People's Pilot, Volume 3, Number 12, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 September 1893 — WARING'S [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

WARING'S

By PERIL?

cap; Castes king;.

[Copyright, 1893, by J. B. Lippincott . Co., and published by special arrangement] IV.—Continued. “Hello, Waring!” he began. “Oh, it’s you, is it, captain? Isn’t Waring back? I saw the light, and came up to chin with him a moment. Beastly night, isn’t it?” “Waring isn’t back yet. I look for him by the eleven-thirty car,” answered the captain. “Why, that’s in. No Waring there, but a half dozen poor devils half drowned and more’n half drunk, one of your men among ’em. We had to put him into the guard-house to keep him from murdering Dawson, the head-quarters clerk. There’s been some kind of a row.” “Sorry to hear that. Who is the man?” “Kane. He said Dawson was lying about his officer, and he wouldn’t stand it” “Kane!” exclaimed Cram, rising, “why, he’s one of ouf best, I never heard of his being riotous before.” “He’s riotous enough to-night. He wanted to lick all six of our fellows, and if I hadn’t got there when I did they would probably have kicked him into a pulp. All were drunk; Kane, too, I should say; and as for Dawson, he was just limp.” “Would you mind going down and letting me talk with Kane? I never knew him to be troublesome before, though he sometimes drank a little. He was on pass this evening. “Well, it’s raining cats and dogs, captain, but come along. If you can stand it I can.” A few minutes later the sergeant of the guard threw open one of the wooden compartments in the guard-house, and there sat Kane, his face buried in his hands. “I ordered him locked in here by himself, because I feared our fellows would hammer him if he were turned in with them," explained Mr. Merton, and at sound of the voice the prisoner looked up and saw his commander, ■dripping with wet. Unsteadily he rose to his feet. “Captain,” he began, thickly, “I’d never have done it in the world, sir, but that blackguard was drunk, sir, and slandering my officer, and I gave him fair warning to quit or I’d hit him, but he kept on.” “Ye-es? And what did he say?” “He said—l wouldn’t believe it, sir—that Mr. Doyle was that drunk that him and some other fellers had lifted him out of the mud and put him to bed up there at—up there at the house, sir, back of Anatole’s place. I think the captain knows.” “Ah, you should have steered clear Of such company, Kane. Did this happen at Anatole’s saloon?” “Yes, sir, and them fellers was making so much noise that the dago turned them all out and shut up the shop at eleven o’clock, and that’s what made

them follow me home in the ear and abuse me all the way. I couldn’t stand it, sir.” “You would only have laughed at them if your better judgment hadn’t been ruined by liquor. Sorry for you, Kane, but you’ve been drinking just enough to be a nuisance, and must stay where you are for the night. They’ll be sorry for what they said in the morning. Did you lock up the others, Mr. Merton?” he asked, as they turned away. “All but Dawson, sir. I took him over to the hospital and put a sentry over him. That fellow looks to be verging on jimjams, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been talking as Kane says.” Merton might have added, “and it’s probably true,” but courtesy to his battery friend forbade. Cram did add mentally something to the same effect, but loyalty to his arm of the service kept him silent. At the flag-staff the two officers stopped. “ Merton, oblige me by saying nothing as to the alleged language about Doyle, will you?” “Certainly, captain. Good night.” Then, as the officer of the day’s lantern flickered away in one direstion, Cram turned in the other, and presently went climbing up the stairs to the gallery leading to the quarters of his senior first lieutenant. A dim light was shining through the shutters.

Cram knocked at the door; no answer. Opening it, he glanced in. The room was unoccupied. A cheap marine clock, ticking between the north windows and the wash-stand, indicated midnight, and the battery commander turned away in vexation of spirit. Lieut. Doyle had no authority to be absent from the post. It was dark and storming furiously when the bugles of the battery sound<£l the reveille, and by the light of the swinging lanterns the men marched away in their canvass stable rig, looking like a column of ghosts. Yet, despite the gale and the torrents of rain, Pierce was in no wise surprised to find Cram at his elbow when the horses were led out to water. “Groom indoors this morning, Mr. Pierce. Is Waring home?” “No, sir; Ananias told me when he brought me up my coffee.” “Hold the morning report, then, until I come to the office. I fear we have both first lieutenants to report absent to-day. You and I may have to go to town; so get your breakfast early. We will ride. I doubt if even an ambulance could get through. Tell me, Pierce, have you spoken to Waring about —about that matter we were discussing? Has he ever given you any idea that he had received warning of any kind from old Lascelles—or any of his friends?” “No, sir. I’ve had no chance to speak, to be sure, and, so far as I could observe, he and Mr. Lascelles seemed on very excellent terms only a few days ago.” “Well, I wish I had spoken myself,” said Cram, and turned away. That morning, with two first lieutenants absent without leave, the report of Light Battery “X” went into the adjutant’s office just as its commander and his junior subaltern went out and silently mounted the dripping horses standing in front. The two orderlies, with their heads poked through the slit of their ponehos, briskly seated themselves in saddle, and then the colonel hurried forth just in time to hail: “Oh, Cram! one minute.” And Cram reined about and rode to the side of the post commander, who stood under the shelter of the broad gallery. “1 wouldn’t say anything about this to anyone at headquarters except Reynolds. There’s no one else on the staff to whom Waring would apply, is there?” “No one, sir. Reynolds is the only man I can think of.” “Will you send an orderly back with word as soon as you know?” “Yes, sir, the moment I hear. And-d —shall I send you word from—there” —and Cram nodded northward, and then, in a lower tone, “as to Doyle?” “Oh, damn Doyle! I don’t care if he never—” But here the commander of the post regained control of himself, and with parting wave of the hand turned back to his office. Riding single file up the levei,’ for the city road was one long pool, with the swollen river on their left, and the slanting torrents of rain obscuring all objects on the other hand, the party made its way for several squares without exchanging a word. Presently the leading file came opposite the high wall of the Lascelles place. The green latticed gate stood open—an unusual thing— and both officers bent low over their pommels and gazed along the dark, rain-swept alley to the pillared portico dimly seen beyond. Not a soul was in sight. The wat<*r was already on a level with the banquette, and would soon be running across and into the gate. A vagabond dog skulking about the place gave vent to a mourn-

ful howl. A sudden thought struck the captain. He led the way down the slope and forded across to the north side, the others following. “Joyce,” said he to his orderly, “dismount and go in there and ring at the door. Ask if Mr. Lascelles is home. If not, ask if madame has any message she would like to send to town, or if we can be of any service." The soldier was gone but a moment, and came hurrying back, a negro boy, holding a long fold of matting over his head to shed the rain, chasing at his heels. It was Alphonse. “M’sieu’ not yet of return,” said he, in labored translation of his negro French, “and madame remain chez Mme. d’Hervilly. lam alone wiz my mudder, and she has fear." “Oh, it’s all right, I fancy,” said Cram, reassuringly. “They were caught by the storm, and wisely stayed uptown. I saw your gate open, so we stopped to inquire. We’ll ride over to Mme. d’Hervilly’s and ask for them. How came your gate open?” “Mo connais pas; I dunno, sare. It was lock’ last night.” “Why, that’s odd,” said Cram. “Better bolt it now, or all the cattle along the levee will be in there. You can’t lock out the water, though. Who had the key besides Mr. Lascelles or. madame?”

“Nobody, sare; but there is muddy foots all over the piazza.” “The devil! I’ll have'to look in for a moment.” A nod to Pierce brought him too from the saddle, and the Officers handed their reins to the orderlies. Then together they entered the gate and strode up the white shell walk, looking curiously about them through the dripping shrubbery. Again that dismal howl was raised, and Pierce, stopping with impatient exclamation, tore half a brick from the yielding border of the walk and sent it hurtling through the trees. With his tail between his legs, the brute darted from behind a sheltering bush, scurried away around the corner of the house, glancing fearfully back, then, halting at safe distance, squatted on his haunches and lifted up his mournful voice again. “ Whose dog is that?” demanded Cram. “ M’sieu’ Philippe’s; he not now here. He is de brudder to monsieur. ” At the steps the captain bent and closely examined them and the floor of the low veranda to which they led. Both were disfigured by muddy footprints. Pierce would have gone still farther in the investigation, but his senior held up a warning hand. “ Two men have been here,” he muttered. “ They have tried the door and tried the blinds. Where did you sleep last night, boy?” and with the words he turned suddenly on the negro. “ Did you hear no sound?” “No, sare. I sleep in my bed, —’way back. No, I hear noting,—noting.” And now the negro’s face was twitching, his eyes staring. Something in the soldier’s stern voice told him that there was tragedy in the air. “If this door is locked, go around and open it from within,” said Cram, briefly. Then, as Alphonse disappeared around the north side, he stepped back to the shell walk and followed one of its branches around the other. An instant later Pierce heard him call. Hastening in his wake, the youngster came upon his captain standing under a window, one of whose blinds was hanging partly open, water standing in pools all around him. “ Look here," was all he said, and pointed upward. The sill was above the level of their heads, but both could see that the sash was raised. All was darkness within. “ Come with me,” was Cram’s next, order, and the lieutenant followed. Alphonse was unlocking the front door, and now threw it open. Cram strode into the wide hall-way straight to a door of the east side. It was locked. “Open this, Alphonse,” he said. “I have not the key. It is ever with M’sieu’ Lascelles. It is his library.” Cram stepped back, gave one vigorous kick with a heavy riding-boot, and the frail door flew open with a crash. For a moment the darkness was such that no object could be distinguished within. The negro servant hung back, trembling from some indefinable dread. The captain, his hand on the door-knob, stepped quickly into the gloomy apartment, Pierce close at his heels. A broad, flat-topped desk stood in the center of the room. Some shelves and books were dimly visible against the walk Some of the drawers of the desk were open, and there was a litter of papers on the desk, and others were strewn in the big rattan chair, some on the floor. Two studentlamps could be dimly distinguished, one on the big desk, another on a little reading-table placed not far from the south window, whose blinds, half open, admitted almost the only light

that entered the room. With its head near this reading-table and faintly visible, a bamboo lounge stretched its length towards the southward windows, where all was darkness, and something vague and indistinguishable lay extended upon the lounge. Cram marched half-way across the floor, then stopped short, glanced down, stepped quickly to one side, shifting his heavily-booted foot as though to avoid some such muddy pool as those encountered without. “Take care,” he whispered, and motioned warningly to Pierce. “Come here and open these shutters, Alphonse,” were the next words. But once again that prolonged, dismal, mournful howl was heard under the south window, and the negro, seized with uncontrollable panic, turned back and clung trembling to the opposite wall. “Send one of the men for the post surgeon at once, then come back here,” said the captain, and Pierce hastened to the gate. As he returned, the west shutters were being thrown open. There was light when he reentered the room, and this was what he saw: On the China matting, running from underneath the sofa, fed by heavy drops from above, a dark wet stain. On the lounge, stretched at full length, a stiffening human shape, a yellow white, parchment-like face above the black clothing, a bluish, half-opened mouth whose yellow teeth showed savagely, a fallen chin and jaw, covered with the gray stubble of unshaved beard, and two staring, sightless, ghastly eyes, fixed and upturned as though in agonized appeal. Stonedead murdered, doubtless—all that was left of the little Frenchman, Lascelles. [to be continued.]

“DAT CROSS-HANDLED DAGGER.”