Pittston Gazette

              M ESTABLISHED 1850. » VOL. X LI II. NO. »7. » Oldest Newspaper in the Wyoming Valley. PITTSTON, LUZERNE CO., PA., FRIDAY, MAY 18, 1894. A Weekly Local and Family Journal. THE OlD MILL MYSTERY, getting- hor hat and*shawl went aftiD» him in order to try and console him. She did not overtaloe him before he reached his cottage, and when she went in he was sitting woe-befi-one and miserable, with his huad resting on his arms, which were stretched out before him on the table. "'Deed and she's not." answered the woman.'' She's away, and she'll not bo hack till after Whitsuntide.'' "That's about It, sir, as near as i can " said the man from without "And I pushed it like this," and he showed the others what he had done. having- pone away. She herself had urped him to po and see Mr. Coode at the mill and she asked herself with fear and tremblinp whether he had pone there; and if so what had passed between the two? Despite her utmost efforts she could not keep away that cold feelinp at the heart which seemed to chill her blood, at the recollection of the wild words she had heard him utter about Mr.. Coode and those who had wronped him about the money. him apain for sparinp her the need ot speakinp about the discovery at once. his, but they did not fit. Then the old lady brought hers out, but they didn't help him. .NYE AND SAM .TONES. coram' "Thank you. I happened to be p;iss ♦tip. and, seeinp a lipht, I thoupht I would ask her question. That's all. Good nipht." "You will tell ine all that happens, or that you hear?" she said, as they separated at the door; and he promised. "That's stranpe," said Gorringo, look- Inp very thoughtful. BILL TELLS WHY THE MAN WITH A MESSAGE ALWAYS HAS A HEARING. It was a long time before he succeeded In mailing them bring out the family Bible with large print, but at last they lid so. He looked slowly through it for a suitable chapter, keeping his eye out for the family record. When he found the place for it, he turned cold to the snds of his toes, for it had been torn out. She closed the door of the cottape and locked it, as soon as he had pone, and went straipht back into the parlor to carry out her plan. She did not stop to think, "but took the parcel from its place immediately, and poinp Into the kitchen thrust it, without unfoldinp the paper, into the middle of the fire prate, and watched the flames as they consumed the paper. By Arthur W. Marchmont, B. A. The news was a little relief to Mary. Wherever Tom mipht be.it was certain he was not—but she chided herself for even harboring such a thoupht, and left it unexpressed. "Why stranpe?" he echoed, turning and lookinp hard at the doctor. "Why, because I thoupht that door would shut of itself. That's all." "Why stranee?" said the doctor. Mary laid her hand on his shoulder, and called him by name. He raised his face, all haggard and worn and miserable. Eloquent I'rofossor Swing of Chicago—Story of One raClClock. Who Got the Family Bi- Author ok "Mi«kr Hoadlky's Secret," "Madaunk Powkk," "By Whos® ble and Thcii Got Left—The Peculiar Sen- tone** of a J nClge. Hand." "Isa," &c., &c. "They've beaten me, Mary. I don't know how they've done it, but they've got the 'proofs of my having robbed them, and I swear to Heaven I'm as in nocent as a youngster. They've turnec me out of the mill, and ordered me to leave the village, or else they'll prosecute me. It makes me mad to think ol it." She hurried on to Tom's cottape; nnd found it all in darkness. At first she did not like to knock, but her anxiety overcame all her other feclinp.s and she went up to the door. It was unlocked, however, and pushing it "Don't see that it matters very much, Mr. (Jorrinpe," said the police inspector, lookinp very profound. Then she thoupht of the book she held in her hand—a larpe album. Chancinp to open it she turned the leaf where were the photopraphs of Tom and herself. All the circumstances of the time when it had been taken flashed ir»to her memory. She closed the book with a sigh deeper than ever, and fastening the clasp carried the album to the shelf on which it always rested. He read a chapter, but his heart was not in it, and if ever a hollow mockery 3f a prayer was constructed very likely Paddock did it on that occasion. He went home the next day and hired out m a farm at $13 per month and found. From politics the conversation gradually drifted into discussion of courts ind justice as it is generally ladled out in our glorious republic. Mr. Hawley 9mith thee told of a long trial in his state where a prominent embezzler who stood high in felonious circles was indicted on 27 counts, having been busily robbing the bank and the depositors, widows and orphans, servant girls and old people for 18 years. In Kentucky, Spring of '94. Rev. Sain Jones will please accept the thanks of the subscriber for the use of his tabernacle and pulpit at Hopkinsville, Ky., and the loan of his audience for one night only at the same place. It is so rare a thing for a prosperous revival to adjourn over and give us the tabernacle for onr great moral show that I take great pleasure in mentioning it, and I hope that we did not by word or deed retard the good work which Mr. Jones is doing in Kentucky. [Copyright, 1894, by Edgar W. Nye.l (Copyright, 1892. by the Author ] "Don't you? Well, perhaps it doesn't. But see it may all depend on the position of that door to show whethei the villain who did this did it deliberately and calmly, or whether he wan Hurried and nervous and so hurried the matter." Then it occurred to her that she was makinp a blunder. If the whole of the bar were burned, it might alter its appearance so much as to defeat the very object she had. "You are talking wildly and at random," said Mary. "What has happened is this: I had to get money to bring you to-day, and could only get it advanced from Mr. Gorringe on the security of my savings' bank deposit. He crave me a bank note, and this passed from me to you. and from you to Murstone. Murstone then took it back to Gorringe to know how it had come into your hands, and at the same time spoke his belief that another ten pounds was missing from the sick fund. In this way Mr. Gorringe knew I had given you the money. His story is that at the time of Murstone's interview with him he believed the whole thing to be a cock and bulj story, but afterwards he thonght that he ought to look into all the cash matters at the mill." "Certainly,"' answered Mary, readily. "I have no secrets from him." open she entered. "Ah, but he has from you. I—" "Where is he?" she asked, with a gesture of impatience at his reply. The old man, liearinp a noise, called out: "I heard Mr. Coode, Tom," said the girl, "and am glad you told him you weren't to be driven away. The truth will come out in the end. What dc you mean by having proof?" "Is that you, Tom? Are you come All throuph the impromptu investipation which (Jorrinpe carried throuph, the rest were much impressed by the direct character of his questions and the clear method in which he elicited the fa.'ts. Iler plan was to lead Corrinpe to think he had mistaken paint for blood; if he found the whole bar had been thus treated ho would immediately see he had been tricked. She pulled the bar out apain with the tongs, therefore, and stripping off the charred paper, left only the stained portion in the firo. back?" "I am not quite certain; but I believe be has gone either to 1'resburn to see Lee about the sick fund matter, or else to the grange to see Mr. Coode about the more serious matter here." "No, Mr. Roylitnce, it's mo," said Mary, poinp into the inner room where he lnv "where is Tom?" As she put it back she noticed that some of the other books were out of place, and she tried to push them into line. There seemed to be somethinp behind which prevented them from poinp into their proper places. She took down two or three to see what was the cause of their sticking out, and then saw a paper parcel lyinp behind them. "I don't know what they've done, ot how they've done It, -lass; but the money in the mill accounts is short by thirty or forty pounds. I mean that which has passed through iny hands. There are the papers which show I had it. and there's nothing to show what I did with it. It's as clear as? daylight to look at. It staggered me, myself; but it's all a lie from A to Z. I'm no thief. I'm no saint, maybe; but I haven't dropped to stealing. Though, for all the chance I've got of having the thing cleared up. I might as well be a thief. But I'll face it out." "That's jnst what I don't know, mv lass. I don't know whatever'* come to the lad. He went out somewhere about eight or nine, I should thinl; it was, and came rushing in half an hour ago all in a liurr VVhon he came to deal with the doctor, ho was searching in his questions. There has always been one great, undeniable fact connected with the work of Sam Jones, and that is that the people "More serious matter," repeated Mary, questioningly. "Much more serious matter?" answered Gorringe, emphatically. " Did you tell him what is charged against him?" "Of course," said the doctor, with professional caution, "I cannot pledge myself until I have made an autopsy; hut there can be no reasonable doubt as to t!ie cause of death. This fracture in the base of the skull," {jointing to it, "would have killed the strongest man in the world; it has crashed ripht into the brain. Either of these wounds in the face would also probably have been enough to cause death." Then she began to think of other matters. The trial was continued and adjourned, put over and the venue changed, together with all the other smart things known to lawyers who are being well paid, until finally, in spite of time and eternity, both of which had been pretty well consumed, the jury, greatly to the surprise of the court, found the defendant guilty on the whole 27 indictments. The evidence was all that way, of course, but the case had been on hand so long that the judge did not think defendant would be found guilty. Stopped about five or six minutes, and then came to me and said hu was going off. -sourrv The story she meant to manufacture must be circumstantial, and must be supported by details. For this purpose, there must be something' in the house amongst Tom's belongings which would bear it out. She determined, therefore, that she would get some red paint and leave it about in Tom's bedroom, together with such odds and ends as would suggest that he had been usinp it. "This is not like you, Tom," she whispered to herself, under her breath, as she took it out, and made room for the books on the shelf. "I told him some particulars. That he had received money which he had not in-counted for, and that moneys had been given him to pay away which have never been paid. There is no doubt of it." " 'Where are you going, lad?" 1 " "Don't know, father. I'll lot you know in a day cr so I am going away for the holidays.' Hut he didn't look like holidaying, not to my eyes, lie was all excited and trembling and shaking and pale, and I don't kftow what. asked. It was something' very heavy, about eighteen inches in length, and was wrapped in strong writing paper. It had evidently been wrapped up hurriedly; and when she looked closely at the paper she saw that it was some of that which Tom had been in the habit of using for his accounts for the Riclt fund—large foolscap sheets of thick white paper. She had been (Trowing- gradually very nervous, fearing to tell him of Gorringe's accusation. "I do not believe it," answered Mary, confidently and resolutely. "Nay, 1 am sure there ia a mistake, and all will be made clear. Tom Roylance is no thief." "Virtually, of course, there can be nc doubt that the blows either on the face or at the back of the head caused death?" asked Gorringe. "Well! Go on. It's quite interesting1," he said, laughing1 angrily. "What does he say he found? That I bad been stealing money there, as well as from the sick fund?" "Well said, Tom," exclaimed Mary. "We'll face it together, lad. Your trouble shall be mine too, my dear; we'll meet it hand in hand. If they drive you away, they shall drive Hie with you; but we'll light against it as long and as hard as we can." While she was thud" engaged she was kept from thinking too closely of what the discovery of the weapon realty meant, and, partly with this object, she hurried on with this work as quickly as possible, and did not rest until it was completed, and she had replaced the short bar of steel, changed as she had designed, and wrapped in a sheet of foolscap paper, taken from some she found in Tom's bedroom, which had no connection with the accounts of the sick fund, and had certainly never been at the mill. He was therefore thunderstruck when the verdict came in. He said that he would take the matter under advisement for 24 hours before passing sentence. Alter the time had expired the judge took his seat on the wool sack, wearing a clean collar and a look of almost angelic purity. ITereyes flashed and her face burned with indignation as she said this, ltut Reuben Gorringe made no reply or " ' What's the matter, Tom?' I asked him. Hut he just said naught: and he shook my hand and stooped and kissed me on the forehead—a thing lie ain't done for years. "Virtually, no doubt at all," said the "Not the slightest," agreed the police nspector. "That's clear as day." doctor. The girl grew silent. Suddenly Tom's manner changed, and he grew terribly in earnest. She felt it curiously all along, and it seemed to be square with a large knob at one end. It could not be anything very important, she thought, or Tom would never have left it where he had. Thinking this, she unfolded the paper. Suddenly she uttered a cry. It was a short square bar of .steel, with a fragment of a broken cog-wheel at one end. The broken end was stained with blood, and clinging to it were a number of gray hairs, and there was blood on the inner paper. movement. Tom was touched by her words and the loving- confidence of her tone; and drew her to him and kissed her. "Well, inspector, do you want to take charge of the place here, or of the body? I should like it removed as soon as possible. If-the doctor here makes the post mortem this morning and we get the inquest held for this afternoon, the jury can view Ihe body and tho room as it is and we can have my poor Wd friend buried at once." "You promised nothing should be done until I had seen you again," said the girl, after a momentary pause. " 'What I'm doin'. I'm doin' for the best," he said "Don't think too hard on me!' Bless the lad, what could I think hard on him for? Hut In-fore I could tell him t hat, he was gone." "Do you mean, Mary, that they are going to vamp up another tale against me at the mill? Tell me everything you heard. Quick, for God's sake, don't keep me in this suspense! What did the man say?" The bailiff opened the comfc, and the jndge took a fresh chew of navy tobacco. "Prisoner at the bar," he said, adjusting his artificial teeth so that he could speak more firmly, "an impartial jury of your countrymen have, after a long and tedious trial upon this indictment, which, in fact, covers the other 26 as "Nothing more has been done, except that the papers have been sent to Mr. Coode. As I told you, he has the decision." "You're a good lass, Mary; butthis'll be a sore pinch for you—greater, maybe, than you see yet. They'll beat me in the end, as they've beaten mc so far. Thcre're too strong for me, lass," he said, the momentary light her words of confidence had kindled flickering out in his dejection. What she heard multiplied Mary's uneasiness many times. She said quietly and soothingly: "lie told me that he bad heard that you had been spending money lately; that you had been in some sort of doubtful company ("That's & lie," interrupted Tom vigorously); that he bad noticed some sort of change in C; and that when he examined the ks and papers at the mill there was a certain amount of money missing'." "The decision as to what?" asked Mary. The other man agreed to this as an excellent arrangement, and with that they all went out of the office, Gorringe closing and locking the door after them. Hefore he locked it, however, he tried it once or twice to see whether, when it was shut, it would come open easily and without being touched by anyone. It would not, and this fact seemed to afford him matter for thought. WThen she had finished, a further idea struck her—to add to the complication by giving the bar thus changed into Reuben Gorringe's own hands for him to keep; and she saw at once the sooner this was done the better. She had taken a very short time to do what she had planned, and she wrapped up the bar at once and carried it to the mill, hoping to find the manager there. "As to prosecuting or not prosecuting'," answered Gorringe, speaking1 without looking at the girl. "Lie down, father, and try to get some sleep. I'll stop and see if Tom LISTENING TO SWING. "Not they, lad. We've truth on out side, and lleaven won't let the innocent be wrongfully punished." comes in." are with him. It is one thing to preach and quite another to get a congregation to come and listen. Sam Jones never lacked a hearing. It is hard to analyze why this is so at first, but when you notice that he does not pull his sermons out of a cyclopedia or concordance you are coming close to the cause of it. We went the other evening to hear a clergyman whose sermon bristled so with statistics and cyclopedias that he did not dare leave his manuscript even to look at the fair young contralto who sat near him in the choir. The blow struck home, and Mary turned very pale. She smoothed his pillows, made the bed more comfortable, shaded the lamp from his face and then sat down by the head of the bed to watch and wait. Mary stood gazing at the fearsome object almost like one spellbound. The air round her went dark and thick. She could scarcely breathe, and grew giddy. She thought she was going to faint. Then a sound of some one moving in the passage behind her recalled her from her fright, and she sought in stinctively to cover up the dreadful thing she had found. "Heaven will have to work something like a miracle, then, to cope with this business," answered Tom, despairingly."What do you think he will do?" she asked, faintly and fearfully. "By heavens! I'll have his life if he dares to spread those lies about me. The cowardly liar." His vehemence and agitation were almost alarming to look at. He strode excitedly about the room, clenching his fists and shaking them at imaginary enemies, and vowing vengeance against all who were thus against him. "I think he will prosecute," answered Gorringe, also in a low voice. "The proofs are clear." She sat as still as sleep itself, thinking over what had been told her and wondering what it could mean. Had he determined to take Mr. Coode's offer and leave the town, after his many assertions that he would do nothing of the kind? If so, was Savannah in any way connected with his going away? ■ That thought was like a dagger thrust. "I wish you'd tell me what has passed between you all to-day." Reuben Gorringe was there and came out to her. Mary felt a tightness about her throat, while her mouth went dry and hot and her lips quivered. "I saw Gorringe. and he told me the charges last night, saying all the papers had been sent to Mr. Coode. 1 went to Mr. Coode's place and then found he had come here. I came back to Walkden Bridge, and saw the two together at the milL Thev laid the papers before me—my receipts for the money, and the accounts I had given of the money. They were short; while some of the entries I made are for payments which the people swear they've never received. It's all so plain that if I didn't know I'm innocent I should believe the papers against myself. Old Coode said he hadn't the slightest wish to believe me anything but innocent, but what could he think in the face of the proofs? Then he urged me to go away quietly. But I wouldn't agree. I was violent. I was mad. I could have smashed everything in the place in my rage. I told him I wouldn't go; and that if he liked to lock me up for what I'd never lone, he might. But he urged me. He was as kind as a man could be to one whom he thought a thief. 'What could I do in Walkden Bridge when 1 wasn't allowed in the mill?' he asked. 'Better go and try to make a new life of it somewhere else; forget this, and try to live down the memory of it.' But I won't go while the running away means a confession of an act that I haven't done. Come what may, I'll hold my ground." "Hy the way," said tho police inspector, "there's one thing I've very foolishly forgotten. What about the weapon with which this was done? I didn't see anything in the room." "I have thought, after all, that it would be better for yon to have this, Mr. Gorringe," she said, giving it into his hands, "that you may keep it in a safe place." "Yon yourself, do you—do you believe this—this charge? You are Tom's friend; you promised to be mine as well. You know what this will mean to me. Do you believe it?" But she was too late. Before she could hide it, or even hide the marks of the blood, Reuben Gorringe entered tho room. "Nor I; there was nothing. But yon can see to that when you go back to get the body away for the post-mortem," answered Gorringe. "Whatever the weapon was, if it was left behind it'll be there. What should you think it was, doctor?" "Whom does he mean by bad company, I wonder? Whose character ■does he want to destroy besides mine, I should like to know?" "I forgot to say, just now, Mary," he began, then, changing his tone suddenly, ho cried: "My God! Mary, what's that? What have you there?" and he hurried forward and took it from her scarce resisting hand, and scrutinized it minutely. He took it at once and began to unfold the outer paper with she had wrapped it. The girl was afraid he meant to examine it again. The congregation fidgeted around in the seats at last until he felt that he must become more impassioned or lose his hold upon the people. Then he cut loose and carved the air with his lily white hands. Reaching an impassioned spurt of eloquence at last, he balanced himself on his toes, and cutting great slices out of the atmosphere he closed by saying in clarion tones: He did not reply immediately, but seemed as if running over in his thoughts all the circumstances. Then he spoke as if with an effort, in a low, balanced tone: She could not sleep. Iler brain was too restless, too busy, too all-inquiring. She watched the darkness outside lift and lighten gradually; and when the faint gray light came stealing in through the white blind, throwing up in dim outline the figure and then the features of the old man who lay sleeping on the bed, Mary rose and put out the lamp, and then watched the light as it broadened and brightened, and listened to the sounds of the dawn as they came in faintly from without. "I think he means Savannah," answered Mary. "Can I look into the offiee?" she asked, unable to think of anything else likely to draw away his attention from the parcel. "I'll cram the words down his illshaped throat!" ho cried, savagely. "The cowardly hound; to get you there and endeavor to set you against the poor girl in that way, as well as against me! But he shall answer for it, I take my oath he shall, and heavily, too. Did he say any more? Are there no other lies he told you to bring to me?" "I have tried to see a loophole, but I cannot. It is painful enough for me to have to say this; but it is best for you to know the truth now." "Well, I can scarcely say without a closer examination of the wounds; but 1 should think it was some bluntish instrument, with perhaps a knob or lump at the end, with a jagged edge. It looks like that." Then he lifted his eyes from the gruesome sight, and looked at the girl; and each read the thoughts which it had stirred in the other. She was successful. "For what purpose?" he said, quickly, stopping in the act of unwrapping the paper and merely glancing at the writing and figures—Mary had taken care to substitute for the original wrapper a paper which was covered with Tom's figures. "I SAVED SIXTEEN SOULS." "It is not the truth," said Mary, but her manner was no longer confident. "Tom is no thief." "Oh, isn't it thankful that this is thus?" well, found you guilty, so that you are jonvicted upon 27 counts, each of which sails for not less than one year nor more than 10 years in the state prison. People who have a message from on high do not make this class of statements. When he thought he had a call to preach, "it was doubtless some other noise." "Ah, well, I dare say it'll turn up; good morning," and Gorringe walked away homewards to breakfast. CHAPTER XVIII WHAT SAVANNAH HAD TO SAT. "I hope it may prove so; but he could give no explanation, except a bare denial. Now, as Tom knows, all the papers are in Mr. Coode's possession; his decision will settle what is to be done." Then Mary left him, carrying a greater load than ever in her heart. "What can this mean?" said Gorringe, In a low, strained tone, as if speaking in pain and fear. "The court must therefore pass sentence upon you covering this entire ver-31ct. It will be readily seen that to give you the full penalty of the law would require 270 years, which is an unusual length of time for a man to live even in the vigorous and balmy climate of Uliaois."He did not give them to me to bring t» you," said Mary. "Why he told me ■was that he might see what course to take in order to save the matter going farther." The light was full and strong enough to show Mary the time by the small clock on the mantel board—six o'clock—when her ear caught the sound of the footsteps of those who were intending to begin their holiday early in the day. About ten o'clock, while Mary was sitting with old Mr. Roylance, she was surprised by Reuben Gorringe, who walked in and started to find her there. •'You here, Mary?" he said. "I want to get a clear understanding of all the dreadful facts," she answered. "Will you tell tliern to me?" "Yes," said Sam Jones awhile ago, "young men come to me and say they have a call to preach, and I say to them: 'What will you tell to the people? What is the message you will deliver to the world?* And they say, 'I will open my mouth, and the Lord will fill it.' He had paled a little, and trembled; and his finger shook as he pointed it at the blood-stained end of the bar. It was a fearsome, ghastly weapon, all suggestive of horrible cruelty and violence."You can come into the inner office if you like." "Let it go farther—aye, as far as it Can—and be hanged to him! lie can't do much more than rob me of my name. But what does he mean by going farther?'" he said, pausing in his walk and standing by the girl's side. "Where's Tom?" CHAPTER XVL THE MCRDER AT THE WILL. Suddenly a knock sounded on the door of the cottage, making the girl start. Then a hand tried the door and. finding it open, some one came with a heavy step along the passage. Mary looked at him quietly and earnestly, yet with fear in her eyes, and with very pale cheeks. The girl thought it would be well for her to know where he put the fateful little parcel she had brought, and, making an effort to fight with a sort of half-hysterical dread that affected her, went with him. "Moreover, it is the duty of the court in wrath to remember mercy. Therefore the sentence of the court is that the prisoner shall be compelled to serve a -term of one year in the state penitentiary at Joliet for each one of the 27 counts upon which he is found guilty,, but that the term of imprisonment upon each of the 27 convictions shall begin on the same day and date. "Well, Mary," said one of the girls who met her in the millyard just after she left the office, "what are you going to do this holiday time?" "He is not at home," she answered. "Not at homel Why, where is he Mary made no answer. She was too overcome to be able to speak for the moment. She leaned heavily on the table, and, moving slowly, sank upon a chair that stood by it, and bent her face upon her hand. "Yes, brethren, and he does too. HtD fills it with wind, and there are hundreds of these old airguns going around today with their mouths full of words waiting for the Lord to supply them with ideas." "He said that the matter was one which Mr. Coode would settle, and not he himself; and he asked me wfffether I could think of any way in which the difficulty could be met. I suppose that it may not strike Mr. Coode unpleasantly.""What is it?" asked Mary, going to meet the incomer, and speaking in a low voice so as not to wake the old old man. then?" "I hadn't thought about the holidays,'' answered Mary. "What with the strike, being ill, and one thing and another, I'm in no grand spirits for holiday making." "How can I tell?" answered the girl, with assumed indifference; and motioning toward the old man to prevent anything being said before him. "1 am nervous," she said, glancing up at him, and laying her hand on his arm as she spoke. We went last Sunday to hear Professor Swing at Central Music hall, Chicago. The house is comfortable and the acoustics good. The congregational singing is elevating and full of genuine devotion. A good organ adds to the beauty of the music, the hymns are selected with excellent taste and sense, and the sermon offers something to think of for weeks afterward. The congregation looks intelligent, and even though Mr. Pullman was present I did not see a sleeper in the audience. The man was filled with pity at the (right of her terrible, silent agony; but he knew the girl better than to show his feelings. He sought to rouse her to action. "There is nothing to be nervous about," he answered, smiling. "Whose work is this, do you think, Tom?" asked Mary. "I've come to tell Tom the news, lass," said the man, a neighbor, who was dressed in his best and going for his holiday. "This is a sad business, Mr. Radiance," said Gorringe. "I came in to see Tom, as I thought I might want him at the mill. Never mind if he's out. I must see you at oncc," ho added to Mary in an undertone. "Come into the other room." "What care I whether it strikes Mr. Coode or anyone else unpleasantly? I have done nothing to be ashamed of and nothing that is wrong. In what way does he dare to pretend that I have done this?" Mary had forgotten that it was Whitsuntide, and that the mill was to clou after that day—the Friday—until tha following Wednesday. "I am nervous while you hold that," she said, pointing to the bar he was carrying in his hand. "Put it away." "Sheriff, adjourn court!" "Some of the strike hands'. That's about the size of it, 1 expect. But I can't get at the secret. They've laid the plant with such devilish cunning that they've taken in Coode and Gorringe, and would take in the very devil himself. But I won't run away;" and this he repeated several times, until it seemed almost as if he wished to strengthen the resolve by many protestations of it. "The news?" said Mary. "A strange time for telling news, Mr. Bridge," she said, cheerfully. "Tom must be brought back," he said. "This must be faced." He smiled as he might have done when humoring the whim of a child. Late in the afternoon she saw Tom, and was the witness of a scene between him and Mr. Coode and Gorringe. Mary was passing near the office when the door was thrown open suddenly and with some force from within, and Mr. Coode, Gorringe and Tom appeared on the threshold. There was a ring of determination in his voice, and a suggestion that Tom had only to come back in order to clear away the mists, for which the girl was thankful. "Aye. and it's strange news to tell, lass, too. Some one got into the mill last night and killed old Mr. Coode. He was found dead this morning when Jake Farnworth went in." "I will keep it here," he said, putting it in a drawer, which he locked. "I can't say I understand. He tried to explain his meaning by a number of papers, but I was too much upset to be able to understand it," answered the girl. Reuben Gorringe went into the next room, and she followed as soon as possible. Gorringe was looking at a boC*k of Tom's which he put down as she entered. "You are very good," sho said. "You will keep the promise you made?" Polite. Not long ago Edmund Russell dawned upon a certain western city, and the Blanks gave a large reception. Among the plans for the entertainment of the guests was a scene from "Macbeth" rendered by a young woman of local elocutionary fame. The head of the family was not informed of this especial part of the programme. At the proper moment the young woman personating Lady Macbeth appeared at the end of the drawing room dressed in a trailing robe of white and bearing a light. She moved slowly forward, an expectant hush falling upon the assemblage. The host looked up, saw and wholly misunderstood. He hesitated only a moment, then hastened forward with hospitable zeal, saying: "Why, Miss Smith, good evening! I'm very glad to see you. May I relieve you of your candle?'—Argonaut. She looked up for a moment and showed her gratitude in the g lance. "Do you know where he is?" he asked. "Certainly. That will never be moved till such time as we agree that it shall be produced." Professor Swing is a very plain man, ranking about third among the homeliest men of the United States. His delivery is undoubtedly bad, and his gestures do not show a particle of Delsarte training. He has only one or two gestures, and they are not in good repair. He has a rather feeble voice, and when he speaks he leans against the pulpit, emphasizing his more earnest passages by a peculiar squat which dusts the dais with his coattails, and yet every listener hangs upon each sentence with the most earnest attention because he has a message to deliver. He is not hampered by the action of a convention or tied to a platform. He is an unpledged delegate, free to say and do what he believes to be best. "Dead! Killed!" cried Mary, hushed, horror-laden voice. in n "Well, I must say ithasa nice sound; that you two should have been putting your heads together in order to make out what more I had stolen and how I had done it," he cried, with a burst of bitterness. "Where is Tom?" he asked again. "Why has he run away?" •'Now will you tell me all that is said about the—the scene of last night?" They were all more or less angry, and Tom was speaking very fast and gesticulating violently. "Why not see Mr. Coode alone? no is a just man, or said to be so, and if you were to talk over the whole of the matter quietly with him you might be able to persuaC* him what the truth is." * "Aye, killed, sure enough, with his face all battered and beaten out of shape and knowledge. It's naught but murder, that job." "What do you mean?" she answered, indignantly. "How dare you to say he has run away—you,of all men?" The girl shook her head. "That's bad. Any delay Is full of danger. The inquest is this afternoon, you know." "Ah!" "I have given you the only answer I shall give you, Itoylance," Mary heard Mr. Coode say, "and nothing you can now say will alter it." "You can see everything from here, if you can bear to look," answered Gorringe. "Why I, of all men?" he answered, looking at her keenly. Mary thought it best not to answer the taunt, excusing1 it on account of tha anger which she knew sucb an accusation would naturally evoke. CHAPTER XVIL HOW TH* WEAPON WAS FOT7ND. "Because you yourself as good as told him to go away on pain of being prosecuted. I heard Mr. Cqode when he said it yesterday. If he has gone in consequence of this, how can you come and ask where he is? Are you still so eager to prosecute?" Before he had finished the telling, some one came to speak to him, and Mary went away. "I say it's a plot, a downright infamous plot to ruin me; and 1 have a right to have all particulars given to me." "But I can't talk quietly about it. Besides, iie wouldn't see me -alone, 1 expect." The news of the murder spread through the mill village and filled all classes of the people with consternation.The exclamation seemed to be wrung from her, despite her will. Then she looked again at Gorringe, this time with an almost imploring expression, while her eyes traveled again to the terrible evidence of the murder which he held in his hand. "Is there any more to be told?" he said. "Oh yes, he would; if for nothing else than for your father's sake. Go to the mill and ask him. He's sure to be at the mill this evening, if he doesn't go back home to Grange." She thought over everything she had heard, and tried to look at it all as it affected her lover, but she could not see that there was any evidence of any kind against him, beyoftd the fact that he had quarreled with the mill-owner —except only that which she had destroyed in reference to the steel bar. As she thought of this, sho was glad that she had done so. "They don't accuse me of firing that shed the other night, I suppose; and they haven't got to a charge of murder yet. Though, by heavens, they may still do that, and with cause too, if I am to be persecuted like this." "No, Tom; I Vnow nothing more." "Don't make a scene here in the mill, or I'll have you put out," said Mr. Coode. "You're not going to bully me into doing just what you want. I tell you again, I am considering what course to take. I have not settled yet what line is best; but you have not explained any of the circumstances which these papers show against you.'' He drew some papers from his pocket as he spoke, and shook them toward Tom. "And I shall not give yon another opportunity of doing so, unless it is before the magistrates. I don't say I shall take such a step, and I don't say I shall not. These papers are ample proofs if I want them; but I shall not decide until after the holidays."Mr. Coode had not, for some years, taken a very active part in the conduct of the mill; but in former times he had been a well-known figure In Walkden Bridge—known to every one as a fair and just dealing if somewhat hard master. He had not been very popular, it is true; but certainly no one in the place could have been supposed to har bor anything like sufficient hostility to wish for his death. "Mary, don't speak so harshly. I came this morning to see Tom and tell him that now Ihis thing has happened he need have no further fear; and this Is my reception." lie said this in an aggrieved tone. He understood the look. "You think no mention need be made of this to-day?" "Need it?" He agreed at length to do as the girl wished, and a little later she went home, Tom promising to come to hei as soon as he had seen Mr. Coode. He truly said that no man could be thoroughly eloquent without a noble cause to espouse and speak for. Daniel Webster at the tent door of a sideshow could not have been an orator, but for freedom and patriotism he could be eloquent."Tom, Tom; don't speak so wildly," cried Mary, frightened at his words. He seemed much calmer than when she left him. She was glad, very glad, that he had resolved not to run awav from the trouble; and her faith in Tom gave her a quiet undercurrent assur ance that all would be well. And down in a corner of her woman's heart she was glad to think that at any rate she would have an opportunity of proving to him how true was her love. "No, I think perhaps not. Little more than is absolutely necessary will be done to-day to enable the funeral to take place." "A Suburban Lot." "Well, I do not know where he is; but I suppose he has gone away because you and Mr. Coode told him he'd be prosecuted. That seems the likeliest reason," answered Mary. But this thought led her to consider that she had had no time since she had mado the discovery to think about the real significance of that piece of evidence. Did it mean that Tom had gone in hot temper to the mill; that he had seen Mr. Coode and quarreled with him; and perhaps in anger had struck the blow which had killed him, and then, hastening home, had put the weapon in the place where she had found it, and fled away in the night? "Well," he added, with a bitter laugh, "I suppose I must be thankful that I'm not worse than a common thief." "Thank you," said Mary, gratefully. Interpreting this as an indication that he would keep the secret for a time. Delay meant hope for her. There was no doubt, however, that the cause of death was murder. The dead man's face had been battered out of all knowledge, while a terrible blow from behind had crushed in the .skull with force enough to have killed an ox—so said the doctor. Day before yesterday I heard a young clergyman in the car who had a very penetrating voice, and he was telling of the success of his "work." "Don't, dear, don't," said the girl, rising and going to him to take bis arm. "Don't speak in that way. Let us try to see what is to be done to thwart the plots against you and get the truth proved." "When did he go?" asked Gorringe. "Somewhere about eight o'clock last evening, I fancy," answered Mary, as unconcernedly aB possible. "I did not see him after six or seven." Then an idea occurred to her, and, supplying a purpose, gave a direction to her thoughts, and in this way restored somewhat her self-control. "Last Sabbath," said he, "I baptized eight, and last season I saved 16 souls." After she had had some tea, Mary took a book and went up to her bed room, the window of which overlooked the road, and she sat there to wait and watch for Tom's coming. At about six o'clock an engineer had gone to the mill to make Rome repairs, taking advantage of the engine being stopped for the holidays; and as he had to pass the office, he chanced to see through the open door the signs of some confusion. He looked in and found that evidently something was amiss, as the chairs and office stools were overturned, a lamp that stood on the desk had been thrown down and broken, papers and books were scattered ill all directions, and everything looked, as he said, "as if there had been a regular free fight." "Must have been later than that, I fancy. He was in the village after that. Some one met him near the Two Stones bridge after ten o'clock." This was a spot within fifty yards of the mill. She rose from her chair, firm in her object, and surprised Gorringe by the sudden change she showed. A man not yet 30 years of age who can truthfully say that he has personally saved 10 souls in one season ought not to be ashamed to state it on the cars, and I think it is nothing more than right that it should be put in the paper. So here it is. "What is to be done?" he cried. "Before we can settle anything I must ,know what the exact lies are that they tell; and that I'll know as soon as possible, if I have to drag1 it by force out of Gorringe. By heavens, I'll go at once to him. I won't let an hour pass without facing the lie he has told." As he held the papers towards Tom the latter made a hasty step forward, and endeavored to snatch them from his grasp. But the other moved back as hastily, and avoided him. "If so, why should he have put it in 6uch a Dlace?" When dusk grew into darkness and the air began to grow chilly Mary closed the window and went downstairs, thinking it could not be much longer before Tom's arrival. Then it struck her that it might cheer him to have a bit of warm supper. Moreover, the preparation of it would occupy hei while she waited, she thought, and help to make the time pass. "I was overcome and scared at the sight of such a thing as that," Bhe said, pointing to the weapon with a shudder; t'but I am better. I found it here behind these books. They are Tom's. No one goes to them except him. I don't know what It means, but whatever the truth may be it must come out. It frightens me now when I think of it; but it would kill me if I were to try and keep such a matter secret." fro be "That attempt on your part only confirms me—" "Well, I don't know. I don't think he can have been there, for I was on the lookout to see him." Worked the Wrong Way. Kitty—I thought I would give Jack Ford a hint that it was getting late, so J ordered in the coffee at 10 o'clock. I heard of an incident not long ago where an effort was made to combine politics and religion. Ephraim Taft was a candidate in western Missouri for county superintendent of schools, and the prospects were that he would be elected by an overwhelming majority unless some great coup d'etat could be worked in the campaign. Mary agreed to this course, and soon after they separated; Tom promising to go to her to tell her the result of the interview with Gorringe if she should have left the cottage before he returned from the manager. "I want to see what you call the proofs." cried Tom, here breaking in to explain his attempt. "You were on the lookout!" said Gorringe, sharply, looking quickly and searchingly at her. The Walter Went One Better. Bessie—And of course he went as soon aa he had drunk it? A Yankee visitor to this country wae rocently staying at a certain hotel in Liverpool. The morning after his arrival he was taking a look round the hotel when he came across one of the waiters. Glancing up at the building, the Yankee said: "That may or may not be true; I am not going to argue. Now you had better go away. I don't want to do you more harm than necessary. Your father worked for me for many years, and for his sake I wish to do nothing harsh. Therefore, you understand, I shall make no decision till Monday or Tuesday. This is Saturday. If by then you have left the place, probably no more will be heard of the matter; if you are still here, and persist in coming to the mill, or showing your face in the village, then you can reason for yourself what my course will be. You'll be sorry then you did not accept the offer." "Yes; and I think I should have Been him." Kitty—No; he said it made him so wakeful that he felt as if he could sit up all night.—New York World. '"Well, he'd better come back, wherever ho is, and whenever ho went," said Uorri nge, significantly. "I'm sorry he's gone away; I wanted him to have come up to the mill to run through Gorringe looked at her, but she met the look without flinching. She waited a long time, sitting with the old man. Some hours passed without Tom returning until, despite her anxiety to know the result of the interview, she felt obliged to go home. She was thoughtful and sad all the way home, and very miserable afterwards when she sat waiting for him. But when the meal was ready, and the clock pointed to ten o'clock, there were still no of Tom. Then, lying on one side of the office table that stood in the middle of tho room, he had found the body of Mr. Coode. He had rushed out at once and given the alarm, sending the first person he met for the police while he ran for the doctor. "Do you mean you will tell the coroner's jury that you found this thing here among Tom's books?" he said, to test what she meant. A Good Sign. Ernest Paddock was the opposing "Say, stranger, is this the biggest hotel you have here in Liverpool?" Eleven o'clock struck, and the sharp, quick strokes of the little drum clock, as she counted them, made her begin to feel anxious. Mra Sharp—Fan, that yonng man of yours has been coming here steadily for over a year. Do you think he has any matrimonial intentions? candidate, and he believed that Taft was not, as a matter of fact, old enough to fill the statutory requirements for the office, the law stating that no man should bo eligible who had not attained the age of 35 years. "Well, yes," answered tho waiter. "I believe it is ono of the largest iD Liverpool." the papers with me. I must go; this terrible business has upset everything. Good-by." "If necessary, yes," 6he answered. "Not to-day, unless necessary; but whenever It must be done I will say how I found it. If it means what at first I thought it meant it will kill me to have to say it." She sighed deeply and put her hand to her eyes, and added, In a very low tone: "I5ut it would kill me as surely to keep silent." Where could Tom be? She looked regretfully at the meal she had made ready for him in vain; and she sighed. She went outside again; but this time it was as much to cool her hot brovy as to look for Tom's coming. Fanny Sharp—Yes, indeed I Here lately I have noticed that every timo you come into the room ho gets nervous unci frightened. —Puck. Doctor and police arrived about tho same time, and both had agreed as to the cause of death. Nobody could look at the room without seeing that a struggle must have taken place, and no one could see the barbarous disfigurement of head and face without at the same time understanding tho cause of death. He put his hat on and turned hurriedly away—so hurriedly that he knocked down the book at which he had been glancing. With a muttered exclamation at his carelessness he picked It up, and, instead of putting it back on the table, gave it into the girl's hands. "Oh," says the Yankee, "then I guess we are ahead of you in our country, fox we could put this place in the porch ol one of our American hotels and not be at all inconvenienced." He did not come. And when at length she crept away to bed, wretched, heartsick, and worn with the load of the worry which had so harassed her, the fact of his not having come to her added greatly to her trouble. So Paddock decided to make a personal investigation. He was not of a religious turn of mind, but he made up aa a Methodist Episcopal clergyman in search of health and wended his way down into the country where young Taft's parents lived. Taken at His Word, At midnight she was more anxious than before. Tom could not possibly be with Mr. Coode until such an hour as this. But if not, where was he? Could they have locked him up? Customer—That beefsteak was tough enough to have kept mo working at it whilo I could have eaten two ordinary meals. The waiter, wishing to get straight with him, said, "Have yon been to Bir. mingham yet, sir?" "I shall not run away, don't you fear. I tell you for the fiftieth time, the whole thing is a plant, and I have had no more to do with your money than the mill chimney has; and that man knows it." He pointed to Gorringe, his finger shaking with rage. "It is nothing but a cowardly attempt to disgrace me and drive me from the place. But I wonlt go, do you hear? I won't go. Or if I do, it'll be aftei there's been something to go for." Next morning she looked anxiously for him at the mill, but neither he nor Gorringe was to be seen; and then the memory of the wild, rough words and threats which the former had used on the previous night recurred to her, and a fear of yet greater possible troubles oppressed and racked her. "Oh, I beg your pardon," he said, smiling. "I meant to put it down on the table; but I am absent-minded this morning." "My poor girl!" said the man. tenderly. "It is a fearful time for you!" "No," says the Yankee, "I have not, but I guess I will go before I leave the old country." Reuben Gorringe was very soon on the scene, and immediately began to question all concerned in a searching, vigorous manner. He made the engineer, Jake Farnsworth, who had discovered the body, tell the whole of his story over again carefully, and he wrote it down from his dictation. "You will spare me from having to speak of this to-day, then?" she said, with a wan and feeble smile, as she held out her hand to him. "You are good to me, Mr. Gorringe." The Cashier—Thank you, sir. James, make tho gentleman's check out for two suppers instead of ono.—Chicago Record.He fetched up at the old folks' home In the country about dusk and hitched Jiis horse. He told them who he was and asked if he might stay there over night. Missouri hospitality is generally understood from the southern hotel down to the humblest cot. The thought harassed her so much that at last she felt she must find out for herself whether there was any ground for it. She resolved to gc down to Tom's cottage and ascertain whether any tidings of him were to be obtained there. "Never mind," answered Mary; "I'll put it in its proper placo on that shelf there." "Well," said the waiter, "if you go, be sure and put up at the Great Western hotel. It will suit you down to the ground. Tho coffee room is a snoozer. It is three miles long, and the waiters go about on horseback."—Tit-Bits. "I found it on the table," he said, as if excusing himself for having had it in his hand at all. He laid the paper with its ghastly contents on the table as he took her hand and pressed it. And He Turned Away. "Yon can have a square meal," said tho Maryland farmer, ' 'if you will come out in the back yard and turn tho grindstone for me while you're waiting." To her relief, Reuben Gorringe arrived during the breakfast halftiour, looking very black and stern. As soon as he caught sight of Mary he ■went to her, and, saying he wished to speak her, led the way to the office. Paddock was invited to come right in and make himself at home. He had a good, lioneet supper and chatted on cheerfully with the elder Tafts till bedtime, and then tho old lady brought him a Bible to read a chapter from. This was what he had come for. At this point the door of the office was shut, and Tom was left alone on the outside. After muttering for a minute he turned on his heel and swung out of the mill, across the yard, and through the gates at a quick pace, his face wearing an angry and dejected look, which went to the girl's heart. The village was very still and dark as she hurried through it. As she passed the cottage where Savannah Morbyn lodged she saw a light in it and a sudden impulse prompted her to go and ask for Savannah and find out whether she had seen Tom. "You say you found tho office dooi open?" he asked. "No matter," she answered. "I will do all In my power for you, Mary," he said, earnestly. "Yes; enough to let me see a chair lying on the ground and a paper or two near it. I could see as things weren't all right, and that made me push the door open wider," said the man. She was sorry she had spoken sharply to him, for it was good of him to come to tell Tom that now there was nothing 11109 fear in the matter of the lost money. What a pity Tom had not stayed to faco it out. It looked now so much like guilt on his part to have left tho place. "We had better leave it in exactly the place where it was found," said Mary, quietly. "I'm not that kind of a crank, sir," replied tho commonweal forager stiffly. —Chicago Tribune. She bent her anxious gaze upon him. "Must I be lowered in the eyes of the world?" she demanded. "Certainly"  His demeanor offered no encouragement"Have you seen Tom?" she asked, before the other could speak. She could not hold back the question. "Had I not better take it with me?" asked the man. There's Many a Slip. Smith—Aro you married yet? Brown—No. She knocked lightly at the door. A woman came to the door holding s lighted candle above her head and, peering out. asked who it was. "Show me exactly how far it was open," said Gorringe, as if he thought much of the point. "Why? Tfce truth has to be tC?ld, and thus it is better placed where it was found." Paddock saw right away that there was no family record in that Bible, and so he said he could not read such fine print as that. Old man Taft asked him if he used glasses. Yes, he used glasses, but he had left his own somewhere or other, he said. So the old man offered "Yes, I saw him late last night. You told him what had passed between us?" he said, and looked at her from underneath his heavy eyebrows, now Icailted aloaa tocrethw. "at the front of the museum." Hut over all her thoughts there brooded, like a dark cloud of gloom, the fear that there might be some other and moro terrible reason for his Smith—Why, I thought you were going to marry a rich girl. With that he went to personally superintend the erection of the derrick while the fat woman finished her preparations for departure.—Detroit Tribuwt She called him by name, but he did not hear, and then she hurried back to the room where her looms were, and Tho man went out and pulled the door within about six or nine inches oi belnsr completely shut. He did not press tho matter, and before he could say anything further the girl took his hand In hers and thanked "It's me, Mary Asliworth, Mrs. O'Bxicn." said Mary. "Is Savannah in?" Brown—So did I till last night.— Detroit Free Press,