Pittston Gazette

              Oldest Newspaper in the Wyoming V; lley. JCSTABLI8HEID J850. ' VOL. XLUI. SO. «« f PITTSTON, LUZERNE CO.. PA., FRIDAY. DECEMBER 22, 18!):!. A Weekly Local and Family Journal. \91-v$Z True, he was not actually the culprit. and so even at the worst h« might escape the fallows; but to a man of his sensitive aud affectionate nature the thought of transportation was not pleasant. It was this that made him nervous—this that made him start and tremble at everv sound. sistentlv. "You mind your own business and don't be a fooll" And Inturned testily and gazed at the fire. Hut Matt, whose eyes were full of a curious light, was not to be abashed. proachod the spot of the old encampment. lie saw that the caravan had with her smile there was a kind of vague anxiety and expectation. mean i !DrCl Monk, staggering' as if UNLUCKY BILL NYE. my lutsuut) auu auivcucy. mcu 1 produced well known people of England who were acquainted with me, but they were all noble people whom the cashier did not know. Noble people who are unarmed are never recognized by a cashier even in America. It is alwayB Billy the Kid or Shacknaety Jim, armed to the teeth, who is recognized and who overdraws his account. gone. It wan arranged that Monk should drive Matt in the dog-cart, while William Jones and his father followed in the commoner vehicle. At Pent-roes, where the ceremony was to be performed, they were to meet with one Mr. Penarvon, a country squire and kindred spirit of Monk's, who had promised to be "best man." :i. Mr. Marshall." lie rode on thoughtfully till he gained the highway, when he put hi* horse into a rapid trot. Just before he gained the gate and avenue near to which he had first encountered Brinkley, he saw the caravan before him on the dusty road. n r wen. you see, Mr. mkshurst," continued the it. sir. AS A TRAVELER HE WRITES HE IS A "■k I u "Ain't you well, William Jones?" she Hlk, of A NOT A SUCCESS asked i'.'t"rt ivc. firmly, yet playfully, "you're »*•C*11 "'1 'if making' away with—murtiering, in fact—a young1 gentleman ivho eaine to Aberglyn a few weeks "I'm well enough—I am." "I ts queer, ain't it. that the painter ehap never come home?" And m a Collector of Ca*h on Good Securi- Presently a thought struck him. ty He Is Even Worse Still, but He I* All Right an an Artist. "Where's Matt?" he asked. "Don't know, William dear; she ain't been here for hours and hours. Maybe she's on the shore." "How should I know?" growled William. "Maj-be he's gone back where he come from." lie hesitated for a moment; then hurried rapidly forward, and, arriving close to the vehicle; saw the Irishman's head looking round at him from the driver's seat. He beckoned, and Tin; pulled up. in that little house on wheels; and Monk took the reins, while Matt got in and seated herself beside him, the groom getting up behind, and away they went along the sand-choked road, followed by Jones and his father. i!:is riii-e friend of yours (here he ain"* skipped William Jones on the shoulder) is accused of being your ac- [Copyright, 1883, by EtlKar W. Nye.] In a few days my sovereigns became shillings, and the time came when I did not ride any more in cabs. I slid into a pawnshop one evening with a notion of leaving my watch, but my courage failed me, so I looked over some goods with the air of a purchaser and then gently got out. Indian Summer In London. /I "Maybe she is—I'll go and have a Jook," replied William. "Or maybe he's drownded? Or maybe summat else has happened to him?" suggested Matt. complice Very likely other people have better tuck in traveling than I do, for I never feel sure that I am on the right conveyance except when I am on board an ocean steamer and find my name printed on the passenger list. Even on the road from London to Liverpool four years ago, after I'd been told by a dozen people that there was no change, I found myself at midnight r,0 miles off the road, and would have been 200 if I had not ljeen stopped by the ocean. It must not be supposed for a moment that William Jones had become afflicted with a sudden and tender interest in Matt—he merely wanted to get quit of the cabin, that was all, and he saw In this a reasonable cxcuse for walking out alone. HC? accordingly made his escape- and went wandering off along the shore. "No! nol I never done it! I'm innocent, I am!" cried William Jones. "Tell 'em. Mr. Monk, tell 'em—I'd nowt to do with it!" "Never you mind him, my gal. lie's all right, never fear. And if he ain't it's no affair o' yours, or mine neither. You go along out and play." "Has your master returned? I am informed that he has been missing foi some days." The day was bright and merry, but Matt never thought of the old proverb: Men- ' rWe that the sun shines • examining the '1 at once, [cOHTINUin.] ing clear, Mr. Monk drew him out of the cottage and whispered something in his ear. William Jones turned as white as death and began to tremble all over. •Silence, you fool!" said the other. Then he added, turning on his accusers: "You are a couple of madmen. I think! I know nothing of the young man you speak of. I have heard that he is missing, that is all; but there is no evidence that any harm has come to him. for his body has not been found." "No, sir; sorra sight have I seen o1 him for three days and three nights. I'm going back wid the baste and thC house, to tell his friends the bad news Maj-be it's making fun of me he is and I'll find him somewheres on th* Tim shook his bead very dolefully. One night I went to bed with only fourpence on hand. In the morning the landlord laid my bill down by my plate at breakfast. He called up Tim and sent him on flome trivial errand down to the village. As Boon as he was well out of the way Brinkley entered the caravan, produced some papers from the inner pocket of his coat and locked them up securely in his trunk. Matt went out as directed, and it was some hours before she returned. She found her guardian seated in his old place by the fire, looking at vacancy. lie started violently as she entered and made a clutch at the rude piece of ship's iron which served as a poker. round •-t- "I couldn't do it, sir," he moaned. "Look, ye, now—I couldn't do it!" tered a cry of delight. There, standing in its old place by the lakeside, was the caravan. Meantime I had managed to deposit 6ome New York checks with an exchange, and it had sent a messenger boy with them to New York, I judge, to see if they were good,,so I looked forward to getting The money inside of seven weeks. Yet inside of that time I might lDe in the worklionse, and in that way at least reach America, for many workhouse people and paupers are sent to It was ten o'clock when he returned; he was still pale, and drenched to the skin. The old man was dozing beside the fire, and alone. Monk stamped his foot impatiently; then he turned to his frightened victim: road." Monk looked pale—there was something ghostly in the reappearance even of this inanimate object. He was a man of strong nerve, however, and ho speedily smiled at his own fears. Here Marshall turned with a wink to \\ iIlium Jones and nudged him in the ribs. The guard looked at my ticket and told me I should have changed at Crewe. I had happened to be in the only car- "So far so good," he said. "My amiable friend may not be in an amiable mood, and I don't wish him to get any advantage of me!" "lie it you, Matt? Lor, how you startled me! I were—I were—taking "I hope you wiU," said Monk, sympathetically. "I think — hum —it is quite possible he hkfc, as you- suggest wandered homeward. Good day tC "Listen to me, William Jones. You ought to know by this time that I have both the power and determination to effect my ends. Continue to oppose me and play the fool and all that power shall be used against you. Do you hear? I will ruin you! I will hand yon orer to the authorities as a t] "Where's Matt?' asked William again. a doze. "Don t you think, now," he asked, "it might he worth while looking for it in that little underground parlor of yours, down alongside the sea?" i» "Ain't yon seen her, William dear? Well, she ain't here." "I've been up yonder," said Matt. "Up where?" you." As they approached the spot they saw Tim standing near the vehicle in conversation with two strange gentlemen—one a little man in black broadcloth, the other a tall, broad-shouldered fellow wearing a light overcoat and a wide-awake hat. Directly the procession approached, this group separated, and its three members walked severally to the road, he with the wide-awake hat standing in the center of the road quietly smoking a cigar. He did not even take with him the key of the box, but bavins' attached to it a small piece of paper, on which were some written instructions, he hid it in the caravan and started oft upon his journey. William Jones did look a little uneasy this time, and it is but due to him to confess that his uneasinoss was caused by Matt's prolonged absence. Erratic as she was in her movements she had not been accustomed to staving' out so late, especially on a night when the rain was pouring1, and not a glimmer of star or moon was to be seen. "Up to the painter chap's cart. He ain't come back, and the man is searchin' for him all up and down the So saying. Monk turned off by tin gate which they had just reached, and rode away up the avenue. W illiam Jones uttered a despairing groan, and fell on his knees. Tim looked after him till he disap peared. Then the same curious change came over him which had come ovei Matt after she had been listening tc the colloquy between Monk and William Jones. place." "I'm ruined!" he cried. "O, Mr. Monk, it's your doing! Lord help me! They knows everything." It was a dark, gloomy morning, giving every promise of coming storms. As he passed through the wood which surrounded Monkshursthouse the wind whistled softly among the trees, making a moan like the sound of human voices. Fortunately it was very dark, so that she could not see the expression of her hearer's face. She walked to the fireplace, and, taking a box of lucifers from a ledge, began to procure a light, with the view of igniting the rushlight fixed to the table. But in a moment William blew out the match and snatched the box from lier.« "Curse you, hold your tongue," said Monk, with a look of mad contempt and hatred. "These men are only playing upon your fears, but they cannot frighten me." He laughed! "Wonder what she's a-doin' of?" said William; "suppose I'd best wait up for her. Here, old man, you go to bed, d'ye hear—you ain't wanted anyhow." A BRIDAL PARTY AND A LITTLE StTHPRIS*. CHAPTER XV. As the dog cart came up he held up his hand. Unable to proceed without running him down, Monk pulled up angrily. "No," remarked the detective, lighting his cigar, which had gone out. "I think we shall even manage that in time." "A gloomy place," said Brinkley; "a fit residence for such as he. A dark deed might be committed here, and who would know?" A week passed away. The shadow of the caru\an no longer fell on the green meadow by the lake, and thtr struggling population of Aberglyn, unsuspicious of foul play, had already forgotten both the caravan and tin henry mi (B. Nye, Artist). America from all over Europe and Great Britain, but that would take time, and I would thus miss the arrangements I had made and paid for in advance for my reception in New York when I returned. The old man accordingly went to bed, and William sat up to await Matt's return. He sat beside the hearth, looked into the smoldering fire and listened to the rain as it poured down steadily upon the roof. Occasionally "What are you doin' of?" he cried. "Wasting the matches, as if they cost nowt. You'll come to the workus' afore you're done." "What is it? Why do you block the road?" he cried, fiercely. As he spoke he carelessly, and as if inadvertently, drew out a pair of steel handcuffs, which he looked at refleotively, threw up and caught underhand in the air. The path which he traveled was a neglected carnage drive, strewed witn stones, overgrown with weeds and bordered on either side by the thick trees of the forest. Presently the trees parted and he came in view of the house. The days passed and there was no news of the absent man. Every day Matt went up to the caravan to make inquiries. At last one afternoon she returned, looking greatly troubled; her eyes v/ere red, too, as if she had been crying. "Excuse me, governor," returned the other, coolly. "Mr. Monk, of Monkshurst, I believe?" owner When the landlord laid his bill for the week on my breakfast table, I felt most wretchedly. This is no fancy sketch. It is the truth. I had only fonrpence in my pocket. My bill for five snits of clothes was on my fauteuil up stairs. I resolved to be frank about it, and let the 3onsequences be what they might. "Mr. Herbert," said I, for that was his name, and I always call a man by his right name if I can remember it, "I 3hall have no money until the last of next week. The checks have been sent now over 10 days, and the messenger boy is expected back with the money a week from Saturday. But I cannot pay you nntil then, though I am very sorry." "Oh, I didn't present the bill for payment," said he, "but so that you would see if it was right. You can have £40 or £50 if you like1 any time, sir." And if facts were to be taken int oonsideiation in estimating the e.vtor of her memory. Matt, too, had f. gotten. 11. was common talk now t' "That's my name." "Sorry to trouble you on such a day, but I should like a few words with you." "\ou accuse me of assassination," said Monk, trembling violently. "I warn you to beware, for I will not suffer such accusations without seeking redress. If you have any proof of the truth of your preposterous charge, proluce it." ONLY FOURPENCE OX HAND. A large gloomy-looking building, as neglected as the woodland, in the center at which it stood. It seemed as if only a part of it was inhabited, and the large garden at its back was unprotected by any wall and full of overgrown fruit trees. -.he. the grammarless castav "I cannot stay—I am going to be married!" riage which did not go through to Liver pool without change. The booking office was closed, the lunch shed was also closed, and I could not learn what to do in order to get to Liverpool in time for my steamer, which would start early and promptly at 1 o'clock the same day, it being now past 13. An hour after I heard a train approaching and saw the window of the booking office slowly open. With my heart in my month, I inquired when I could get a train toward Liverpool. The agent said I could not get to Liverpool before 2 o'clock Wednesday, which, it struck me. would be an hour after my steamer had gone, and to run and catch np with a steamer that has an hour the start is discouraging. "What's the matter now?" demanded William, who had left his usual seat and was standing at the door. neglected protege of Willis BRITiKI.EY STRUGGLING IN THE POWER- vas to be married to the trv Creat house! Nay. the very day w»p Jxed; and that very day was only two sunrises distant; and Monk, of Monks hurst, had in his pocket a special license, which he had procured, at an (expenditure of five pounds, from London."So I heard," said the man, lifting his hat and bowing with a grin to Matt. "Glad to see you miss. How do you do? But the fact is, Mr. Monk, my business won't keep. Be good enough to step this way." rui OBIP OF MOJTK. "Nowt," said Matt, wiping her eyelids with the back of her hand. At this moment Matt, looking bright \s sunshine, leaped out of the caravan. cealing the papers which might have proved the identity of the child found washed ashore fifteen years ago! Do you hear?" "Don't you tell no lies. You've heerd snmmat? Stop! What's that there under your arm?" "There's my proof," said Marshall. "Miss Monk, this amiable bridegroom ")f yours denies being concerned in harming Mr. Charles Brinkley. Is he telling the truth?" The door was opened by a grim, elderly woman. He inquired for Mr. Monk, and was informed that he was at home. The next minute he was standing in a lonely library, where the owner of the house was busy writing. Monk rose, and the two stood face to lace. Full of some unaccountable foreboding, inspired partly by the stranger's suave yet determined manner, partly by the reappearance of the caravan. Monk alighted, and followed the other across the grass to the close vicinity of the house on wheels. The little elderly man followed, and the man who had first spoken went through the ceremony of introduction. Mr. Monk evidently knew the nature of the man with whom he had to deal, for. after a little more conversation William Jones, cowering like a frightened child, promised implicit obedience.All at once he had perceived that she carried a large roll of something wrapped in brown paper. He took it from her and opened it nervously. It Dvas the craj-on portrait of herself executed by the defunct artist. Doubtless, in any more populous locality the affair would have occasioned no little scandal, and many ominous shakings of the head, but the inhabitants were few and far between, and had little or no time for idle gossiping. The coast guardsmen and their wives were the only individuals who exhibited any interest, and even their excitement was faint and evanescent, like the movements of a fish in a shallow and unwholesome pool. Matt's face darkened, and she looked at Monk with eyes of cordial detestation."No," she said; "he's lying." "Matt," cried Monk, fiercely, "take "Now, then," said Monk, when he had brought matters to a satisfactory termination, "you will show me this hiding place of yours." "Who gave you this here?" cried William Jones, trembling more than ever. CHAPTER XII. BUBIKDt care!" It is not my purpose to describe the Interview which took place between my hero and'Mr. Monk. Suffice it to say that when the young man again "He's lying," she repeated, not heed ing him. "I see him dcD it with my own two eyes, and I see William Jones helping him and looking on; they thought that no one was nigh, but I was. I was hiding behind them sacks and barrels in the cave." He told me to take the next train—at 1 o'clock—which was then pulling in. I was just going to buy a ticket, but he saw the one I still had, for the guard did not take it up, and told me that I did not need another ticket. This struck me as very generous, for our railroads make a passenger pay for his ignorance by buying another ticket. So with my old ticket I got aboard and reached Liverpool not at 2 p. m., but at 2 a. m., and slept till 9. However, I was so scared for an hour that my scalp turned perfectly white. I had not felt hungry before that. My breakfast had a tinge of melancholy to it. Even the big, fat English chops seemed to be covered with regret, but in five minutes I began on that breakfast like a man who has been locked up in a freight car for eight days between Billings and the Bad Lands. Fifty pounds in gold lay on the clean white tablecloth, and the landlord, with a large L, stood smiling behind my chair and asking if he could bring me up another breakfast. To this William Jones at first objected, but Monk was firm. "Who's her* "Tim." "This is Mr. Monk, sir. Mr. Monk, this gentleman is Mr. Lightwood, of the firm of Lightwood & Lightwoodi solicitors, Chester." "Him as comc looking arter his"master. The painter chap ain't round: and now Tim's goin' away in the cart to tell his friends. And he give me this— my pictur'; he give it to me to keep. His master said I were to have it; and I mean to keep it now he's dead!" emerged from the gloomy shadows of "Who knows," said he, "but there ma£ be other things having reference to the child. I mean to see for myself. Now, William Jones?" " WHERE IB MATT ?" HE JLflKKD. the dwelling there was a curious smile - upon his face, while Mr. Monk, who had followed him to the door, and watched his retreating figure, wore a horrible expression of hatred and fear. No sooner had he disappeared than Monk left the house also, and, following a footpath through the woods, made straight for William Jones' cot- lie got up and went to the door; he could see nothing, but he heard the patter of falling rain, and the low, dreary moan of the troubled sea. But the really extraordinary part of the whole affair was the conduct of Matt herself. Apparently quite cured of her former repugnance to a union with Monk, she made no objection whatever to the performance of the ceremony, and laughed merrily when she was informed that the day was fixed. Monk, in his grim, taciturn way. was jubilant. He came to and fro constantly, and assumed the manners of a lover. Had he been less bent on one particular object, two things might have struck him as curious: (1) That Matt, though she had consented to inarry him, steadfastly refused to wear his ring or accept any other presents; and (2) that she still shrank, with persistent and ill-disguised dislike, from his caresses. . It was now late in the month of August," and the weather was broken by troublous winds and a fretful moon. For several weeks William JoneR. in his mortal terror, had refrained from visiting the cave; he had never set his foot therein, indeed, since the night of the assassination. At last he could bear the suspense no longer. Suppose some one else had discovered this treasure, and robbed 'iim? Suppose some subterranean change had obliterated the landmarks or submerged the cavern! Suppose a thousand dreadful things! Tired of niserablo supposition, William determined, despite his terror, to make »ure. "And you—who the devil are you?" demanded Monk, with his old savagery. "My name is Marshall, Christian name, John, though my friends call me Jack," answered the other, with So William Jones, seeing that resistance would be useless, promised to conduct his friend to the cave, and, after a good deal of hesitation and of continued show of unwillingness on William Jones' part, the two men started off. Monk now felt that the game was almost up, for he was beset on every side, and the very ground seemed opening under his feet. The wretched Jones, in a state bordering on frenzy, remained on his knees, wailing over his ruin. The two strangers, Lightwood and Marshall, looked on as calm hut interested spectators. Matt, having delivered her home-thrust of ac-. susation, stood and gazed into Monk's face with cool defiance. Hour after hour passed, and Matt did not come. William Jones began to doze by the fir»—then he sank into a heavy sleep. William Jones handed back the picture, and seemed relieved, indeed, when it was out of his hands. "Dead?" he muttered, not meeting Matt's eyes, but looking right out to sea. "Who told you he was dead?" I found afterward that I could have saved all my misery if I had gone to the right place, but I have that sort of gift for going to the wrong place and being saluted with a kick in the ribs, which makes me hesitate about traveling, and when I tell my actual experience after I do travel people do not always believe what I say. However, I can give names, dates and numbers of streets in this case. tage. Entering unceremoniously, he He awoke with a start, and found that it was broad daylight. The fire was out, the rain had ceased to fall, and the morning's sun was creeping iD at the windows. H« looked around and saw that he wan still alone. He went into Matt's room—it was empty. She had not returned. Last week I had an engagement for dinner at 7 and concluded to go by the underground road. As we stopped a minute or two in one of the stations, I got out nimbly and bought a Pall Mall magazine. The train was just starting as I got back and into my car. It turned found that worthy seated beside the hearth; without a word, he rushed upon him, seised him by the throat and began pommeling his head upon the walL When they drew near to the cave, William Jones gave a cry and pointed to the sand. Looking down, Monk clearly saw the footprints. They followed them and found that they led right to the mouth of the cave. Matt did not reply, but gazed at William so long and so signi iicantly that the man, conscious of ht*r somtinv. turned and plunged into the darkness of his dwelling. The attack was so sudden that for several minutes William Jones offered no resistance whatever. Indeed, so passive was he, and so violent was the rage of his opponent, that there was every prospect of his head being beaten to a jelly. Presently, however, Monk's fury abating', his unfortunate victim was allowed to pick himself up. lie "It is a plot!" Monk cried, presently, "an infamous plot to ruin me! You have been tampering, I see, with this wild girl, whom you foolishly suppose kin to me by blood. Arrest me, if you please—I shall not take the trouble to ••esist, for I am perfectly innocent in this matter." "It's standing open!" cried William Jones, as he pointed dov#tD with trembling linger. He was now filled with a vague uneasiness. He made up a bit of tire and was about to issue forth again in search of the truant, when all further trouble was saved him—the door opened and Matt herself appeared. An hour later aloud toIci*' him forth. He went to the door, and there was Monk, of Monksiiurst. It was the first time they had mtjt since they parted on the night of the murder. Monk was dressed in a dark summer suit, and looked unusually spick "Follow me!" said Monk, crawling down into the hole. The past week I hare devoted largely to the study of history and the examina- tion of ancient secondhand stoves, ancient armor and other kitchen utensils. As he reached the rocks below he heard a sharp cry, and looking down saw, by the dim light of a candle stuck in the wall, Brinkley struggling helplessly in the powerful grip of Monk. He had been sprung upon from behind, and was helpless through a sort pf garote. Jones followed in terror. She seemed almost as much disturbed as William Jones himself. Her face was very pale, her hair wild, her dress in great disorder. She started on seeing him, then, assuming a devil-maycare look, she lounged in: and span. He added, while they looked at one another as if somewhat puzzled: M "Where's the girl?" he cried, after a whispered colloquy of some minutes. "Matt, where are you?" "As to the girl's relationship with my dead cousin, the very idea is absurd. Where are the proofs of her birthright?" In answer to the call Matt appeared at the door. No sooner did she perceive Monk than she trembled violently and grew very pale. "You're up early, William Jones," she said. airy • impudence. "John Marshall governor, of the detective force." HOSTS TOOK Tire BEIXB. "Here,"' said a quiet voice, b |\  Horrified and trembling, William Jones was rooted to his place. "Yes, I am up early," he replied, gruffly; "'cause why?—'cause I ain't been to bed. And where have you been?—jest you tell me that." Monk turned his eyes and started back in wonder, while William Jones shrieked and fell forward on his face, Standing before them in the sunshine was—the reality or the semblance of— the murdered young man of the caravan!"Come here. Matt," he said, with an insinuating smile. "See! I've brought something for you—something pretty for you to wear." Monk now went pale indeed. But, recovering himself, he cried: "I know neither of you. I warned you that 1 was in haste. What do you want? Out with it!" Suddenly he saw the young man fall backward lifeless, and, with one last gasp, lie perfectly still. Monk stooped oyer him, and looked into his face. "Why—I've been out, of course," returned the girl* defiantly. As he spoke he drew from his waistcoat pocket a small goia ring, sot witn turquoise stones. But Matt still trembled, and shrank away. "O Mr. Monk!" cried William, —is he"— "is he "That won't do, Matt," returned William Jones. "Come, you'll jest tell me where you've been. You ain't been out all night for nothing." The little man now took up the conversation, speaking In a prim businesslike vole?, and occasionally referring to a large note-book which he carried. "lie is dead!" was the reply. "So jnuch the better." [to re continued ] "I don't want it!—I sha'n't wear it," she cried. So late one windy and rainy night he stole forth with his unlit lantern and fought his way in the teeth of half a gale to the familiar place, which he found, however, with some little lifliculty. He was neither superstitious nor imaginative, but throughout the journey he was a prey to nameless terrors. Every gust of wind went through his heart like a knife; every sound of wind or sea made the same heart stop and listen. Only supreme greed and miserly anxiety led him on. Hut at last he gained the cave, within which there was a sound as of clashing legions, clarions shrieking, drums ucating, all the storm ftnd stress of the awful waters clashing on the cliffs without, and boiling with unusual screams through the black slit between the cave and the Devil's Cal- A Surgeon** Nerve. As he spoke, he bent down and searched the young man pockets. His brow blackened, for he did not find what he sought. Then he took the light from the wall, and held it close to Brinkley'seyes. "Mr. Monk, yon are, I am informed, the sole heir male of the late CoL Monk, yourcotwin by the father's side, who was supposed to have died in the year 1862." It is the common belief that a surgeon must possess what is spoken of as an extraordinary good nerve, and you may perhaps doubt if you possess this. At the same time you must Ijear in mind that in the case of a surgeon the coolness or calm ness which is so admirable and necessary in in operation does not imply the possession of any remarkable personal quality, but it is the simplest result of a complete knowledge of what he is doing. It is rather the natural outcome of his accurate familiarity of anatomy and bis daily habit. IN THE TWELFTH CENTURY (B. Nye, Artist). The girl gave him a look, half of defiance, half of curiosity; then she threw herself down, rather than sat, upon a chair "Nonsense, Matt!" said Monk. "Why. it's a ring fit for a lady. Come, let me put it on your linger." I give the royal arms of England from Richard I to Edward ID, showing how mneh improvement has been made in the manufacture of arms since that time. I made the drawing hastily with my new stylographic pen, and so it is a crude affair, but it gives the correct expression on the faces of the lions and shows their manner of walking "edgeways" after a meeting with closed doors. The ins or flatron at the bottom contain* wassail. I threw that in myself and a key to the whole grouping and arrangement of the picture. Sometimes an artist with genius that way can aid the spectator so that at a glance he sees the spirit of tfffe master. NYE AT ins ART WORK. So great seemed her agitation, so deep her dread of him, that she could not stir; so that when he approached, laughing, and caught her round the waist, he slipped the ring on her finger before she could resist. But it only remained there a moment. With a quick, sharp cry, she tore herself free, and, taking the ring off, threw it right away from her upon the sand. Then out, however, to be another carriage, for my umbrella, overcoat and speech were not in the rack where I had left them. "I am tired, I am," she said, "and hungry and cold!" Satisfied that he did not breathe, he climbed up the path and rejoined his trembling companion. They passed out of the place, hurriedly replacing the trap-door, and piled on sand and stones. "Will you te'.l me where you've been, Matt?" cried William Jones, trembling with suspicious alarm. "On the report of hi9 death, his name being included in an official list of officers Killed ana woanaea m action, ana It being understood that he died without lawful issue, you laid claim to the demesne of Monkshurst, in Chelshire, and that of the same name in Anglesea. Your claim was recognized and in 1865 you took pessession." "Ye6, that's true. What then?" At the next station I got out and tried another car in the brief time I had to do it in, but it was not my car, though it looked the same. n BUS HID UPON HIM AND SEIZED HIM BT THE THBOAT. sat and stared before him, while Monk, looking like the evil one himself, glared savagely in his face. " 'Course I will, if you keep quiet," said the girl in a-swer. ' There ain't tell neither ' vnre nwav along to Fancroes when the heavj rain came on, then I lay down behind a haystack and fell asleep, and when' I woke up it was daylight and I come home." I did this all the way to my destination and then gave it tip. I asked an official what to do, for I was in evening dress and a soft cap. He said the quickest way would be to wait there till my train caine around again. Meantime he would wire the guard to search for the goods, while I telegraphed the presiding officer of the dinner that a fatal accident had delayed me. "Yon villain! Yon accursed, treacherous scoundrel!" he said. "Tell me jrhat you've done, or I'll kill you!" But William Joi es was unconscious ot having done a? ything, and he said as mneh, whereup Dn Monk's fury wa» about to rise agai' u "Mr. Monk," cried William Jones, in terror, "look ye now, tell me what'a the matter?" "I mean you to tell me what you have been hiding from me all these years. Something came ashore with that child—something that might lead to her identity, and you have kept it, thinking to realize money upon it, or to have me in your power. What means it? Speak, or I'll strangle you!" "There!" said Monk, with a wild smile on his deadly pale face. "ITf won't trouble either of us again. Come, come!" A trooper would require h very fine nerve to go to a masthead, or a sailor to ride an unmanageable horse across a country, but a sailor's confidence aloft is due more to a matter of habit than to any particular amount C* courago. In saying this, 1 do uot wish to depreciate tbe calmness of the surgeon in the im *f difficulties, but 1 may tell jou quite plainly that if you haven't enough courage to be a surgeon 1 should lDe very much ashamed of you, and you would turn out to be a very poor creature, whatever occupation you might fol low. Still this fact remains, and you may perhaps be interested to hear that I, who have known many good surgeons, have never seeu one who has not |KDssessed a very line courage.—A Surgeon in Longman'? Magazine. And he strode hastily away, followed by William Jones, leaving the young man of the caravan in the subterranean tomb. "Well, have you detained me to hear only what I already knew?" William Jones looked at her steadfastly and long; then, as if satisfied, he turned away. About an hour later he left the hut and walked along the sho'-e straining his eyes seaward. But instead of looking steadfastly at one spot, as his custom was, he paused now and agaiu to goze uneasily about him. At every sound be started and turned pale. In truth, he was becoming a veritable coward—afraid almost of the sound of his own footsteps on the sands. "Pardon me, I have not finished. I have now to inform you that you inherited under a misconception—first, because CoL Monk was married and had issue; second, because he did not die in India, but reached the shores of England, where he perished in the shipwreck of the vessel 'Trinidad'on Christmas day, 1864." The peculiar thing on the tail of the middle lion is a bow of blue ribbon which he has attached to his person in a spirit of badinage and to show how contemptuously total abstinence was treated during the reign of Richard I. dron Trembling, with perspiration standing in great beads on his face, he searched the cave for the corpse of the murdered man, expecting to find it well advanced in decomposition. Strange to say, however, it had disappeared.CHAPTER' XIII. WILLIAM JOKES IS SEIUOUS. I waited all the evening in the cold until my train made its circle and a porter brought me my stuff. That was one of the best speeches 1 ever delivered. I delivered it to a messenger boy who took it to the office of a morning paper while I ate a brace of Welsh rabbits by my lonely self and went home. The two men walked together through the darkness as far as the door of William Jones' hut; then they parted. Mr. Monk struck Across the sand hills towards his own'home, while Jones entered the door of his cabin. The drawing which follows represents Henry VHI reposing on his couch after a hard day's work on the throne. It shows the somewhat crude and unpretentious bed of that period as well as the expression of his nibs while asleep. It is said to be the only portrait of Henry VIII taken while he was asleep. Note the graceful outline of the figure, which is but half concealed by the patchwork bed quilt constructed entirely of neckties and cravats contributed by the king's courtiers. William .Tones was at once relieved and alarmed—relieved because he was spared a horrible experience; alarmed because he could not account for the disappearance. A little reflection, however, suggested that one of those tidal waves so common on the coast might have risen well up into the cavern, washed away the body from its place 011 the shingle and carried it away in the direction of the Caldron. Monk was livid. At this moment Jones, who had been watching the *cene from a distance, came over panting and perspiring in ill-concealed terror.If a note of invitation should come to me today requesting me to dine at Buckingham palace, 1 would stipulate that the royal carriage be sent to my lodgings for me in order to avoid the bitter disappointment which would be felt as it settled down like a pall on the household of her most gracious majesty when it should be learned that I was lost in St. John's Wood. lie would fain have found that cabin empty, for the memory of the last scene in the cave was still upon him, and made him as nervous as a child. But the old man was there, and wide awake, and evidently pleased at his son's return. An I'liconventional Judge. But William Jones was evidently anable to speak,* being perfectly paralyzed with fear. Monk stretched forth his hands to seize him again, when the old man, who had been a horrified spectator of all this, suddenly broke in with: CHAPTER XIV. TBK CARAVAN DISAPPEARS. A famous judjje actually broke off a Dumming up upon oue occasion with, "Mr. Sheriff, I should like to know what that Cat man means by pressing against those two young women in the front row of the gallery." On another occasion the same judge, during the examination of a witness, exclaimed, "Really, Mr. Foreman, I am exhausted, worn out, with the outrageous conduct of that witness in the box, whu among other profanities keeps on saying that what he deposes to is 'as sure as GoCi made apples!' "—Green Bag. "Lor5, Mr. Monk, what is the matter? Look ye now, we shall be late for the wedding." Several days passed away, during which William Jones showed a strange and significant affection for his own fireside. lie went out a little in the sunlight; but directly night came he locked and barricaded the door as if against thieves, and declined, on any inducement, to cross the threshold. Even had a three-decker gone ashore in the neighborhood he would have thought twice before issuing forth into the dreaded darkness. As he spoke, Marshall, the detective, clapped him playfully on the shoulder. "Where have you been, William, dear?" said he. The question was innocent enough in itself, but it was full of hidden meaning for William J ones. "Look ye. now, I know there was tummat. It were aleetle book, stuffed in the front of her frock!" "who gave you this here!" cried "How d'ye do, William .Tones? I've often beard of you, and wished to know you. rray stop wucnj you «*ie. i u talk to you presently." WILLIAM .JONT.S. "In which cane," he reflected, "them coast guard chaps would find it some lay among the rocks or on the shore and think it had been drowned in the way of natur'." The third drawing shows in the crudest manner (for I am not an artist and often err even in the simplest principles of art and have on hand three oil paintings now supposed to be by Rembrandt winch were done by a painter and grainer from Manchester)—in the crudest manner, I repeat, this drawing shows the ecclesiastical costumes of the twelfth century. The drawing is merely an outline and needs shading and finishing up to give the correct idea, yet the study is made on the spot from a painting of that period. * with a wild gesture of fear and loathing. she rushed into the cottage. have a copyright on is my failure to get money when I run short. Another annoyance which I seem to "A book!" returned Monk, eagerly; "and what did you do with it? Tell me that, you old fool! Did you burn it?" "Where have 1 been?" he repeated; "at work, to be sure!" "I don't know what you mean," Monk now said, with dogged desperation, "with all this rigmarole, Mr. Lightwood, or whatever your name is. It seems to me you are simply raving. If I am not my cousin's heir, who is, tell roe that?" William Jones walked over and picked up the ring, while Monk stood scowling darkly after the fugitive. In Paris once I used up my letter of credit sooner than I had expected to do and asked the bank where I had drawn my money before to draw by cable on my home bank. It was done before 1 "Burn it?" exclaimed the other. "No, mister, we don't burn nothin', William And me. You know where you put it, William, dear. «In the old place." The tone of his reply startled the old man. fie looked up, and saw to his amazement that William was as white as a ghost, and trembling violently. "What's the matter. William, dear?" ne askea, eageriy. nave you seen a wr*jck, my son?" Satisfied that everything else was undisturbed, he retired as hastily as possible, sealed up the entrance to the cavern a nd ran hastily home. Postal Clerk!) Watcl.ed. "What the devil ails the girl?" cried the latter, with a fierce oath, pocketing the present. All postoftice buildingsareprovided witb peepholes through which clerks may be watched while at work. Out of 15,000,000 registered missives and packages transmitted annually through t he United States mail less than 300 are stolen by dishonest postal officials.—Washington Star. For William Jones was genuinely afraid; his hereditary calm of mind was shaken, not so much with horror at a murderous deed, a* with consternation that his life-iong secret had been discovered by one man, and might, sooner or later, be discovered by others. He did not put implicit faith even in Monk; it was his nature to trust nobody where money was con- "Then corse you for an avaricious old devil," thundered Monk. "The book has been stolen—do you hear?— stolen by that young painter!" The morning of the marriage came— a line sunny morning. An open dogcart belonging to Monk, and driven by one of his servants, stood at William Jones' door, and close to it a light country cart, borrowed by William Jones himself from a neighboring farmer. The population, consisting of an aged coast guardsman, two coast guardsmens' wives and half a dozen dejected children, crowded in front of the cottage. "Hisdaughter," said the man,quietly. "He never married, and he never had a daughter." "Dunno. She's never been the same since—since the painter chap went missing. I'm afeered he turned the gal's head." had time to feel the pangs of hunger In a great city and among strangers. But wheu I noticed here that I was getting down to where I (lid not have sovereigns enough for a quorum I went to the bank where f had been doing business and stated the case. The cashier 3hook his head and said, "We cash Brown Bros.' letters of credit, but we don't supply needy Americans with pocket money on short notice, especially when American banks, as at present, can hardly trust each other. "No, I ain't," responded his son, ly; violent "and look ye now, old 'un, you jest be quiet, and let me alone, that's all!" "His daughter, an infant twelve or fourteen months old, sailed to England with him, was shipwrecked with him, but saved by a special Providence, and has since been living in this place under the name of Matt Jones." He coold say no more; the effect of his words upon William Jones was •leetrical. He gave one wild shriek, and began tearing his hair. It now became his turn to moan and rave, and for some time nothing coherent could be got from him. "He'll turn no more •heads," muttered Monk under his breath. He Wore Them Out. added aloud and with decision: "There must be an end to this. She must He married to me at once." Before the night session began the senate had adjourned, says Kate Foote and several senators were getting their hats in the cloak room, Mr. Stewart among them, when one of his fellow senators said, "Stewart, you remind me of a clergyman." Mr. Stewart naturally stared, and then laughed and said, "How, pray?" "Yes, yon are like a certain minister who was telling a friend that he had preached two hours and a half. 'Were you not very tired?'said the friend sympathetically. 'No, no, I was as fresh as a rose, but you should have seen the congregation.'"—Argonaut. All of my drawings are made direct from life or from the old masters. The old man, knowing his son's tamper, did as he was told, and William continued to potter aimlessly about the room. He was certainly trembling very much, and was almost overcome with a nervousness for which he himself could not account. For he was no coward. To get possession of a prize on the high seas he would have faced a storm which might well make brave men tremble, not to mention that he knew that he had on more than one occasion humanely hastened the end Df the shipwrecked sailors whom h«j Jiad found and pillaged on the shore. After these acts he had been able to sleep the sleep of virtue without being haunted by dead men's eyes. But now the case was different. He had not to deal with a victim without friends, a man whose body, described as that of a "shipwrecked mariner," could be buried and forgotten without more ado. In all probability there would this time be a hue and cry, and William Jones trembled lest his share in the ghastly business might ultimately be discovered. cernecl As to returning back to the care until he had quite recovered his equanimity, that was out of the question. Even by daylight he avoided the spot with a holy horror. Only in his dreams, which were dark and troubled, did he visit it—to see the face of the murdered iran in the darkness, and the hand of the murdered man pointing at him with cold, decaying finger. "Do you mean it. master? Wlven you spoke on it fust I thought you was joking.""Your intended bride, you know," added Marshall, with an insinuating smile. "Hullo, where Is the young lady?" At length, however, Monk gathered that there was some secret hiding placa which Brinkley had discovered. "Then you w»re a fool for your pains. She's old enough and bold enough and vixenish enough; but I'll tame her. I tell you there must be no delay. My mind's made up, and I'll wait no longer." j The bridegroom, attired in decent black, witjh a flower in his buttonhole, stood waiting impatiently in the garden. Despite the festive occasion he had a glopmy and hang-dog appear) ance. Presently there emerged from the door fVilliam Jones, attired in a drowned seaman's suit several sizes too large for him, and wearing a chimney-pot hit and a white rosette. Leaning on his arm was Matt, dressed in a dress.of blue silk, newly made for her, out of damaged materials supplied by Jones, by one of the coast-guard women, a light straw hat with blue ribbons to match, and a light lace shawl. Hehind this pair hobbled William Joneis' father, whose costume was nautical, like his son's, but more damaged, and who also sported a chimneypot hat aifd a white rosette. The croivd gave a feeble cheer. Matt looked around and smiled, but minded Decided. Monk looked round towards the dogcart and on every side, but Matt was nowhere to be seen. Quean Margherita of Italy is a happy woman, in that she is so well beloved not only by her people, bnt by her husband, the king. She has long been known as one of the beauties of Europe, but she has now begun to realize the flight of time, and recently said to her husband, with some wistfulness: "1 thought his poking and prying meant summat," moaned William Jones. "I fancied, too, I seen marks i' the s«nd, bnt I never conld find no one near, and I thought they was my own mar its. Ub, wbat wuu come tome! iu ruined!" "1 see her go into that tlieer cart," said William Jones. "Why," said he, "I am told that many of your banks never tiave over $50,000 w even less, While boyai. arms of fno-1 bank here is land (B. Nye, Artist), rather inferior that does not carry a capital of £1,000,000 and from that np." Sinking their voices they continued to talk together for some time. Now Matt was crouching close to the threshold. and had heard every word of the above conversation, and much that followed it. When Monk walked away and disappeared, leaving William Jones ruminant at the broken gate, she suddenly reappeared. Curiously enough all her excitement had departed. Instead of weeping or protesting, she looked at William Jones—and lausrhed. "Call her!" cried Monk. "I'll stay no onger bC re Listen to me. you two. The day after the murder he had been greatly unsettled by a visit from Tim Litiney, who demanded news of his master and said that he had not returned to the caravan all night. Tim seemed greatly troubled, but gave vent to no very violent ebullitions of grief. When he was done Matt sat by the fireside and looked long and keenly at William Jones. ♦ —»VD i\r "Curse your foUyt" exclaimed Monk, ••you've brought it all on yourself by your own greed, and yon don't deserve I should help yon; bnt I will help you! Listen then! It Is clear that this young mm has possessed himself somehow of your secret and mine. Bnt from what he has said to me, I fancy he has not as yet divulged it to a single soul. He is the only human being we have to fear. We must enwse to fear him. Do you understand?" lies, that girl Is going to become my wife—I have her guardian's consent, and she herself. I may tell you, fully appreciates the honor I am doing her." Cause For Thanks. "I am too old to wear white gown* any longer." The Spartan mother was pale and resolute. Her hand trembled as it rested upon the armored shoulder of her only son about to go forth to battle, her red lips were set sternly and her eyes were dry. The king did not contradict her, but smiled and said, "Let us take a fort* night to think over the matter." "Indeed!" said Mr. Lightwood, smiling. "Unfortunately, I, as Miss Monk's legal adviser, must have a say in the matter. Doubtless this marriage would be a very pretty arrangement for keeping the late Col. Monk's fortune and property in your possession, but I cannot conscientiously approve of the young lady's marriage to an assassin." "An assassin?—what—what do vou He then wont on about his business, (hoveling gold into the hopper of a pair Df grocer's scales with a copper scoop as ie would 8ugar or salt. At the end of that time came a large packing case filled with white dresses of eyery description and of the ntmoet elegance. The case was addressed to the queen and, prettiest of all compliments. It contained a card bearing the words: "The king's decision,"—Youth s Com* panian. m "What are you staring at?" cried he, fidgeting uneasily under her gaze. "Nowt," said Matt; "I were only wondering"— - "My boy," she said solemnly, "come back with your shield or upon it. and thank your lucky stars it's only war, and not football." Monk had left his horse at the coastguard station. Remounting, he rode rapidly away through the sand hills in the direction of the lake. As he ap- I did not discuss the case with him, Dut tried other banks, probably 55 or 60 }f them. I ottered to deposit New York jhecks and then pay for a cablegram re- No, William Jones did not nndergtfnd; so, in order to piake his mean- "Then don't go wondering," exclaimed the tfood man. rather incon- With her benison then he departed.— P»ck rr -