Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 26, Number 33, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 8 February 1896 — Page 6

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I held stoutly to my point, consoious of the reotltude of my motives, and in the end, as I meant him to do, Jaok gave way. A train was looked up hastily, and we found that Buckitone was not more than two hours' journey down the Great Northern

line,

The

whole

ft,

fTheSix=Pointed Star.

CHAPTER XIY. NEMESIS.

"There is one thing I should like to know," I observed, meekly, when Jack paused at last, "and that is, why you kept your wrist covered up all the time you were here." "Because I did not wish to precipitate «vents," was the answer. "I knew that, of course, you would recognize the star, or think you did, at all events, and ask questions which I should be unable to satisfy. Had it not been for Edmond's earnest entreaties, I think I should have taken you into my confidence long ago, but it was his seoret more than mine, and I felt bound to respect it." "And now, Minnie, it is your turn," some one said, and then I began the story of my detention on the house-boat. But I was not destined to proceed far. Just as I was describing my sensations on awaking to find myself in the cabin of a ship, a sudden din arose in the street outside. "What a noise those wretched newspaper boys do make," interposed mother, "I can scarcely hear what you are saying, Minnie, for their shouting." "What are they calling?" said Lesbia, going to the window. "It appears to be something unusually exciting. Yes— •Shocking Railway Accident. Twelve people killed.'" "Horrible!" I said, with a shudder. "Iam thankful that no one I know is travelling to-day."

My thankfulness was piemature the words had not left my lips before the knocker sounded a rattat, and a yellow envelope was brought in by Jane, "A

tallergram for you, jjHss Minnie," she said, putting it Into my hand. I took it, wondering rather, out thinking It was probably from my employers in the city, who sometimes communicated -with me thus. On opening it I read:— •George Hotel, Bucktotone. Will ybu come and see me? I am alone and dying, and I have something to tell you. Please stop Norah at Euston, 4*80, and bring her with you. Philip Calder.'"

I felt my faoe going white, and the paper fell out of my trembling hand. Philip Calder dying! Dying! "Minnie, what is it?" they oalled out in alarm. I picked up the telegram and handed It to my lover. "Philip Calder?" he eohoed, with a puzzled look, his brow contracting in a frown. "Who may Philip Calder be?" "Philip Calder," I answered, trying to speak carelessly, "is the—man—who detained me on the house-boat. I must fetch Norah—the old servant—at' once, and take her to Buckstone."

By M. F. Baly,

Author of "A Little Mistake," "An Artful Little Game," "The Van--•"-rJ As -ishing Gods," &c. [Copyrighted, 1895, by M. F. Baly.] ,-

"Minnie, are you mad?" was the simultaneous ory of both mother and Jack. "Not at all. But the poor man is alone and dying—Norah Isold and weak. You would go to your greatest enemy if be were dying and asked fo,r you, would you not?" "That is different," answered Jaok, decidedly. "An open enemy I should know, but this man—I do not know whether he be friend or foe." "What is the use of arguing?" interrupted mother. "Of course she will not go. She will not put herself into such a false position. Besides, it is only another trick to get her away from us. The man is not dying at all." "Mother, I am sure you are wrong. I feel certain that Phil-Mr. Calder would not haye sent suoh a message if it had not been true." "You seem to know a great deal about this Philfp Calder," said Jaok, gravely. And roused by his words I summoned all my wonted oommon sense, to my aid, and took things with a high hand. "Now, you dear creatures," I said, briskly, "don't go making mountains out of molehills, and fanoying things whioh have no existence. What has happened I know not, but of course I mean to go to see Mr. Calder, and equally of course I mean Jaok to go with me, so if it turns out to be another attempt to captur® me, he will be there to protect me, you see."

so that we should

easily get back to town that night. But first of all we went to Euston, where we found Norah just about to step into the Irish mail on the first stage of her homeward journey. I did not dara to tell her all the truth, that her master was dying, but I am sure she guessed from my manner that something was very wrong. And she knew that Philip would not •top her Journey for any trivial reason. "I call it oonfounded Impertinence, you know," said Jaok, when we were in the Buckstone train, and •peaking in a low tone to avoid hurting poor Norah's feeling. "By log or not dying, I oannot see what this man wanted to send for you for. He ought to be sabamed to look you In the faoe, after detaining you against your will away from all your friends." "He says he has something to tell me,11 answered. "Have you any Ideawhat it can be?" "Not the slightest." "We were rather silent after this, each being Immersed in thought. As for me, I could not get out of my head the remembrance of that tall, noble-looking figure standing In the sunshine watohing us go through the park—was it only that morning? And now, dying! It was almost beyond belief. My head felt quit© daxed with the suddenness of the news. It was a decided relief when the train stopped at last at Buckstone

station seemed in confusion.

Porters were rushing hither and thither, people were giving contradictory orders, and the usual business was entirely suspended. "Matter, sir?" said a passing porter, In answer to

Jack's query. "Matter enough.

A h'accldent's the matter, that' what it is. as you will see If you your eyes."

And he pointed to Mid reridilns of train which was being gradually got'

Philip Calder notloed the cold tones, and again he flushed. "Ah, yes, I forgot. You are thinking of my impertinenoe In sending for Miss Trevor after what has passed. Well, I have a confession to make: I could not

Here an exolamatlon of pain broke from him, and Norah, who had entered quietly some time before, came hastily forward with a glass In her hand. The patient drank feverishly. "I do not want to die until I have told yon," he said. "Wo, no, do not talk rest now, and tell me later on." "There will be no later on for me I must tell you now or never. The dootor tells me that It Is but a question of a few hours at moat. Do not ory. I oannot bear that. I am not worth a single tear. This Is better than leading a hunted life, anyway." "Ah, you will not pity me when you know all," he oontinued, after a short pause to recover breath. "I was a coward. I told you a He yesterday, Miss Trevor, when you asked me a certain question, believing you would be happier In ignoranoe of the truth. But you showed me such kindness inoreditlng the honesBy of my motives—as God knows I have thought them myself—in what I have tried to do for my oountry, that I oannot die before I have oonfessed to you that lie. This morning, when I was left to myself, after the dootor had pronounced my death-warranty I began to think of matty things, and to doubt, If, after all, the means I have used for Ireland's freedom have been right and just ones. To wonder whether this accident may not bo—nay, more, I feel It Is—God's Indirect vengenoe for my share In that night's work at Wayborough." "What!" thundered Jaok, forgetting the dying man in his sudden and righteous wrath. "You!—you were one of those—those Yiilians who murdered my sister, and mere than murdered my poor brother? Just heaven! "Bush, hush," cried Norah, In a fierce whisper, pushing Jack baok from the bed as she lifted up her boy's head on to her loving breast. "Have you no decency, sir, that you Insult a dying man thus?" "They had no mercy," muttered Jack, sullenly, drawing baok, nevertheless, half ashamed of his violence. I slipped my hand within his arm, and then turned to Philip Calder. "I do not believe you," I cried. "If you had been one of those men I should have recognised you. Or**—seeing a slight smile pass over his faoe—"what

to a siding, its carriages smashed almost into matchwood. "Anyone killed?" "Killed Lor bless you, yes—lots And with this information, cheerfully Imparted, the porter proceeded on his way.

The George Hotel was in a similar state of commotion. We managed to capture a waiter and ask for Mr. Calder's room. "Mr. Calder? Oh, he's a gentleman, Is he? We thought he must be a game keeper, from hiB olothes. Ah, Mr. Cal der's one of the fatally Injured. No. 27, his room is. Might you be some of his relatives, now? The pore gent ain't got lopjj to live, I fear. This way, please, sir." "I was obliged to support Norah up the stairs, her poor weak legs almost refusing to do their work under this fresh shock. I think, up to the moment of the waiter blurting out the fatal truth she had been buoying herself up with the. seoret hope that gef gloomy forebod ings had no foundation in faet. But when we arrived outside the bedroom door, the instincts of the born nurse came to her aid, and she determined not to give way before her darling. She signed to us to pass in first, while she waited outside to reoover herself.

There on the bed lay the maimed form of the man whom I had so lately seen radlent in health and strength. Gone were the black patch and the stubbly beard—lost, no doubt, in the smash—and the noble head lay high on its pillows undisftgured by disguise and untouched by wounds.

The patient woke out of a half-doze as we went on his white face brightened at the sight of me, and I was welcomed with a faint smile. ''You have oome to see the lastof me?" he whispered. "The judgment you predicted has not tarried long, you see."

Then he oaught sight of Jaok, standing behind me, and a deep flush came into the pale cheeks, 'if |E "Are the shadows of death bringing phantoms to mock me?" he murmured, "or has Edmond Dalton really oome to watch my death-bed sufferings?" "That is not Edmond Dalton," I exclaimed. "Poor Edmond Is dead. This is John Dymocke, Edmond's only brother?" US 1 "What does he want here—has he oome to reproach me? I was not his brother's keeper. I could not hinder the crime." "He came to take care of me. He is— my dearest friend," I answered, blushing, and drawing Jack forward.

The two men eyed each other distrustfully, somewhat in the manner of two dogs, uncertain whether or not they will fight. If it had not been for the sadness of the surroundings the situation would ave had Its co^^e-^-aglg^dy mlniature.|^^^® ggjSj

Philip Calder was the first to brealc the silence. "Is that so?" be said quickly. Then, after a scarcely perceptible pause, he he added, "You are fortunate, Mr. Dymooke, is possessing the love of a good and true woman." "I am perfectly aware of that, sir," said Jaok, haughtily, but restraining himself, I could see, in deference to the other's state. He could not get over what he oalled the man's overwhelming presumption In sending for me. ag,

do you mean? Was my dream not a true one, after all?" "True enough, in all salient points. But I all alone doubted your ability to recognize us, as you maintained. I told you a lie when I taid yesterday that I was not one of those men—that is my confession—and, as I told you, I watched your face and saw you bad no doubt of my word. You deBdribed'the third man in your dream as tall, with close-cropped hair, aquiline nose and short bbard, and as wearing blue spectacles. That description was true of me—at the time. My hair I have allowed to grow—it curls naturally, but bad not a ohance when I kept it so short the short beard has been removed as well as the speotaoles, and the result is that I look a different person. It is the same with the man whom you heard oalled Bill. I doubt if you would have recognized him, even without the red wig as 'Detective Coylen.' Ah, I see you would not. Why did we fear you, theu Because of the real murderer, Mike we knew you could not mistake htm,"^ "Enough," interrupted Jack, sternly. "Are you not ashamed, sir, to lie there in what is perhaps your last moments, boasting of your crimes? When you know, too, that only your condition shields'you from being handed over at once to the police?" '"Have mercy, Jack," I whispered. "I am sure he is penitent." "You mistake me greatly," oontinued the dying man. "I never boasted of that dastardly crime. Hundreds of times have I dreamt of It—that dead girl's face haunted me for many a long day. If it had rested (with me alone should have given that brute Mike up to justloe at once, but to do so would have, brought all our plahS to naught. It was a question of the avenging of One girl's death against a whole nation's wrongs, and we let the latter gain the day. "All my plans for the freedom of my country have proven abortive," he oon. tinned, restlessly.

Once more I- thought as I looked on that noble wreok of a man. "The pity of it—ah, the pity of it!" "You have your revenge now for your brother's and sister's deaths," said Philip presently, turning to Jaok. "With my death, and the other two fast in prison, you ought to be satisfied at last." 'I have no desire for revenge," said Jack, gravely. "I left all that behind me on Edmond's death-bed.'Your condemnation and that of the actual murderer, is in other Hands than mihe." "And yoU"—the weak voice was fast failing new—"you will stay with me to the last? You will not desert me—in pity?"

I looked to Jack for the answer to this and he nodded, and I stayed—stayed until with head pillowed on Norah's faithful breast, and with hand olasped in mine, the failing breath grew gradually slower and slower, and then finally stopped altogether. All was ended now all good—4II bad—all mistakes—in Philip Calder's short life. And that in his nature the bad outweighed the good, who shall presume to say?

We caught the last train baok to town, and when we were seated alone In, a first class carriage, Jack took me in hiis arms and kissed me silently. Presently, when I began to sob, he lifted my head between his two hands and looked me straight in the eyes. "Minnie," he said, "it is not possible you cared for this man? No, no, I insult you by such a thought." "I am crying for what ought to have been a noble life—spoilt. I cannot help it. That man, with his grand physique, his splendid intellect, might have been —anything, and he has ended—thus."

And then I returned John's kiss, dumbly thankful that here was no hunted life, no miserable hide and seek with justice—thankful, too, for this great love given me, a very tower of strength on whioh to lean, and between which and me poor Philip Calder could not intrude* And so there was peace between my lover and me—a lifelong peaoe.

Norah had refused to acoompany us baok to town, remaining with her boy until the last sad rites were over. When the appointed day for the funeral came, Jack and Norah and I followed the oorpBe to the grave, the only mourners. No one but ourselves knew who Philip Calder really was—Jacltt had agreed to keep the secret now that no good could be effected by revealing it. Then Norah went home with us, but no entreaties availed to keep her in England. Her master's legacy left her independent, and she returned to her beloved Ireland, there to linger out her remaining days in lamenting for her dead boy.

One more soene, and I have done, for It is the last aot in the tragedy. I am once again In Wayborough Assize Court, and two of the phantoms of that fateful dream of mine are present in the flesh. But this time it is broad daylight, and it Is the sun instead of the moon wbicjt) sends its ray through the long window behind the judge's throne. The court is no longer empty, but filled to overflowing with ourious and eager spectators, and in the prisoners' dook stand two men with haggard, anxious faces, well guarded in the rear by half a dozen prison warders. For these are the Wayborough Autumn Assizes, and Susie Dal ton's murderer and the man named Bill are being tried for their lives.

I look at Mike's well-remembered face, the oold, cruel-looking eyes, the seam of the wound across the oheek and nose Philip Calder was right, there was no possibility of my mistaking that faoe. The other man, Bill, I could not have sworn to, he looked so different without his board.

As I look on the two faces, the whole scene of that long-past night seems to re enact itself before me, and I turn shudderlngly aside. Edmond Dalton's (as I must still call him) deathbed deposition has just been read, and there is a visible stir among the spectators as they oast looks of horror and repulsion on those two haggard faces In the dock. Then "Mary Dymocke" is oalled, and I start up trembling. "Courage," whispered my husband in my ear "it will soon be over."

I tell the story ef my dreem in a fairly collected manner, painfully consoious as I am all the time of the eyes of the pris oners fixed upon me. There was really no reason for my evldenoe at all, exeept

TERRE HAUTE .SATURDAY EVENING MAIL, FEBRUARY S, 1896.

to make assurance of oonviotion doubly sure, the informer's evidence being only from hearsay, and Edmond Dalton be ing dead. As 1 step down from the witness box at last I hear the name of Wil liam Beele being called, and then hoaree voice interrupts the court, compelling the murmuring ^blspers around to instant silence. £,• "No need, my lord, to call any more witnesses. When a dream npeaks up to haug a man, and a hopeless Idiot adds his voice from the grave, why, it gives a cove no chance. I plead guilty."

It is Mike who is speaking. He stands In front of the dock, steadying himself with trembling band olutohing the railing, the beads of perspiration standing on

hiB

forehead as he moistens his dry

lips with his tongue to help him jerk out the words. There is not much to be done after that. The judge goes through the form oi sum tiding up, and tho jury without leaving the box, return a verdict of "Guilty of murder" against Michael Bbnbotf, and of being an "accomplice after the fact" against the other man, William O'Brien. The latter is sen ten oed first, and gets twenty years' penal servi tude. But I do not wait to hear the final judgment pronounced—the awful death sentence. I escape Into thef open air with iiiy husband. "Thank Heaven, that Is over!" I cry* gaspii for breath as-I clasp his arm. "If love me, Jack, never let me bear the words, 'Wayborough Tragedy,^ again, as long as I live."

And until, years afterwards, I was induced to write the foregoing account of those strange events, he never did. [THE END."]

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