Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 5, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 May 1908 — The KING of DIAMONDS. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The KING of DIAMONDS.

By Louis Tracy,

Author of "Wings of the Morning,’* "Ths Pillar of Light,** Etc. < .... COPYRIGHT. 1904, By EDWARD J. CLODB.

SYNOPSIS TO PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Chapter I—At Johnson's Mews, a slum In Ixindon, Philip Anson, a well reared !>_>>• cf about fifteen, loses his mother, the only illative, so far us he knows, that hi- hits in the world. He finds a package of letters, many of them from a Sir Philip Morland, refusing aid th Mrs. Anson. Mrs. Anson was a Miss Morland and was thought by her relatives to have married beneath lie." station. ll—During n great storm Philip saves a little girl, addressed as Elf, from being crushed by a carriage. In his squalid apartments Philip, sick of the outlook and discouraged, Is about to hang himself when a huge metdor falls in the courtyard. Philip, sympathetic and imaginative, regards it as a message from his mother in heaven. Ill —With some fragments of the meteor Philip goes to a jeweler. He is told that they are diamonds and is referred to Isaacstein & Co., London's largest dealers In diamonds. IV—lsaacstein is astounded by the gems Philip shows him and has the boy arrested. V—lsaacstein explains in court that the gems are doubtless of recent meteorio origin. Vl—The wife of Sir Philip Morland reads in the papers about Philip and his marvelous diamonds and sends to Johnson's Mews to inquire about him. She learns nothing. Philip Is dismissed from custody. Vll—Philip agrees to supply Isaacstein with a quarter of ■a million pounds sterling worth of diamonds each year for many years. VIII and IX—At Johnson's Mews, while Philip is preparing to remove the rest of his diamonds, he detects an Intruder, who, with the assistance of a policeman, is captured. He is a noted criminal named Jocky Mason. Philip removes his diamonds forever from Jonnson’s Mews. X, XI and Xll—lsaacstein sells, thirty of Philip's diamonds for £52,000. XIII— Ten years later, when Jocky Mason gets -out of prison, he sees the Mary Anson Home For Destitute Boys, which was founded by Philip. XlV—Philip rescues a girl from Insult at the hands of two men. one of whom is Victor Grenier, an ex-fellow convict of Jocky Mason.

Philip had sent his hansom home. Shortly before 11 he quitted the club, Intending to walk to Park lane by a circuitous route long enough to consume a lilg cigar. He chanced to pass the hall in which the concert was to take place. A few people were hurrying from the stage door. Evidently a rehearsal had just taken place. A short man with a huge cluster of flowing locks that offered abundant proof of his musical ran out with a violin case in his band. He was nl»out to enter a hansom waiting near the curb, but the driver Mid: “Engaged, sir.” The man did not seem to understand, ■o the cabby barred his way with the whip and shook his head. Then the stranger rushed to a neighboring cab rank—evidently an excitable gentleman, with the high strung temi>erament of art. A lady quitted the hall a few seconds later. “Are you engaged?” Philip heard her ask the cabman. “No. miss.” "Take me to No. 44 Maida Crescent, Regent’s park,” she said. After arranging her skirts daintily she entered the vehicle.

“That is odd,” thought Philip, who had witnessed both incidents in the course of a six yards’ walk. lie glanced at the cabman and fancied the man gave a peculiar look of Intelligence toward a couple of fashionably dressed loungers who stood in the shadow of the dosed public entrance. The two men, without exchanging a word to Philip’s hearing, went to a brougham standing at some little distance. They entered. The coachman, who received no instructions, drove off In the same direction as the hansom, and as if to make sure he was being followed the cab driver turned to look behind him. Once in Naples Philip saw a man stealthily following a woman dowm an unligbted alley. Without a moment’s hesitation he went after the pair and was Just in time to prevent the w’ould be assassin from plunging an uplifted stiletto into tlie woman’s back. The recollection of that little drama flashed Into his mind now. There was a suggestion of the Neapolitan bravo’s air in the manner In which these men stalked a girl who was quite unaware of t their movements. He asked himself why a cabman ahould refuse one fare and pick up another in the same spot. The affair was certainly odd. He would see further Into It before he dismissed it from his thoughts. The distance to Maida Crescent was not great. \ ‘ ,■ ' While thinking he was acting. He Iprang Into the nearest hansom. “A brougham is following a hansom tip Langham place,” he said to the driver. “Keep behind them. If they separate, follow the brougham. When It stops, pull up at the best place to avoid notice.”

The man nodded. Nothing surprises a London cabman. Soon the three vehicles were spinning along the Outer Circle. It was not a very dark night, the sky being cloudless and starlit Away In front at a point where the two lines of lamps curved sharply to the right and vanished amid the trees a row of little red lights showed that the road was up. The leading hansom drove steadily on. There was nothing remarkable in this. When the driver reached the obstruction, he would turn out of the park by the nearer gate; that was all. But be did nothing of the kind. There was a sudden crash of wood, a woman's scream, and the horse was struggling wildly amid a pile of loose wooden blocks, while one wheel of the cab dropped heavily into a shallow trench. Simultaneously the brougham pulled up, and Its two occupants rushed to the scene of the accident

T*hillp’s driver of course obeyed instructions, but be shouted to his fare as he jumped Into the road; “That feller’s either drunk or ’• did it a-puppuss.” Philip was of the same opinion. He reached the overthrown barricade almost as soon as the two hurrying men in front, both of whom were in evening dress. One of them held the horse's head and steadied him. The other was just in time to help the young lady to leave her dangerous conveyance. “I hope you have received no Injury, madam,” he said politely. “Oh, not at all. I was frightened for an instant How could it have happened? I saw the lamps quite plainly. The man seemed to pull bls horse deliberately into the barrier.” The voice was singularly sweet and well modulated. A neighboring arc lamp illuminated the girl’s face, with Its white, unpitylng radiance. It revealed features beautifully modeled and large, startled eyes that looked wonderlngly from the man who came so promptly to her rescue to the driver who had caused the mishap. Philip, behind the hansom, was unseen. He remained a critical observer. “I fear he is intoxicated,” was the reply. “Here, you! How came you to make such a blunder?”

“Blind as an owl,” came the gurgling answer. “I saw some red spots dancin’ abaht, but I thort it must be that larst gill o’ beer.” Nevertheless the cabman extricated his horse and vehicle from their predicament with singular ease for a half drunken man. “Goin’ on, miss?’ he grinned. “There’s nothin’ extry for the steeplechTse.” “No, no!” cried the lady. “I will walk. I will pay you now.’’ “Take my advice and pay him not a cent,” protested the man by her side. “Leave him to me. My friend here will take his number. If you will accept a seat in my brougham”— The cabman began to swear and threaten them all with personal violence. The lady, clearly unwilling to avail herself of the accommodating offer made to her, tried to edge away. The driver of the hansom whipped his horse on to the pavement. By this time he had turned his back to the roadmenders’ barrier. The girl, angered and alarmed, shrank toward the gentleman, who seemed to give her some measure of protection from the infuriated cause of all the trouble. “Do step into my brougham,” he said civilly. “Victor, just grab the gee-gee’s head again, and keep that idiot quiet until we get away. Now, madam, take my advice. You will be quite safe in-

stantly.” Even yet she hesitated. There was perchance u timbre In the quiet, cultured tone of the speaker that did not ring truly. The note of a bell cannot be perfect if there is a flaw in the metal, and the human voice often betrays a warped nature when to all outward seeming there is a fair exterior. The man who addressed her was youthful, not much older than herself. He was evidently a gentleman, with the polish and easy repose of society. His words, his attitude, were In the best of taste. Yet— A loud altercation broke out between the cabman and “Victor.” The latter did not appear to be so ready to lay hands on the reins again, and the whip fell viciously on the horse’s flank, causing him to plunge forward in dangerous proximity to the couple on the sidewalk. He came close, but not too close. Philip was now quite certain that be was witnessing the dexterous display of a skilled driver. “Really, I am at a loss for words to persuade you that your only course Is to use my carriage; otherwise there will be a confounded row.” The stranger’s voice was a trifle petulant; she was such an unreasonable young lady. She turned to him irresolutely—to And Philip at her side, tL. listing himself in front of her would be rescuer.

“You have been the victim of a plot, madam,” he said. “Your driver is not drunk. He caused the accident purposely. These two scoundrels are in league with him. If”— “What the devil”— cried the other fiercely, but Philip swung him bodily against the iron railings. “If you care to take my cab alone it is at your service. I will look after these cads.” His quick eyes caught a signal from Victor to the cabman. He was sorry for the horse, but this comedy must be stopped. He instantly caught the bridle and backed the cab violently toward the excavation. The cabman lashed at him in vain and swore, too, with remarkable fluency for one so drunk. Both wheels crunched on top of the stout barrier and became locked there. Then Anson ran back toward the girl, whose arm was held by the owner of the brougham. “Take your hands off that lady or I will hurt you,” said Philip. And there was that In his emphatic order which brooked no delay. . ■' / ... The stranger dropped bls restraining band, but shouted furiously:

“By what right do you interfere? 1 am only offering the lady some assistance.” Philip ignored him. “What do yon say, madam?” he inquired, somewhat sternly, for she seemed loath to trust any of them. “Will' you occupy my cab? It is there. Rest assured that neither of these men shall follow you.” She stood her ground, camo nearer to him. “‘T believe you,** she murmured. “I thank you from my heart. It is inexplicable that such wretches can exist

as these two seeming gentlemen, who stooped to such artifice against a helpless woman.” “Most fortunately I saw you leaving the Regent’s hall,” he replied. “This cab was waiting for you and you only. The man refused at least one fare in my presence. The others followed In a brougham. Do you know them?” “No. I have never, to my knowledge, seen either of them before in my life. How came you”— “I happened to hear your address. I will write to you and explain. Go now,” he quickly interrupted, for Victor and his friend were approaching them after a hasty conference. “Leave you to deal with these assassins alone! Not I! I can defend myself. I can help you. I will scream for assistance. There are too many of them for you to resist them singlehanded.” Philip vowed afterward that fire flashed in her eyes. There was a splendid passion in the gesture with which she pointed to the enraged hansom driver, who had climbed from bls perch and was running to join his employers. This was a new experience for Philip, and the blood leaped in his veins at the girl’s courageous words, but he laughed in his pleasant, musical way. “Men who would attack a defenseless woman,” he said, “are poor creatures where a man’s heart is needed. Now, just watch me and don’t be alarmed.” He strode to meet the advancing trio. They halted. “I give you a last warning,” he cried. “Drive off in your carriage. And you” —to the cabman—“go back and help your horse. You must go now, this instant, or take the consequences.” There was the silence of indecision. This strong faced man with the figure of an athlete meant what he said. Victor caught his friend’s arm. “Crime away,” he whispered. “She does not know you. You have failed this time.” Without another word the pair crossed the road to their waiting brougham. The cabman, who became remarkably sober, began to whine: “It’s on’y a lark, guv’nor. The lydy would ha’ took no ’arm. I didn't mean”—

Philip was strongly tempted to kick him, but refrained. He grasped the man’s shoulder and lifted his badge to the light "I will spare you for the lady’a sake,” he said grimly, “but I want your number. In case you try anymore ■uch tricks.” “My Gawd, it’s Mr. Anson!” For the first time the driver saw Philip’s face clearly. “Ah, yon know me, then? Who were those blackguards who employed you?” “S’elp me. sir. I on'y know one of ’em. ’E’s a Mr. Victor Grenier. I offen pick ’im up at the Gardenia. ’E said ’ls pal was sweet on the young lydy an’ wanted a put up Job ter ’elp ’er. That’s all, guv’nor, on me life." “You ought to be ashamed of your•elf,” was Philip’s only comment. He rejoined the girl, who was watching the retreating brougham. “Now,” he cried pleasantly, “you can go home.” ‘ “Please drive me there. I will not deprive you of your cab.” So they drove away together, and the driver of the hansom, striving to free his vehicle from the broken treeties, paused to scratch his head. ”’E fairly bested the crowd,” he growled, “an’ got the girl as well. My eye, but she’s a beauty I” (To be continued.)

“By what right do you interfere?"