Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 19, Number 40, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 30 March 1889 — Page 2

I

,§ ifj ft

9

chaptku xvr.

The necessity of earning bread forced, me to seek labor. My money was all spent, and a day arrived when I was penniless. The ring and the cord were still in my possession. I do not know how it was that I was tempted to keep them .about me perhaps it was as a punishment "Which I obstinately inflicted upon myself —as though my sufferings were not great 'enough without these evidences of my -guilt but the fact remains, that I found it impossible to part with them. When I -was penniless I could have twisted the •diamond out of the ring, and wold the gold for a few shillings, which really would ihave enabled uie to live without lalkir for tsome considerable time for during all this dolorous time I ate nothing font dry bread, •and drank nothing but water, I did wot, however, put it to thi* use. It did not .belong to nie it belonged to the dead. 'The labor I obtained was of the lowest and most menial kiud, and thus it was that, being far away north, I found my* self working in the hop gardens. The pay was bad, but that mattered not it sufficed for bread. The danger was that I herded with men and women of a degraded stamp, and that. like them, 1 was fast becoming hmtaiimi. This enforced contact with degradation caused in me a ikind of revulsion. Hitherto I had kept mostly to myself, and the gloomy thoughts in which 1 indulged were created by my •own lack of moral strength but now that I was brought face to face with thiugs 1 abhorred, I saw, as it were, the reflection of my own moral image, and the thoughts it engendered had a salutary effect upon roe. It was this better phase of experience which led me into the companionship of a 'Mian of a higher grade than the other hopylckers. The name of this man was Stanmore. I was never made acquainted with .his Christian name. ile must have recognized in me, as I recognized in him, a man of a superior stamp and he confided to me that he was juot hop-picking from necessity. "The fact is, Gnskell," he said to me (I fli ul to bear some name, and I chose that), -"I am killing two birds with one stone. •One bird is with me the other I am wait'ring for."

This, of course, was enigmatical to me, but I (lid not ask for an explanation. He «ave me one of his own prompting. "The bird that is here is in my portfolio the bird I am waiting for is a woman."

I knew what he meant by this reference *"u his portfolio, which contained a number of sketches he had been making of the hop-pickers, selecting for choice the most squalid and disreputable subjects. He had thrown out hints that I might look over these sketches, but I had not. availed my.self of the offer.

The hop-picking was now over, and we were paid off. Upon Stanmore's invitation I accompanied him to a respectable hotel, and agreed to remain with him for two or three days. It was the first time ulnce my banishment that 1 had consented to lead a decent life, and I did so now chiefly out of a feeling of gratitude towards Stanmore for having provided me with a refuge from the indescribably •coarse associations which otherwise would have been my lot. In the hotel at which we stopped ho engaged two rooms—a sit-ting-room and another with two beds in it. Thus far he had persuaded me, but he could not induce me to join him at meals.

I still adhered to my humble fare, of which I partook in secret. On the first night of our stopping at the hotel we were in the sitting-room, which was lit with gas. Stanmore was busy -with his sketches, which, when he first vtook them, had leen merely sketches in rough outline: now. with paiuts and brushes before him, he was engaged in perfecting them. A bottle of claret and glasses were on the table. "Gaskell,'' he said, "you are a strange fellow, and that, I dare say. Is the reason why I have taken to yon. I like everything that is strange. But you are. moreover, an enigma. lacked in your breast it* a story it would entertain me to hear."

Startled, I gazed at him. and hnlf rose. "Psha!" ho said. "Sit down again. 1 lo not ask you to tell me your story, unless in a moment of confidence yon choose to unbend. Now I am in the humor to be more frank and open. I^et me give you a piece of advice, though, properly, you .should be the better able to give it to me, beiug the elder of the two. Don't take life too seriously it is not worth while. "Those enjoy the most who accept it as a comedy. Tragedy or comedy, it is before you to take your choice. The same thing that will make you cry will make you 4augh. It all depends upou the view you take. Some people are annoyed at being -•tickled I enjoy it. If a man gives me a «lap iu the face I laugh and give him one in return. The laugh is an enjoyable »condiment in the dish the frown imparts »n objectionable flavor to the meats"

I could have argued with him that it Mr as a matter of temperament, but it was not my cue to say anything that might enlarge the field of conversation and I therefore held my tongue. "All right," continued Stanmore, and I ^understood him to allucje to my silence: "it suits me. I was ever a voluble fellow, and my tongue bids fair to grow rusty with the company I have kept these last two or three weeks. The worst of your English clodhopper is that he is dulL I don't complain of him for being coarse it is his dullness that nettles me. He never makes a remark worth the listening to, and to hold forth to such scum is enough to give one the megrims. On the Conti«ent—I have travelled, Gaskell-—it is different. Von get a flash of wit occasionally you tneet with a farceur who entertains yon but here, God save us, there Is nothing but coarseness and drunkenness.

No, there is no talking to such dregs of the gutters. Now yod, Gaskell, are an~T» of education—no disguising it old rot and 1 most let off the steam, gratified that I have the opportunity of doing so in good •company. I come back to what 1 was say ing-you lean towards tragedy in font views, I towards comedy. Ah, that's right! look through my portfolio: you'll find some fairish sketches he re—half of them taken In foreign lands.. Yes. as

Beatrice says, when I was born, "m ?r cried but then thews was a star i.„ I, and under that was I born.' I am grata-

FARJEON.

BY B. L-.

-Author of "Great Porter Square," "Gnf," Blades-o'-Qrass," Hearts," Devlin the Barber," Etc.

heritage. I laughed. 1 made mime

•ful it might have been otherwise a blessed called, and asked you whether you were

The Nine

was flogged at school was expelled I laughed. I money: I laughed. I was

robbed of it: I laughed. I fell in love I laughed. I married: I laughed. My wife deceived me, and ran away f?om me I laughed. I shall, in all probability, in this very town meet her and the man she preferred to me I shall laughf Men prate of different philosophies, but I will stake miue against the lot. There is something in my portfolio that interests von. What is it?"

He came and leaned over my shoulder. 1 was looking at two sketches which seemed strangely familiar to me: one was a duel scene the other tipsy brawl. Where had I seeti those pictures, or their like, before? I could not recall, and yet they haunted me. "Not bad," said Stanmore. "I have sold plenty of copies of those and of other pictures in the portfolio. Continental subjects most of them they are the most popular. Gasket), for the hist half hour thut glass of wine has stood at your elbow, and you have not put your lips to it." "I do not drink," I said, coustraiued to answer him. "Tragedy again. A mistake. I give you my word, if 1 could serve you, I would. However, I don't suppose yon will give me the opportunity. Now, if you had a wife as I had, and if she deceived you as mine has deceived me, you would sit down in sackcloth and ashes, and tear your hair. Yon wouldn't be any the better off for it, nor would it the more iucline her towards you by the measure of a hair's-breadth. Take my case. My wife runs away from me. I whistle her off. The world is wide, and it is filled with fair women. My wife is fair. I make no attempt to discover her: 1 give her to understand that she is free to go her way. What is the consequence? After an interval of three years, she finds out where I am, and suspects that I have money in my purse. She writes to me—O, in such tender tones! May she come and see me? Of course she may. And, Gaskell. she will come, and not alonel Site will bring the other fellow with her—or, rather, he will insist upon coming with her, telling her that he will keep out of my way. Little does she dream that this will exactly suit me. The fact is, I feel rather hampered, tied to my wife who is not my wife. Without knowiug it, she will supply me with evidence against herself I shall put her in the Divorce Court, from which I shall issue with a clean bill, to marry again if I please. And I may please, for I have a susceptible heart."

In this way did Stanmore rattle on till it was time for bed. It wns while we were in bed and in the dark that he called-— -i, "Gaskell!" "Yes," I answered. "I have got my wife in the toils," he said, laughing heartitv. "A detective is following her unawares."

He continued to laugh for some time It struck me on the following moruiug that he cast strange compassionate gtances at me. "I have received two letters," he said "one from my charming wife, the other from my detective. My wife will be here this evening, and. as I suspected, her lover is with her. Both the letters are addressed to me at the postoflice: she does not know where I ani stopping. She herself will put up at a little inu. the name of which she gives me in her letter. It is called •The Bull and .Mouth.' I am going to reconnoitre it."

We walked together to the street in which it was situated, lingered a moment or two outside, and then returned to our own hotel. We should have remained in the open had a storm of rain not come on which rendered it advisable that we should take shelter under a roof. Then said Stanmore, with another of those compassionate glances which I had already observed— "Gaskell, old man, 1 am going to shojv you something: but yon must first give me a promise." "What promise?" I asked. "That when you see wliat I have to show you, and when you hear the explanation 1 shall give, you will not run away from me." "I give you the promise," I said "but I cannot, stay with you over to-morrow night." "Where are yon goiug to then?" "I do not know." "Well, well," he said, as though loth to press me, fearing that I might retract my promise "I must be content. But I hope we shall meet again. There is a singular attraction in yon, Gaskell, for which I cannot account. You promise me honorably?" "Yes, honorably." "As a gentleman?"

I made a pitiful motion with my hands I could not help it. There was so much true sincerity and feeling in his voice that it touched my heart. I could not—I could not»restrain the little sob of thankfulness which burst from me. Was it possible that I. a murderer, a thief, conld still win the respect of men? I turned from him, ashamed that he should witness my agitatiou, and partly afraid that it might betray me. "As a gentleman?" he repeated. "If you will have it so," I said, "as a gentleman." "I hold you to it," he said.

Then he took his sketch-book from his pocket, and, detaching a leaf, handed it to me. 1 stared at the drawing in dumb amazement. it represented a bedroom, the bedroom he ami I had occupied on the preceding night. On the table was alighted candle, and near it stood a man, apparently just risen from his bed. In his right hand were two articles, a*,».n which he was gasing with an express

:v

of unutterable woe

and despair in his The man was myself. The articles I was gazing upon were the ring aud the cord. "It Is yourself, you see," said Sta: imora. "I see," I muttered. W "Do you mnemberf" he asked. "No." "It occurred lastnight, at t: by my I WR* w*». 1»tut*r.s & of aay wfto, *tnaa«l al t~n I ikw| in store for her. A movement from th" p-trfc Of tf. !tt w\M» .'J «n noted myAitca'-iua. VjjWsc your bed, struck a match, and lit the en.-i.iidi I

'•£1(8

unwell you did not answer. your pockets, and produced the&frd •diamond ring and a piece of string approached the candle, and looked upon them, with just that ezpressii your face I have caught so faith! called to you again, and agj%in you did. not answer. Then I rose, got my sketch-Wok, and made the drawing. It struck me -as a good subject for a picture. It is seldom an artist has the chance of catching suqjt an expression as that When the sketch was finished, I came quite close to you and looked at the ring and the piece of string. It was a common strong piece of cord, but the ring startled me, the diamond in it being of such extraordinary brilliancy. •It is strange,' thinks I, 'that friend Gaskell works as a hop-picker, and lives on bread and water'—I know that, you see— •when he owns a ring which he could sell or pledge for a good many pounds.' You were fast asleep, Gaskell, and I ^*as more than ever convinced that you are the hero of some strange story. For at least a quarter of an hour you stood in the attitude in which you are depicted then you put out the candle: in the dark you replaced the articles in your pocket, and I heard you creep into bed. That is all."

It was sufficient. Was it fated that I myself should be compelled by inexorable justice to

supply

"A

gentleman wishes to see you immediately, sir." **r "Let him come in."

The waiter, departing, ret urned, ushering in a'man respectably dressed. The blood rushed to my head, and my heart beat violently: for 1 recog ized in him the detective who, with two other officers, had come to my house upon the morning of the murder of Mr. Wilmot. For a moment I thought that a trap had been set for me by Stanmore. and that, through him, justice had overtaken me. But one glance at his face couvinced me that I was in error. Evidently the detective, was a strauger to him. «t "My name isStanmore," he said. fWhat is your business with me?" "I am a detective officer," replied the man. He had looked at, me when he entered. and had turned away, apparently not recognizing me—my appearance was so changed. "I do not know you," said "You are mot the detective I em "No, but I am working with affair. Yon wife has arrived, an safely lodged at the 'Bull and MtjflTh.' My partner is watching her and^ho man wifth her. She cannot escape." "But why should she want to escape?" inquired Stanmore, who, I saw, was somewhat puzzled. "That," said the detective, "is what I have come to explain." "Shall I leave you, Stanmore?" 1 asked. "No, sir you had best remain."

It was not Stanmore who answered me, but the detective. When I spoke he had turned towards me again, and his sharp eyes took in every detail of my appearance. "You had best remain, ^ir," he repeated. "What I have to say may be of interest to you." He now addressed Stanmore. "I have a story to tell which it will Interest you to hear." "Let us hear it, then, by all means," said Stanmore. "If it is a long story, take a

S

CHAPTER XVII.

"I will endeavor not to make it long," said the detective, drawing a chair to the table, which I observed he placed in such a position that I could not leave the room without passing him. "In our profession it is as well to waste as few words as possible. When you gave your commission to my comrade I had just left the force, with the intention of starting a private business of my own, and I was in Losdon and in my comrade's office at t'he time you called upon him. I heard all you had to say, and the description you gave of your wife's personal appearance aroused my curiosity. "Yon left a portrait of her with my comrade, and when you were gone I looked at the picture, and was surprised to find that it was a woman whose face I was acquainted with. She had occupied a position as a kind of governess and companion in the house of a rich gentleman in Sevenoaks, where I was stationed when in government service, and 1 understood that she was a single woman. A Frenchwoman, too she went by the name of Mdlle. Rosalie. Your statement to my comrade that she was your wife, and an Englishwoman, proved to me that in Sevenoaks she had been sailing under false colors. 1 made a proposition to the officer you engaged. and we agreed to go partners in this affair, and to share and share alike whatever was got out of h. There was more depending upon It than you were aware of at. the time. In the house in which Mdlle. Rosalie, your wife, was employed, a murder had been committed. An old gentleman, Mr. Wilmot, was found strangled in his bed, and a large sum of money was missing—no less than five thousand pounds five hundred of which was in gold, and four thousand five hundred in Bank of England notes. Don't miss a word of what 1 am saying, gentlemen: yon will soon see the importance of it. Now, there was a mystery in connection with this murder. A man whose name was Samuel Fleetwood, who all his life had borne the best of characters, and had been employed in the service of Mr. Richard Pardon, the gentleman in whose lio ise the murder was committed, had disappeared on the night of the murder. Suspicion naturally fell upon htm, aad at the coroner's inquest a verdict of guilty was pronounced against him. Of course th«a was not conclusive. Before be f«m! guilty be had to be tried before be

Id be tried he had to be caught We not catch him, but eventually he g•MX*- himself up at the police station in Sevenoaks, asd confessed to the murder. Ile was in a dying state, and in point of fact he died in the police-station a fgw

'4

rERRE' H'AltTE SATj WAY EVENING MATT*

evidence, of my guilt?

Not for my life did I care, but the honor and good name of my wife and daughter were in my keeping, and those 1 must protect so long as it lay in my power. "Stanmore," I said, "release me .from my promise. I must go away at o&ce—at once!" "Yon are afraid of me?" "1 am. Better for me never to speak to mortal man again!" "Look agaiu at the sketch, Gaskell. Examine it well." 1 obeyed him, but saw nothiug iu it that 1 had not seen before. •'I am skilled in the nuanccs of expression," he continued. "Frivolous person as am. 1 claim to be subtle in my art. There is despair in the face of this drawing. but, Gaskell, it is not the despair of guilt it is the despair of innoceuce. I decline to release you from your promise. You retnaiu with me at least, till to-mor-row night. What do yon want?"

The question was addressed to a»waiter, who had entered the room without knocking.

more.

in this is now

hours afterwards, having first made a written declaration of his guilt, which he duly signed in the presence of a clergyman. "On the following morning the town was startled not only by the publication of the news of this confession, but by the mysterious disappearance of Mr. Pardon and Mdlle. Rosalie. They had both been seen the night before by Mrs. Pardon, the lady of the house, Mdlle. Rosalie at about eleven o'clock, and her husbaud at one or two o'clock in the morula g. Her husband was then in his stndy, and by cunning questioning (I myself went to see Mrs. Pardon, at her request, to endeavor to find the missing gentleman)—by cunning questioning, I say, 1 learnt from Mrs. Pardou that when she last saw her husband in his stndy, at that late hour in the night, be appeared to be greatly disturbed in his mind. She ascribed this to his having been completely upset by the .dreadful murder which had taken place in his honse: I did not agree with her. but I did not tell her so. I was greatly put out by Mr. Pardon's disappearance, because lie had offered a large reward for the apprehension of the murderer of Mr. Wilmot, and he had promised mevnotwithstanding that Samuel Fleetwood had voluntarily given himself up. that this reward should be paid. Up to this moment it has net been paid, but I live still in hopes. "Of course the natural conclusion peo ple arrived at was that there was something uot exactly proper between Mr. Pardon and Mdlle. Rosalie—begging your pardon for speaking so of your wife." "Not at all," said Stanmore, blandly **I happen to know the lady." "The natural conclusion, thea, was that those two had run off together,, and that they both were no better than they shonlc be. As I did uot agree with what Mrs Pardon told me about her husband^so now I did not agree with the general verdict pronounced upou the missing pair. However, 1 kept my opinions to myself, tor the reason that I had an idea that the reward offered by Mr. Pardou for the discovery oi the murderer of Mr. Wilmot would ocit day find its way into my pocket. 'Hov is that.' perhaps you will ask. 'when Samuel Fleetwood had confessed to the crime, and the gentleman who offered the reward had disappeared, partly becauwj he wished to save his uiouevf' Well, now, you will thiuk it strange when I tell you that I had my doubts as to the genuineness of Samuel Fleetwood's confession. It seems that ho had given the clergyman a private letter, which he implored should

IK*

conveyed

to his master, and that he ha I placed most extraordinary and unnatural import ance upou the safe delivery of the ftocument. The clergyman informed me that Mr. Pardon had called upou him. in the evening in a state of great agitation, aud said that the letter had not readied his hands. Now, the clcrgymau was positive that he had enclosed it in a packet, containing, besides, a letter from himself and a copy of Samuel Fleetwood's confession, which he had delivered to Mdlie. Rosalie. I kept thinking tor myself, 'What could be this missing letter:'' and I was not at oil satisfied with thiugs as they stooL I was confident that there was a mystery which it might pay me to clear up. Auother circumstance led me to this conclusion. A man of the name of Redwing, who had been taken on by Mr. Pardon lor a few weeks to assist the gardener, had also disappeared. What wus there singular in that? you will ask. Well—begging your pardon again. Mr, Stanmore—I had seen enough to convince me that Mdlle. Rosalie and Redwing were lovers,

caught

them

more than once in Ivy bush Lane kissing and embracing. There was but one conclusion to draw from that. "This, gentlemen, is how matters stood on the day of the disappearance of Mr. Pardon, Mdlle. Rosalie, and Redwing. The first thing to be done _jvfts to track them. "But here I found myself at fault. The fact is I did not feel myself quite justified In spending a large sum of my own money in the search, and it was. I dare say, because of this that I did not succeed. After some time had passed I gave up the idea, and left the force, as I have told you, with the intention of starting business on my own account. "Then came your visit to my comrade. The suspicion of some strange mystery in connection with the murder of Mr. Wilmot revived. You supplied my comrade with funds, and with these funds we set to work. I'll not make my story too long by telling you all about our operations. It will be satisfactory to you to know that we tracked two of the three missing persons—Mdlle. Rosalie and Redwing. She had not gone away with Mr. Pardon: she had gone away with Redwing. They had passed some time on the Continent, in France and Italy, and it was when they returned to England that we got fairly on the scent. From that moment we never let it escape us. We accompanied them everywhere in various disguises we slept In the next room to theirs wherever they put up. We overheard their conversation, and took It down in writing. Putting all we heard intelligibly together, it mukes a strange story. Your divorce is all right, Mr. Stanmore, but there is something much more serious behind all this than you can imagine. Shortly, sir, what we learnt was this. "From the day Mdlle. Rosalie entered Mr. Pardon's service under false colors, she commenced to plot and plan. She tried to inveigle him into making love to her, but she failed. An artful woman, gentlemen, is this Mdlle. Rosalie, otherwise Mrs. Stanmore. They don't make them much artfuller in these days. Failing, she took great pains to entangle him, •o that for her own purposes by and by she might make it appear that he was her lover. The unlucky gentleman was a sleep-walker had been so from childhood, and it was an infirmity he could not cure himself of. Well, one night Mdlle. Rosalie happened to see him in this state. What did she do? Why, slyly slipped her pocknt handkerchief into his pocket and on the next day, when he found it there, he couldn't for the life of him remember how it came upon him. That washer first move. ''Her second move was the introduction of her lover. Redwing, into the temporary service of Mr. Pardon. Only one person knew that she was acquainted with Redwing: that person was Samuel Fleetwood. Correctly divining that Fleetwood had communicated bis suspicions to Mr. Pardon, she sought that gentleman in his garden in the dead of night, and worked so artfully upon his feelings that she

ceeded in 'iosirormg the nnfavorai'i impressions which he had gained N wood's account of Redwing. Sh ifor Mr. Pardon that Redwing w.jh her bro: tier, and he believed her. Chan pin: into her bauds on that nf-r^t Yi iu:^ view, by her contriving, I p! after midnight and in the dark. She deshabille, and she and her master were surprised by Samuel Fleetwood, who

passed them without speaking. Thus, in Fleetwood's eyes, Mr. Pardon was seriously compromised. There are other minor details which I need not mention at present I will come at once to the tragedy of the murder. "There is no doubt that Mdlle. Rosalie Introduced Redwing into Mr. Pardon's house for the purpose of robbery but before the plan they were devising was ripe higher game presented itself. Mr. Wilmot paid a visit, to his nephew, Mr. Pardou. He brought with him a sum of five thousand pounds. Mdlle. Rosalie, always on the watch, ascertained that there was discord between the old gentleman and her master with respect to the marr.age of Miss Pardon, who had fixed her affectum? upon one gentleman, whereas Mr. Wiluiot wished her to favor another. Mdlle. Rosalie and Redwing decided to murder Mr. Wilmot and rob him. To reach the bedchamber of Mr. Wilmot they had to pass through that of Samuel Fleetwood, upon whom they intended to cast the suspicion of the murder if he awoke they resolved to kill him also. In silence the deed was done. The old man was weak, and with swift cruelty he was strangled, and scarce a murmur came from his lips. He could not have screamed if he had tried, because Mdlle. Rosalie's hands were tightly fixed upon his mouth the moment the cord was pulled. There lie lay dead, with the cord round his neck. "They found the keys of the despatchbox in his pocket unlocking it they took out the five thousand pounds, relocked the box, replaced the key in the dead man's pocket, and were about to leave the chamber when they were startled by the sudden uppearance of Mr. Pardon. Certainly the Devil was on their side ou that night, for Mr. Pardou was in one of his sleep-walk-ing trances. Quick as thought they changed their plans, aud resolved tothrow the suspicion of the murder upon him. Mdlle. Rosalie slipped a diamond ring off the murdered gentleman's finger, and slid it into Mr. Pardon's waistcoat-pocket. Then she took the cord from Mr. Wilmot's neck,and glided with it to Mr. Pardon's bedroom. The door was ajar—his wife was asleep. In a moment the cord was slipped under a pillow of a sofa which was in the room. The murderers- reached their own apartments in safety, and bided the issue of events. "Again did the Devil proclaim himself on their side. After they were gone from Mr. Wilmot's room, leaving Mr. Pardon there, Samuel Fleetwood, it appears, awoke, and, seeing his master standing by the murdered man. instantly came to the conclusion that be had committed the murder. The mau was suffering from heart-disease, uud was aware that he had but a short time to live he was deeply, passionately devoted to his mistress- and her young daughter he knew that the arrest of Mr. Pardon would bring incredible misery upon them, and he resolved upon a course which I do not pretend to justify, but which, lid doubt, he justified to himself, and which doubtless many persons will admive. He ilod, and thus the' sus picion of the murder fell upon himself. What afterwards happened to him li have already related, and is public property."

The detective paused, and fixed his eyes upon me. Iu breathless jirmizemcnt and gratitude 1 had followed his words. I innocent—innocent! Once more I eould clasp my beloved wife aud child to my heart! Once more, thank !rod! once more I could kneel by their sides iu prayer, and lift up my voice in thankfulness to the Giver of all Good! In the silence that en sued the terror was lift«» from-my soul, and involuntarily I slid to my knees and lifted my hands to Heaven, while the tears rolled down my face and beard.

They did not in errupt me, bnt allowed the tears to How unchecked. Then, when my passion of gratitude was iu some measure abated, 1 rose to my feet, and said— "i am Richard Pardon f" "I knew it. sir." said tlie detective, "not from your appearance, winch completely deceived me. but from your voice when' you asked Mr. Stanmore whether you should leave us together. It is a true tell tale, the voice a mau may change himself from white to black, but he cannot dis guise his voice. All that I have related to you was gained, at odd times, by me and my partner, from the conversation we overheard between Mdlle. Rosalie und Redwing. Little did they suspect tha' they were pronouncing, bit by bit, theii own death-warraut. He is with her now at the 'Bull and Mouth,' and the handcuffs are in my partner's pockets. I wil' tell you something more, sir. I know where Redwing purchased the cord witt which Mr. Wilmot was strangled. I wil' tell you even something more. They hav# spent the five hundred sovereigns but a this very moment they have upon them the four thousand five hundred pounds in Bank of Eugland notes, which as yet they have been afraid to attempt to pass. have the numbers of these notes iu m) pocket-book here: I obtained them fron the bank at which Mr. Wilmot's cheque was cashed. We have the yet tight round them, sir. The reward you offered is al' right, I supiMJse, sir?" "It slmll be trebled." I said, "and al! the expenses you have been put to repaid.' "That is my affair," said Stanmore "the detectives were engaged upou my business." "Nay," I said, "they were engaged upon mine. Do not argue with me. I am like a man newly risen from the grave."

Indeed, I was trembling bo that they had to assist me into a chair. Presently I said: "I know now, Stanmore, where I saw copies of those sketches which I recognized in your portfolio last night. Your wife had them." "It does not surprise me," said Stanmore. "When sh4 ran away from me with that infamous wretch Redwing she robbed me pretty freely. Heaven have mercy upon her!"

To which I said, "Amen!"

suc­

I could prolong my story, but it would be only repeating what is already known. Bnt little more remains to be told.

Redwing aud Mrs. Stanmore were tried and condemned. He expiated his crime upon the scaffold. She was sentenced to imprisonment for life.

Months have passed since then, and I have recovered my pr i's of mind. My darling wife is by my t, 1 as I write concluding words. Eunice and Harry CianrniKiid arc in i!" garden below. They are soou to be ibarr. 1.

We are in the ^a. ien of England, in Devon, having left Boscombe LotVe for gOO'l: Wi-

Ov,

""•trim to

Htifubii" 1^ 1 «•«.»• pt'd. ^:r r/e d'uvers :r.i ii h'-r

There is more Catarrh in this section of the country than all other diseases put together, and until the last few years was supposed to be incurable, l^or a great many years Doctors pronounced it a local disease, and prescribed local' remedies, and by constantly failing to cure with local treatment, pronounced it incurable. Science has proven catarrh to be a constitutional disease, and therefore constitutional treatment. Hall's Catarrh Cure, manufactured, by F. J. Cheney Jk Co., Toledo, Ohio, is the only constitutional cure on the market. It i» taken internally in doses from 10 jdrope to a teaspoon ful. It acts directly upon the blood and mucus surface of the system. They ofler one hundred dollars for any case it fails to cure. Send for circulars and testimonials. Address, F. J. CHENEY & CO., Toledo, O. jJHT-Sold by druggists, 75c. aS-4

A Boon to Wives.

Having used Mother's Friend, I wculd not be without it. It is a boon to wivew who know they must pass through the painful ordeal of child-birth.

Write The Bradfield Regulator Co., Atlanta, Ga. Sold by J. E. Somes, 6th and Ohio 38~tw.

To Cnre a Bad Co«glk.

Use "Dr. Kilmer's Cough-On re (Consumption Oil). It relieves qniekly, 8tops tickling in the throat. Hacking, Catarrh dropping, Decline, Night-sweat and prevents death fron* eonsunaptto*. Price 2T»c. Pamphlet Free. Binghamton, N. Y. Sold, recommended aad guaranteed by J. A C. Baur.

Bncklen's Arnica Salve.

The BestSalveintheworldforCuts,Bruises. Sores. Ulcers, Salt Rheum, Fever Sores, Tetter, Chapped Hands, Chilblains, Corns, and ail skin eruptions, and positively cures Piles, or no pay required. It Is guaranteed to give perfect satisfaction, or money refunded. 2&c, per box. For sale by Carl Krietenstein, 8. W Cor. -Hli and Ohio.

Cleanse

the System

With that most reliable medicine—P&i&c's Celery Compound. It purities the blood, cures Gonstlpntton, and regulates the liver and kldnoys,etTectoaily cleansing' tlio system of all wast* and dead matter.

Paine's

Celery Compound

combines true nerve tonic and strenjrtlienlnsr qualities, reviving lio energies and spirits. I have been troubled for some yours with a complication of dlfllcultlcs. After trying various remedies, and not finding relief. 1 tried 1'alne's Celery Compound. Before taking one full bottle the long troublesome symptoms be-

?eel

fan to subside, and 1 can truly say now, that I like a new mtuu Digestion has improved, and 1 have gained ten pounds In weight since I have commenced taking the compound."

Honebits Stkauns.

FelclivlUe, Vt.

Jt.00. Six for $.t.00» At Druggists.

Wklis, IUouakdhos

& Co., Burlington. Vt.

ANYONE CAN DYE A

DIAMOND DYES

Dress, or a Coat,) J\ny

Color

Ribbons, Feathers, FOR Yarns, Rags, etc. TEN CENTS

and in many other ways SAVE Money, nnd make thine* look like NEW, by uxinR DIAMOND DYES. The work is easy, simple, quick the colors the BEST and FASTEST known. Ask lop DIAMOND PYKS and take no other. For Gilding or Bronzing Fancy Articles USE

DIAMOND PAINTS.

Gold, Silver, Bronze, Copper. Only to Cents.

Baby Portraits.

*A Portfolioofbcautlftil baby pictures from life, printed on line plate paper by patent photo process, sent free to Mother of any Baby bom within a year.

Every Mother wants theso

§aby's

Also:i

it,

the peril I

Acid Phosphate

M»kM an Iovi«r»nMlnst Drink,

with water and sugar only, Delicious. fa/" ".

ictures send at once. Give name and age.

fWELLS, RICHARD8QN A 00., •URUNOTON, VT.

S

a most cerr wdy cure fop that nrlnW trla, (.hill#

Pilules sre a most cerp tnln aud spci all diseases from Malaria, and Fever, etc. The

ril r\

act directly in the blood,

|^i In 1 permeating the wliole or

1 II II If S

,he

circulation, killing

(he germs that produco fever, torpid llvur, con­

stipation, kidney troubles, sick headache, rheumatism, neuralgia,etc. Tlicy are a

antidote for these com-^ ilalntiK have never ailed tor more than lf» ars. They act like magic on all malarial

Positive 1

sickness, hence they are tht only poidtlve

for all Illood Impurities known. They will purify and dense the xysiem, when everything elso

Cure For Chills 01

has failed and as

and fever, there (and anything produced, ever.) like them

for their wonderful effects. Many hurdreds of thousands of old stubborn cane* have been cured by Moore's Pllulen, which all other rem* dies failed to touch. They area most valUH-f, ble medicine to have on hand*l In the faint yjthey relieve Indigestion, elear the skin, act on the liver at once—hence there in no need of the harmful cathartics. They are worth many limes their cost to any family. Thone who rely on Moore's Pilulesarei|iilckly distinguished by their bright appearance, elastic step, and the healthful glow upon their faces

Moore's Throat and Lung Ioasnge* are a nnwt excellent emedy,— nothing better-for

VMigh*. Colds, Pore Throat, HronHiHIs. Whooping Cough and ail afTeetlons of the throat and che«t. They are pleasant to the taxte, and give Instant relief. Put up In large 10 cent and 25 cent tin boxes— for Irritation of the throat there Is no remedy that begins to compare with them. Both remedies sold by druggists

DRUNKENNESS

Or the Llnaor Ilablt. PasHlrely Car«4 by Admlnl*terln« Ir. Haines Uotdca Hpeclfle. ft run be given In a nip of coffee or tea •iieknowle^-" oftheperson taking I .Uu:utelejr harases*, ana will efteel a i» oent and speedy cure, whether the pai«. a f'^'erate drinker «r an alcoholic

Tli"!S»nd*of drujiniirds have templatem«Miwlv»»i .\etn»r«*n0oid«n i-i-«-.ne in their••'•r*iee v. nin.ut know- ... nd to day U-Jevt,- ttrlt tirtnking rown free will. IT N! KR FA! I

A.

•p ,. rii r,nrr with the Hpeif it k. in ui vftlbtllty for the liquor appetite to exigt t* or*al» by

JAM. E. HOMKK, Druggist,

Cor. Mb and Ohio sta., Terre Haute, Ind.