Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 12, Number 35, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 25 February 1882 — Page 2

4/

THEjMAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TERRE HAUTE, FEB. 25, 1882

VIDA CAROLAN

OR,

FATAL BEAUTY.

CiLA.PTBB

VI.

NOT REVENGE—BUT VENGEANCE.

Ill deedi wtll n3e,

Tho' all the world o'erwhelm them, to men's EYES. —&SAKESP*AR*. A hansom cab stopped outside a large house on the south side of Cavendishsquare, and Dare Devereux sprang out of it and knocked at the door, whereon a brass plate bore the name of "Mr. Gifford West," who was one of the most eminent surgeons of the day.

Mr. West at homer* he asked of the pre-eminently respectable man-serv-ant who opened the door. •'Yes, sir he baa just come in." "Thanks tell me where he is, and you need not announce me., I am Mr. Devereux—an old friend." "He is in his study, sir." "Thanks again," and Deverenx passed •down a passage, and knocked at a door at the «nd. "Come in!" said a full-toned, pleasant voice. "Dare Devereux, by nil that's lucky!" and Devereux's hand was closely clasped in both those of a fine handsome man of about forty, who, however, looked at least five years younger. "Where did you spring from?' continued Gifford West. "Immediately, from a hansom," returned Devereux, smiling, "more remotely, from Carlton-gardens." "Well, I am very glad to see you," said •Gifford West. "Sit down and let us have a chat for a wonder I have a bit of spare time." "Fortune favors mo then," said Devereux, seating himself. "I hartily ventured to hope I should even Bee you. That is the debt you pay to fame. Now tell me about yourself. Have you fallen in love since you wrote last?" "No," said West, "not yet. I begin to think I never shall now. But I might I retort." "Oh, I! I am too fastidious. I want, I more perfections than can be united, in one human form." "Then you haven't yet met the new beauty?" "Yes, I have," said Devereux, drawing •out a case of the dantiest cigarettes and offering it to his coHUHinion. "I was at Lady Mansfield's garden-party on Thursday, and Miss Carolan was there. Have you seen her yet?" "'No but, of course,* I have heard of lier. What do you think of her?" asked the surgeon, selecting a cigarette. "What can anyone think of her?" aaked Devereux, "but that she is perfectly beautiful, and altogether tho kind of girl one reads about, but never expects to meet." "Take care, Devereux!" said West, laughing1 "you are very, very proud, but your prido won't save you from the glamor of such a woman as this beauty seems to be." "Maybe not," said Devereux coolly, and •not seeming to be at all moved by his friend's badinage. "Most men have sooner or later to make fools of themselves, and my time will perhaps be later, as it hasn been sooner." "I hope it will be. Devereux. You are too good to be wasted on bachelordom." "Too good a prize, perhaps," was the cynical reply "but tho less said about any other kind of goodness, the better." "I know you mean what you say, but there is not the remotest chanco of my agreeing with you," said West, smiling "so we will drop the subject and go to another. I suppose that you have not been able to trace Hester Ransome since she disappaared from Vienna a year ago?" "Aye," said Devereux "but I would not commit it to writing, so waited till I saw you. I came upon her again at Prague the woman has but ono resource, and that is to fly. She was keeping a sort of gambling-hell, combining fortunetelling with play. I kept out of sight.— I have not met hor face to faco sinco that night in the Pare Moncean, when I first saw her but she knows well who it is that dogs her steps. I gave the jwlice a hint at Prague, and madam disappeared once more. Since then I have not seen her but I shall not rost till I discover the whole truth. We have proof now only of a certain fact none of how that fact came about. In Paris I can find no cluo though, as you know, I have sought it "Have you any idea where she is now! asked the surgeon. "I suspect sne is in London, and for this reason all the knaves of society, those at least that live by their wits, gravitate towards Paris and London they may take along time reaching them, and they may not remain in them—they, cannot sometimes but at noma time or other the inevitable fate is worked out. Now

Paris is too hot for Madame Ransome so indeed Is Vienna therefore, I judge her to be in London." "And if." said West, "or, I had better Bay* when you find her, whitt couvse do you propose to follow! To drive her out of this last asylumr

Dare Devereux laughed a soft, low laugh, but with a grimness in its tone, and a glitter in the .blue eves that boded ill to the woman of whom he spoke. "My dear fellow," said he deliberately, "do you imagine that all these years I have had no end in view but that of driving this wretched woman from city to city? Such revenue as that would not satisfy me and it is not revenge I seek, but vengeance. If Heater Ransome is in London, my olqect is so far attained. Here let her rest in fancied security." "What do ytin mean. Devereux "This," *aid Devereux. bending for•wards and laying his slender white hand on his friend's arm "Continental laws are too uncertain in their action. Continental judges too untrustworthy for mo to risk all on the hazard of being at the tender mercy of either. I wool a not have her suspect my real purpose, my knowledge of the worst, until I am ready to strike a blow that shall be final and that blow must be struck in England. When I discover where she is. 1 shall watch her, and work in secret. Remember also that niv task is the more sure here, the more difficult abroad, because Hester Ransome is an English subject, and so was Percival •Clareraont.*

Gifford West drew a lonp, deep breath. "Dare Devereux," he said, "you are a terrible enemy. No man could understand you. It takes a woman to pierce the warp and woof of such natures as yours. and a rare woman then. 1 only Lope you »:ny ih the lijrht one."

monplace

speaking

TERRE

•Stifi harping on my daughter,'" quoted Devereux. "What object can you nave ia wanting me to make a fool of myself?" "I deny your premises. I don't want yon to make a fool of yourself only don't go and fall in love with some commonplace girl, as brilliant men like you are apt to do." "Are you thinking of any special

com­

girl?" asked Devereux, lighting

a a re W "You think I am like a woman and cannot generalize," said West.

MI

think you are like a woman, and can evade a question, my dear friend. No, I do not consider you incapable of generalization but men, as well as women, frequently veil the concrete under the guise of the abstract. Therefore, I repeat my question." "Well, well," said West, half laughing, "I ought to have known better than to try and hoodwink you, Devereux. I was

generally, to some extent but

nUn I had an individual in my mind's eye." «, "Whof "Helen Leicester." "I thought so." Dare's fine face clouded for a moment. "There is not the remotest danger of my changing for any warmer feeling the unexciting kind of friendship I have for Helen. I don't see why you should have any fear on that head. A man is not bound to fall in love with a girl because he knew her in pinafores, and gave her a new sovereign at Christmas time." "Of course not. Forgive me. I merely thought it possible, not likely, and Lady Helen is considered very fascinating." «So she is, to some people but "If she be not fair to me,

Whdt care I how fair she be?"

Little more was said after this, for the surgeon's brief rest was interrupted by the arrival of a patient who wanted to see Mr. West at once.

They shook bands and parted, and Devereux went out to the cab which was still in waiting.

Cabby was bending from his box, tryingto comprehend a lady who was speaking to him in French, and seemed to be asking him some direction.

Her back was turned to Devereux as he came down the steps but though her parb was somewhat shabby, she was evidently a lady, and her voice was sweet, and refined. "There," exclaimed cabby, much relieved, as Devereux appeared, "this gentleman will help you, mum."

The lady turned sharply, and disclosed a handsome countenance, lighted by bright black eyes, and shaded by wavy dark hair. '•Can I assist you. madame," said Devereux, bowing.

How the woman's proud, anxious face lighted up at the sound of her own language, spoken, too, with the accent of a native. "Ab, monsieur," she said eagerly, but with the dignity of a high-bred woman, "I should be so infinitely obliged to you if you could direct me to Mortimer-street. I cannot make myself understood." "Easily, madame. You are quite close to it.* And in a few words Devereux gave the required direction. "Thanks, monsieur you are too kind."

And with a graceful bow on both sides, the two separated, she walking eastward, he driving southward, and probably neither of them thought that they would ever meet again.

Vida Carolan's face

Speedily

chased

Frenchwoman's countenance out of

the

the'

foi-eground of his thoughts, put wha^ did conjecture w»a wiieiner

the

"beautitul

Bohemian," as she was sometimes called, would be at Mrs. Staunton's ball to-mor-row night.

Whether or no, he could not well avoid going, but her presence or absence would make all the difference in his pleasure.

CHAPTER VII.

"8WBBTBST BYBS WBKB BVBR SBBJf." I plant a tree whose leaf Tho yew-treo loaf will suit! *,

But when its shade is o'er you laid ,. Turn round and pluck the fruit. —E. B. BnoWNiNQ. I "Mies Carolan, I am so delighted to see you. I was beginning to fear that we should not have tho pleasure of your company to-night," said Mrs. Staunton, shaking hands with Vida at the entrance of her beautiful saloon, filled with a welldressed throng of the elite of society. "I am so sorry," Vida answered, but five minutes after leaving the Lyceum we were blocked in the Strand for fully twenty minutes, and my coachman, I am afraid, used some strong language but all to no purpose."

Mrs. Staunton laughed at Miss Carolan's reply. "Well," she said, "your absence has produced throes of despair in many a heart. Denzil complains that you would not promise him one dance beforehand." "I did not signal him out for refusal," said Vida. "I would not make any such promises. Where is Mr. Staunton? I mast m&ko my jwith him* If I bad only thought oftt, I would have brought some fragments ot did china with ma." "Wicked girt!"

But Vida passed on laughing, and was at once surrounded. Her quick glance sought for Dare Devereux. and soon saw him, standing near the entrance to the conservatory talking to Beatrix Mansfield. He did not join the throng around Vida, and appeared to be almost unconscious of her entrance, although he could not in reality have been so and this proud reticence, which would have piqued most women in Vida's position, inspired her with additional respect for him and yet, after all, he had given her truer, deeper homage than any of the fops who dangled after her, and delighted to repeat her bans moti or to catch a smile from her, which was more often at their expense than they had wits enough to perceive.

The girl knew well enough, however, that Dare Devereux would soon be at her side, and presently, after allowing her card to be three-quarters filled^ she sat down on a low lounge not far from the conservatory, and dismissed moet of her train with a oavalier manner all her own, that never lacked in courtesy, and yet very effectually rid her of the moths. "I am getting tired of it all," Denzil Staunton, who still Hngwed, "it is true, indeed. After all, a faahMpabfe life is a terribly monotonous as well frivolous one but I must not moralise. Please go and te!l Mr. Devereux I want to speak to him."

Denzd took this for his x»»0*apd tat his lip as he departed on the desired errand, which he delivered with as good grace as he could muster.

A minute later Devereux was bending over Vida's little hand. "I did not think," she said, lifting those deep, wistful, basel eyes to his, "that I should b*vfc to send for you to avoid 06ing overlooked a!tog-ether." "You did not so^ wrong me, Mjss Caro­

lan, I- aui sure," answered Devereux, seating himself beside her. "I dnly waited for just the opportunity you hate given me." W "I suppose I must accept your explanation and forgive you, though perhaps, is you are1 a very haughty person, you will decline to be forgiven "Only because—by your own admission —I have done nothing that calls for pardon."

Vida laughed, a low bright laugh that was hardly merry. "Mr. Devereux you area great relief, you are so unlike cet attires—not one of them would have tripped nre up for my Irishism, they would nave vowed themselves delighted to have been in the wrong, that they might win forgivelless, or some such trash as that."

uCet

autres" would have tlushed to

their foreheads at such delicate flattery from Vida Cardan's lips Dare Devereux did not change color, but looked down with a half smile creeping over his own lips the girl's quick glance caught the expression and the color rose In her soft cheek. She had intended to flatter Devereux, but yet she bad spoken the trnth he was unlike all the others that surrounded he* and had she no reason for hating him, she would have been always happy in his society but he refused to inhale the subtle incense, and perhaps scorned her for offering it, crediting her, doubtless, with an ulterior motive. Vida had never before in her life felt humiliated she felt it now, the more so that her conscience could not quite acquit her. Her tongue failed her, she turned aside and her breast heaved the idea that this man whose happiness she was bent on destroying should take her for what she knew herself—in some sense—to be, was a cruel pang to her but no acting could have better stood her in stead than that irresistible touch of the nobler nature. Dare Devereux was vanquished at once. "Miss Carolan," he said, quick and low, "forgive me—forgive me, I entreat you you misunderstand me. I merely thought, I will confess it, that you spoke in careless ball-room flattery and I own that from you, such, as I deemed them, unmeaning words, pained me "But they were not unmeaniftg," the girl interrupted, "indeed they were not. I spoke the truth. "Then am I your debtor," paid Dever* eux, more calmly, even a little coldly.

Was he still unconvinced of her perfect sincerity? Did he perceive that she had answered him with subtlety? She had spoken truth, but not for truth!s sake. "Miss Carolan," he added, "believe me that from you I would rather hear a harsh truth than a compliment, however flattering, that did not express your i-eal mind." "Thank you. You know that is a great compliment to me," said Vida, half archly, shrinking from the interest in her which this speech implied, and trying to make light of it. "Then you and I are not to pay compliments to each other? Make the bargain reciprocal, and I will gladly set my seal to it."

(t

"Ah, now you are cruel! I can honestly promise not to pay meaningless compliments. The truth has so wide afield that there is no room for fiction." "You are determined to transgress." said Vida, lifting her finger. "I am bound by no promise." "And will not make one? Very well then I shall take my own remedy, and if you talk nonsense to me, talk the same to you." "Even if you could do so, you would

you are as stupid as the rest! I will not talk at all." "That is a brave resolution for a lady," said Devereux,, unmoved. "How will you answer me when I ask the honor of your hand for your next free dance?"

Vida glanced at him wickedly, and silently handed him her programme. He looked down it and marked bis initials against two dances instead of only one.— But Vida shook her head, and was about to erase the second D. V. D., when Devereux, with that mixture of boldness and pleading which few women can resist, stayed her hand. ••Only two," he said. "Have some mercy! Is it not punishment enough that you refuse to speak to me? Is not revenge satisfied yet?"

She yielded with a half smile and jesting words. "I am not sure that you deserve pardon, but the quality of mercy, since it 'blesses twice,' will be as great a benefit to me as to you only please emulate it, and do not tell me that, womanlike, I cannot keep avow of silence." "That would indeed be ungrateful besides, do you know that I am not at all sure that your sex is really more given to chattering than mine, though, I suppose, nothing would now avail to shake the popular tradition." ur "Mr. Devereux, my experience, though not a very long one, endorses your remark and here comes a ease in point— my partner for the next waits. Oh, what a chatterbox Mr. Summers is, though he Is really very amusing." •The club newsman, that is '.mt we call him," said Devereux, laughing. "His tongue is certainly on a swivel, but he is a thoroughly good fellow, though I am not sure that I feel very amiable towards him just now."

He rose as he spoke, and with a bow withdrew to seek his own partner, while Laurence Summers led out Vida Carolan. Vida was £lad when the dance was over and she could rest a little. She sat out the next dance, and the next was Dare Devereux's she wished it had been anybody else's—wished it, and did not wish it but she looked up with a bright smile when he came to claim her. "They are forming," he said, "so we bad better take our places."

Lady Mansfield, by whose side Vida had been sitting, watched the two as they passed in among the crowd, and turned to Mrs. Staunton. "They are the handsomest couple in the rooms." she said, "and tha best dancers. Dare Devereux will inevitably burn his wings if he flutters round that candle." "Maybe be is willing to do so but what will the girls say? There are more than a dcoen who seem to think they have a vested right in him—Helen Leicester for one."

While the ladies thus conversed the band struck up, and the waltz began and again came over Vida's heart a vague sense of a happiness that dulled the sense of wrong. Dare Devereux's arm encircled her, his hand clasped hers—yet there seemed to be inward resentment that warred with the outward submission to hjs touch. At the conclusion of the dance Devereux proposed a saunter in the conservatory, and she gl esced, with no thought at the moment of

HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAT],

Jy:

gladly acqui-

her miserable task. But it came to her afterwards as ther paced through the

kiM

§gp§

£ragzabt alleys, and' flfought a feeling of Instinctively she drew her hand froa her companion** arm, and in the very instant remembered herself, and would have given worlds to recall the movement. "Shall we sit here for"* little while?" she said quickly, lui-mng towards a bench, and Devereux bowed in silence, and as she seated herself, sat down beside her. He looked at her face, a little averted, a little drooping. Was this girl a consummate coquette, or was she prompted to an act that, according to ordinary rules of judging conduct, was inexplicable, by some feeling of compunction with regard to himself? He bent down to her—he spoke almost abruptly. "Miss Carolan, have I been so unhappy as to oflend you—if so, tell me how do not keep me in suspense." "You offend! Oh, no, no why should

rou She paused, then added hasti"Why should you imagine it!" "How could I do else!" said Devereux, almost sternly "surely m$ question was not wholly uncalled for!" "You have not offended me, indeed," she said in a low voice "do believe me, Mr. Devereux. I waa foolish just now,, I own it it was a thought that crossed me, and I am impulsive. I cannot explain more, I can only apologize-—" "Hush, bush! for pity's sake." Devereux felt as if he had played the part cf an inquisitor. "1 cannot, will not hear you," he went on, with more passion in his voice than he was aware of. "I am to blame, not you. Forgive me." "You are generous to me, Mr. Devereux, unjust to yourself," said Vida, mastering herself with aa effort "but let the matter rest, since it. pains you to speak of it." "It does more than pain me he •topped and bit his lip. "But you have forgiven me, and that is enough, or should be."

Vida dared not ask what that qualification meant. Young though she was, she had more of the knowledge of a woman of the world than many a woman of thirty, and guessed something of the interpretation Devereux had put upon her impetuous act. To enlighten him would have been more consistent with the role she had toplay, but she could not do it, the words would have frozen on her lips, and instead of a feeling of vengeful joy, there was only one of a kind of terror at the knowledge that, with no effort on her part, Dare Devereux was learning to think too much of her for his own peace.

She did not answer his last words, but after a moment's silence, rose and proposed a return to the ball-room.

MAs

you. will," he said, and they turned Back towards the taion. They had' nearly reached the entrance, when a man's voice, that of Rokeby Dangers, spoke low and rapidly to- some one else, both forms being hidden behind a 'thick screen of begonias. "Say, old man. Hist! a word1. Will you come with me to-night to Duke-street "Awl" returned a foppish voice, "how can I? One must have the entree there." "I can introduce you—if the old girl knows who it is, you know but, not a WOrd aloud ,,!•?-.ryr.tzi "All right, I'll come!" ,,

There was not a change in Vida's face rot the quiver of a muscle. Was there in her companion's? 8he glanced at him covertly be must have heard what passed as well as she had, but there was nothing to indicate, even to her keen perception, that he thought the words worth notice thoy would not convey to a man of the world any meaning that was at all out of the way and yet Vida would have certain that Dare Devereux had paiS no attention to that chance question about Di" Lvet. .-/f

CHAPTER VIII.

•*o:.ii ::oasu.*o VBirr

BABLY" IW PICCADILLY.

I know that deformed: he has been a vile thief these seven years. I remember his name. —SHAKESPEARE.

Daylight was painting the eastern sky in glowing tints of rose and gold, and dimming the light of wax tapers, when Mrs. Staunton's baU broke up and not a few beauties, young as well as more matured, began to fly before the tell-tale dawn.

But Vida Carolan had nothing to fear from Aurora's leams, nor from' the full radiance of the sun god's countenance.

Neither-rouge nor enamel, nor any of the mysterious cosmetics with wnich some foolish women damage the charms they design to enhance, ever touched the girl's pure skin and she looked as lovely as she stood fearlessly facing the eastern sky, admiring its changing hues, as under the artificial light—nay, if possible, more so at least, srt thought Dare Devereux,. who had just thrown round her her rich cashmere mantl^ "Thanks," she said,\ smiling, her eyes still fixed on the sky. "And when shall I s4e you again?" said Devereux, after a moment's pause, beodingdown.

The girl started the*, slightly, vfery slightly, but answereda\once: "T cannot tell unless you will honor my pdbr house next Momay evening—a taint musieah I have otw asked *cboice spirits,' genuine devoteeajnd I know you are one. Will you come "Will I enter Elysian dels, Miss Carolan You honor me. too m^ch ia asking

"My tbanks are rather Devereux, and do, not coun' *mnte inglorious Milton.' I people whose candle really 1 it under a bushel." "How do you know my fcuidle does burn?* "What are the little birdsUnade for? To tell us the news, I fancy of birds makes me think of ^ngs, and must spread mine."

Adieux were made, and thereby arousing the envy of peers, led out Vida to her ca "An revoir,n siid she, givin hand through the window, "You will not forget—Monda 4 might forget the Queen's •aid Devereux, still holding while be gave the answer, scions how tightly his own cl it, "but never Vida Carolan's.''

vereux, his come. im her archly-: st nine." mand." er band unconaround

Vida, as her carriage drove Vf!, drew back into the corner, trembling, fth beating heart and again—where Was the feeling of triumph that should hire filled her? Whence, instead, those thlbs of a strange wild joy—that were yet Iternated by throbs of bitter pain and 4 inexplicable fear?

She bated Dare Deverenx had wrought a cruel wrong, and it 4s her task to avenge that wrong. Hi she counted the cost! Her mothi had warned her of peril herself.\Bah! Why will thought so rut riot? only seen Devereux twite—and she bated him.

Dare Devereux, when he left Mrs. I ton's house, dismissed btebrougbat calling a- hansom, bade th man di PiccadiKy, and when that pleasant •t -i .••

oughCare waa reached, he stopped the cab* jumped out and dismissed eabby, who drove away grinning. 1

But he was wrong this time.! Devereux, who had a light wrap coat over his evening dress, was on no such errand as his late driver not unnatural! ured. He paused at the foot of street, where he had alighted, and looked right and left. "Danvers and Dolph Tollemache left two hours ago," said Dare Devereux to himself "they must turn out soon."

He turned eastwards, sauntering in the most leisurely manner, until nearly opposite Duke-street, when be paused again then he passed it, and went on, glancing down the street as he crossed. It was as silent as the grave.

Devereux walked a few hundred yards and then retraced his steps, and as he once more neared Duke-street, the sound of footsteps and voices struck his ear he quickened his pace a little, and the next moment two figures came out of Dukestreet. almost before him.

In the same moment that he recognized Rokeby Danvers and Dolph Tollemache— the young man to whom Danvers had spoken in the conservatory—Danvers turned round and saw bim. "Devereux!" he exclaimed. "Where the deuce have you come from "I might retort, my dear fellow," replied Devereux laughingly "what wondrous attraction has Duke-street for you?" "Ob, that is easily answered but pacing Piccadilly at 4 -30 a. m. is really a most reprehensible proceeding." "No doubt, when it leads you to the discovery of other fellows' peccadilloes but I don't ask indiscreet questions." "You may ask anything you please, my boy. Come along with us, and I'll tell you where we've been the jolliest crib out. only mum's the word!" "I understand."

He linked his arm in that of Danvers and they went onwards. "You wouldn't trouble madame much," continued the Hon. Rokeby, "as you don't go in for play." "Play! Oh, then 'tis a gambling-house." "Mind!" interrupted Danvers. "You won't betray anything?" "Tut, man!" returned Devereux, with a touch of hauteur "am I a garrulous schoolboy, or a professor of high morality Who, then, is this madame?" "More than I know but one meets some capital fellows there, 'pon my honor, and not very high play either at least, not at present. Mrs. Russell has apartments at No.—. Do you know the place? And of course the people in the street must think some dame aux eameUat lodges there that is all right for her. I don't suppose the people in the shop below care anything about the matter so long as they get their rent. They don't see anything, for they don't live on the premises. I don't think scandal itself could credit Mrs. Russell with being the frail individual." "Why not? Is she old?" "Sixty if she's one, and no doubt a sinner rather than a saint in her day but that day has passed. She may have been handsome once she isn't now." "And is gaming," said Devereux, pulling his glistening moustache, "the only attraction of this place?" ••The only one—honor bright—that I have ever seen, or any one else. No one would fall in love with Fanchette. although she imagines herself to bo very fascinating." "Fanchette?" '•The servant—Mrs. Russell's servant."

Devereux made a mental noto of- the servant »i. hwi-aelf fascinating anything may be done with a plain woman who believes herself a beauty. "Entrance by introduction, I suppose he observed carelessly. "Aye, and jolly stiff the old girl is about the introduction. You can't bring a .fellow without first submitting his name, as if he were going to be presented at Court. very select circle we are, I assure you."

1

'Bwayne's "Swayne's "8Wayne's "Swayne's «'8wajrne's •'Swayne's "Swayne's •'Swayne's •'Swayne's ••Swayne's •'Swayne's •'Swayne's ••Swayne's 'Swayne's •Swayne's

"'i:

"All men?" "At present, yes and if Mrs. Russell is wise, no ladies will be admitted no women are very discreet, and demi mondaines least of all and nothing else female would go." "I should hope not," said Dare Devereux dryly "for they would find plenty of men indiscreet enough to bandy their names about the clubs." "You stand up for the ladies?" said Dolph Tollemache, laughing. "I have lived longer in tho world than you have, Dolph, and my experience is that my own sex furnishes well-nigh as many recruits to the vast army of fools as the opposite sex. Danvers, how long has Mrs. Russell been in Duke-street?" "Don't know not long, I fancy. Do you want to make one of the company?" "Not I, thanks. If I go in for plunging, are there not proprietary clubs?"

He halted as he spoke. "Here, my friends, I must bid you adieu and if good advice were ever followed, I •hould say,.Keep clear of Duke-street but it never is. Good-night." "Good-night, old fellow," and the three separated. Dare Devefeux taking his way to Carlton-gardens. •t breakfast-time that morning, Mr. Devereux sent for his trusty valet. ."Ellis," said he, "at No. —, Dukestreet^ Piccadilly, lodges a Mrs. Russell. Go down to Duke-street this morning— butdonl be seen from that house—and find out all you can about her."

Ellis, who was as good as a detective— that .is, a theoretical detective, but a great deal better than a real one, simply answered, "Yes, sir," bowed and withdrew.

He did not see his master again till the evening, as Devereux was out all day but about 7 o'clocktDare came in from a ride in the Row, and then Ellis presented himself and delivered his report. "Mrs. Russell came to lodge in Dukestreet in March. She has the drawingroom floor. The people of the shop below are called Goodman—a father and son they are queer sort of people, and not at all particular who they take as lodgers they have had 'shy' people before. Mrs. Russell is about sixty, tall, rather stout, with grey hair she seldom goes out, but pays her way with "her tradespeople. There is a servant, Fanchette, a Frenchwoman she speaks hardly any English, and is proof against all pumping. There is a back entrance to the house. Young men of fashion constantly visit the house, generally in the small hours of the morning. The prevailing opinion is that some eocoUtt who keeps herself bidden from the public eye, dwells there."

This was all even the astute Ellis could diseover. Evidently Mrs. Russell was a person who knew how to baffle tho curiosity of her neighbors. "My next move," said Deverenx to himself, when once more alone, "is to see Mrs. Russell no great difficulty about that, if I am right as to her identity then to the

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3l

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It curesTett

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A CALTD.

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Lvom|xuitS

."Svnupoj

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FAI.I.RIVKR, MASS., March

.T

AMKS

LKKLLOWS.tnrce

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