Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 38, Number 85, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 July 1906 — One Man's Evil [ARTICLE]

One Man's Evil

BY EFFIE ROWLAND

—u— _^. r —-- '. y '* PH-ARTRte .will. (Cnwtimw^ *-\W aiv kni; t.igi'tlicr," said “by a Invo that makes us equal- ■« '°vv for one who need* such lave. 1 believe Ben - Coop has worked for his bread ever *iuee he was a child. I finow that ho was a minor i© 'ho .coal pits elqsr to which was my homo; but 1 call my self honored and pleased to hav6 such a man for my friend." —a Sylvia drew Im.k as they reached the. door, frnd-Aittettta turned and stretched out her Jiand. ~7” “(iooddiy,’’~ske...said. 1 should like to meet you again some day." , She saw that for some reason of her own Sylvia preferred not to walk with her to the street : so. with-her rare tact . iAntonia parsed on by liersejf, and in a fit tie while had turned in the direction of Lady Charlotte's house. A few 'nirniitesTnfor Sy Ivia "W'.aiked to find a hansom.' Yielding to a longing that was not curiosity, she told the man nr keep Antonia in -sight. She wished to know where this girl was to be found, for ♦here stole upon her a strange kind of presentiment that Ant.ouia and she wouldlie broughtl ogether again before a. very loug♦line. “' Late' fliaT night Ben Coop rang the' ML at l.nly Chirrlptcg's htmse. and asked If he could see Antonia. The girl half mpeeled him. and lo r heart beat almost ■lO stiffoeation jg she ran dowft the stairs ♦o greet him. ; ,r .? One glance at his face was enough lo Jail her that his journey had been fruitless, As she saw Ben before her. lmggardr r tired and grave. Antonia felt; the ♦•last gleam of hope die out of her. heart. “No, lass, there's no sign of him, and the grand gentleman who owns Mill Cross Court was not there neither. 1. went and" asked for him ; he had atone to London. <hpy told hue, and they did not know when he would be back North again. The house looked desolate. It seemed as it it mourned for the old master. No one had been nigh the place, so 1 was told, save for some little old woman who. it seemed had traveled from London with some important papers for Sir Gerald. This I learned Quite casually, and 1 took it all in. Miss Antonia, because you see, when a man's got such a doubt as I have, anything and everything may l>c of use to him, and it struck me strange like,” said Ben, (that an old woman should have traveled from London to carry papers to Fir Gerald Tenby. 1 1 got into conversation with the servant who told me about this, and witlftmt seeming curious. I tried to get out something more about this, bit! all I eon Id find was that this woman seemed iKior, and was in « mighty hurry to get bark to London again., I am afraid there’s not much la; ♦hat'that will totln uaf? “Ben,” Antonia said, “you have boon working very hard : now it is my turn. 1 want, you to be prepared for strangi things. If you see me walking with Ger •Id Tenby, smiling with him. seeming to be his friend, you must bear wish it, no matter how much it may hurt." “Don’t think ! am blaming ytm. miss : you see clearer than 1 do. and perhaps you are right. I’ll siand by anyhow, and wait till you call to me for my help.”

As Ben went Antonin milled him back, took both his hands and pressed them to her heart, and then bent and kissed them. a “God bless you 1" she said, and she watched him go through a blinding mist •f rears. Though sleep had not come to him •are in snatches through all these four long, terrible days. Ben felt it impossible to go bark and seek his bed. He walked restlessly through the crowded street*. At one theater the crowd seemed greater than anywhere else. Carriages were standing in line, and it was evident that the audience was fashionable in the extreme. Ben turned aside and stood awhile watching the people disperse. He asked • poliejeman who was near by what theater it was. .and the man gave him the same, with a faint smile at the question. —“Surely you don't Tfiean , to say you don’t know the King's Theater, where Sylvia Castclla acts?” “I'm a stranger." Ren answered simply. “I’ve never been in London before." Several hansoms were waiting in 'the ■arrow street, and close to where he stood was a dainty victoria, with a pair of beautiful horses. Ben felt a touch of admiration for these animals, and he smoothed their satin skins with his big. strong band. While he was standing there some man came out through the doorway of the theater and approached the carriage. “Miss-Castella desires that you will go around to front entrance," this man ■aid in a low voice to the coachman; “she win be there in about five minutes.” Just as the coachman was trying to turn the horses—not a very eAsy task in aueh a narrow passage —a gentleman approached the carriage. “Where are you going?” be asked, almoat sharply, and there was an air of authority in hia voice. The coachman bent forward a little. “Mias Caatelia has sent word to say aha ia coming out through the front entrance, sir; I suppose she wishes to avoid the crowd here.” George Stanton muttered something under his breath. • “Go on," he said, and he himself pauaad and watched the carriage as it rolled down the afreet. He waa a yard or so away from Ben. and hia presence there was at once remarked. Two young fellows of a genus hitherto 1 unknown to Ben’s simple manhood were smoking and chatting together, evidently waking for some of the theatrical element to join them. 2 “So* that chap,” mid one to the other, Indicating Stanton ; “that's the Castella’s latest admirer. Ha just haunts her. You know the fallow I mean —Stanton, be'a •sited, or something like that. Secretary

be goes, following her carriage. Good looking fellow, iffh’t-.he?" ' Ben sto«>d a moment or two listening to a few more words, but "the conversation had changed, and Qj§ name of Tenby was' not mentioned again-. Up had heard enough, however, to make his heart beat wildly. . , Acting on an impulse of tho moment, Itc ..turned ami .followed. George Stanton. lie took - careful scrutiny of the man in front of him. and once, as Stanton paused tinder., the light of a lamp. Ben gated eagerly at his face, as though hoping to gather some clew from this. Ise[j watched Stanton go forward and stand a little in the background. There was an expression on the man’s face which lie di-d not quite understand; it had something of a d 0.;., rate look upon it. Suddenly the swing doors were held open, and a woman passed out into the street. She moved rapidly toward Iter carriage, but before she could enter it Stanton hnd touched her on the shoulder, and as she turned tb look haughtily at him her face was fully disclosed to Ben. lie bout, forward with a strange thrill at his heart to look at that face, and then die drew "bHriratlTl"stood; feeling that-klnd of faintness that comes when one has had a great shock.

('ll ALTER XIX. Gerald Tefiby was sitting iti his chambers at breakfast the next, morning when a note was brought to him. lie was waited upon hy his new servant, the man who -had replaced Stephens. . Sometimes there, came across Gerald's mind a kind ot"dread when he "mneiulieretl for what a light reason he had dismissed (he of her—many: and h e w oitflerrd vaguely where Stephens was. and what he was doing; but this morning, as he gazed at the writing on the not** that was brought to him. he lost remembrance of all that troubled him. and let loose the flood of delight that only the thought of Antoniacould bring: It needed only the sound of Stanton’s voice speaking in the passage to recall him from dreams to hideous reality. The two moll met without a word, and Station, sat down to the table and In gan to eat as though lie were the mast'»i» Suddenly be leaned across the table and looked into Gerald Tenby's eyes. "I am here now." he said roughly, “to tell you that the journey we discussed yesterday must he taken by you. I find i; impossible to get away from town. I have m\ own life to live, you know, and 'inperative matters will keep me here for the next few days." — til refuse. How dare you come to me ’ike this? I>o you suppose I would have let you roll me, as you have done.if I had not exi»eoted you to keep to our bargain?” For answer Stanton pulled one of the newspapers lying on the table toward him, glanced at a certain column, then advane•d, to Tenby, and held tire paper out. The paragraph was headed "Missing." -inti weal mi. to .describe-Hubert - Tenby's appearance, giving details of his last known movements, with a substantial reward for any information that could he given that might lead to the discovery of his present whereabouts. The advertisement was signed by a firm of solicitors. If it could have been possible for Gerald Tenby to have turned paler, he would have done so. but his face was already as white and uorveless as though he had just risen from a bed of sickness. "Who —who can have doue this?" he asked.

“What does it matter who lias done this?” said Stanton, cttrtl.v. "It is enough for us that we stand now in active danger, arid that if we would save ourselves we most not lose a moment. Tenby, you must start at once. You know every step you must take. The way has been made clear for you. With coolness you can work out the end on the lines I have laid down." Great beads of perspiration stood out on Tenby’s faee; he trembled like a leaf. “I can't do this,” lie said, hoarsely; “you know I can't do it,” he repeated, wildly. “I am a changed man already with what has gone." “Hush !*' Stanton gripped his wrist like iron and silenced him as the door opened, and the new servant came in to clear the table. Obeying a sign from his confederate. Tenby turned and sat down at his desk again, pretending to be busy with letters, while Stanton picked up the newspaper, and seemed to be reading it cart'fully. He was watching the valet as he did so, and he saw enough curiosity in the man's face to warrant any amount of caution. "Have you this mouth's railway guide,?” he asked suddenly. The servant went at once in search of it, and Stanton turned the pages till he fotind'what he wanted! “There is a good train this evening." he remarked to Tenby. “I think I shall go by'that. Art you dining at the club?” Gerald Tenby bent hi* head. “Then I can-see you there for final instructions," observed Stanton. His manner was calm and practical. He suddenly addressed a question to the valet. “By the way, Bates, has a man been calling here the last few days, asking to see Sir Gerald?” The valet ooloredcsiightly. “Yes, sir," he answered. "Sir Gerald's last servant has been here twtee."—“Ah I full of grievance, I suppose? Well, let me know the next time he comes. Sir Gerald expects me to look after these sort of Things for him. I promised Stephens a written character," Stanton said, now addressing Tenby, "and I must see to this.” When the door had closed vpon the valet Stanton touched Sir Gerald on the ■■ ■ ■ ‘ i ' ~ r *~ r ~ “The net is closing, you see," he said. Ttjpby shivered. Suddenly there had flashed back to hi* rememtffance the vision of Antonia’s pure, beautiful face; it

I .stung film into a very tqrtur* of »»morae, fear, soibhatred. “I almost wish it would close ; then there would be an end to this," he Raid,

'Hoarsely. “Bah!” The word fell like a knife’ thrust from Stanton's lips. “So once, more it is 1 who must work.—But after to-night lie W3rued, IV-nTiyi—l do no’more, 1 only- go to-night because you are 100 much of a cur to see this through. Now, Tenby, lister ; these are rny dfderg: Y'ou are to lit* -a-t-voter- clubal Ithis afternoon ; and evening, so that I may send for you in case of necessity. Y'ou understand?” Gerald Tenby rose and looked at Stanton, with a flush of rage coloring his face. * “I understand,” he said, sullenly*,. Then Stanton bent his head and whig-' pered a few sen fences in the other man'* ear, ami tbe--raee wa«4— face, and gave place again to fear. * * * * * * * Lady Betty March mom i Missed her time in a kind >«f fever till lie moment' oama .when Gerald Tenby should !>*■ announced, but as five. o'clock came and Went, and there'-was no sign i ‘of him she rang the bell for. her maid, and ordered her to bring down a hat and a sunshade.

“I am going out,” she said, sharply; “the house is suffocating."' I(In her doorstep she was met by her butler, whose face had a pained and sad expression. The news he had' tb p# hei was no news to Lady Betty. The doctor was with her husband at that moment, she was told, so she waited in,the hall to see the medical man as he passed down. Whop he came he wore rbrJ-roublcd. even perplexed look. • "I am afraid, Lady Elizabeth,” be saidr’ •gravely, “that your husband has been overexerting himself. 1 find him in a very weak condition. " The action of the heart is strangely feeble. It seems to me he is quire a changed man." "I assure yon. Dr. Anderson,” she said, ill tier sweetest way, "I have wearied myflf with i r.\ iiiglo peruado Edward to put hi in elf into your hand. I have noticed for some time past that he has not been at all strong. I fancy that the sudden death •of his old friend. Sir Maurice Tenby, gave him a great shock. I hope you don't find him really ill.” "To tell you the truth, Lady Betty, I don’t quite understand his condition. He is- in that state of health that matters might go very badly indeed with him' were lie to have, a ..serious illness.” "We must be careful',’’ Lady Betty said quickly, "to guard him against any illness of rlii.s sort- Thank you so much for eom4ng,- Dvj Anderson jit was very good of Lady Betty passed on up to her room with a faint smile hovering oil her lips. Outside her husband's door she hesitated for an instant, then, with a shrug of her shoulders, she turned the. handle and passed into the room. ........ The rustle of her skirts caused Edward Marchtnont to open his eyes. lie was lying on a couch by the window," propped up by pillows, and he certainly did look -astonishingly iIL “I am so grieved that you should be troubled, dear,” he said. "It is only a little weakness.” . - “Dr. Anderson tells me you have been doing far too much,” Lady Betty said. “Now. Edward. I shall insist that you cease all work for a time, at least.” lie entreated her not to worry about him. and when she suggested remaining to spend the evening ii# his room, he 'would no: hear of it. "Y’ou are always in such a demand, my darling." he said “and to-niglit is surely, is it not, the night of the Duchess of Chester's great ball? What do you suppose all your friends would say of me were I to keep you here on such an occasion?” "My friends would do very well without me." Lady Betty said, and there was a touch of bitterness in her voice. "Poor Antonia ! lam so sorry for her. I must let her know that you are ill.” llor last few words had put a sudden idea into her mind. She must get Antonia Back again. This illness was the very means of doing it: at least if she could not induce the girl to stay in the house, she would brmg-Anlonia to it more frequently, and that would mean that slia would at least lie able to prevent to? man; meetings with Gerald. (To be continued.)