophy only possible to the young. Radford’s clerk, in recommending the hotel at which they dined, had promised that if any telegram for Nessa came in during their absence, he would send it on by a messenger at once. Nearly two hours had passed since they left the riding school, and no messenger had come. Every minute added to the probability that Nessa would be compelled to accept his father’s offer. (To be continued.)