\ Ix \- -- ’A.\ —¢?— --l~| : A- divill The boat was crushed like an eg -shell, and the w0uian stood no chance for her ife, at all, at all!” CHAPTER XIII. THE BLUUDIIOUND snows HIS SKILL. 01.1) SUNFLownh shook his head slowly in a mournful way lor a few moments, and then he (1 ll: *‘ \\'al, I reckon this hyer thing lets me out of the consarn, and I will not have any call to bother my head ’bout it any more. " The woman has passed in her checks, and that settles it—l don’t s'pose [bar is any bit of diiuot but what she did go to the bottom?” he asked, abnuptly. " You don t reckon she might have been pick- ed up by any passing vessel?" “ Not. one chance in a thousand, sur!" McGunnigal exclaimed, in the most positive manner. “ Ah, no, she wint to the bottom yees may be shurel She was that Make that she couldn’t have been afther k’aping stint at all, at all.” “ )lebbe she is jest as well off,” Old Sunflower remarked. "‘ And now phat do I get?" asked the Irish- man, eagerly. “ Wal, I’ll go you five, anyhow, although what you have told me don’t amount to much,” the Westerner remarked, as he handed the bills to McGunnigaI, who received them with a grin of satisfaction. “ Mebbe it is worth the money, though, for me to know that I am through with the busi- ness,” the \Vesterner continued, reflectively, as he returned his \\ allet to his pocket. “ Say, kin I git back to the railroad by going doiwn along the shore and then taking a road in- land?” , “ Yis, sur: yees must kape along the shore for about half a mile, and thin whin the rocks come close to the water so that it is not con- vanient for yees to hope straight on, ye’ll see a weeny path that is afther l’ading up through the bushes. Take that, kape on, and it will bring yees to the track, but it’s a good two miles to the nearest station.” “All right! Much obleeged! See you ag’in, mebbe, some time," and then Old Sunflower de- parted. After he got well out of the hearing of the Irishman, he put his thoughts into words, as was usual with him when deeply interested in any subject. “Each man to his trade is an old saying, and it is a mighty true one," the Westerner ex— claimed. “Now I am a man-catcher—it was born in me, and I did not have to serve a long appren- ticeship before I was recognized use good work- man, and so it follows that I See a deal more in this business than these scoundrels. “ Not much display of intelligence could be expected, of course, from either the Irishman or the Giuney, but the doctor is a man of education and brains. and there is not much doubt about his being an extremely able and cunning ras- cal. “ When it comes to the man—hunting busi- ness, though, he is not in it, and the trick which the woman played succeeded in com— pletely fooling him. " I can understand how the business was worked, though, and I smoked it the moment the boat was mentioned. “ She escaped from the house all right; she is not quite right in her head, and when the brain is affected, a wonderful display of cunning is sometimes made. “When she came to the boat on the shore, with the cars in it, she did not attempt to use it as a means of escaping from the man she feared, for she had sense enough to understand that as she did not know how to handle the cars, she stood no chance of being able to get across the river: but she was cunning enough to understand that if she shoved the boat out into the river, so the tide would carry it away, when ,her absence was discovered, and search was made for her, the mement the fellows discovered the boat was gone they would immediately jump to the con- clusion that she had taken it. “Of course, that the boat would get stove in by a steamer, so as to give rise to the supposi- tion she was drowned, was something that neither she nor anybody else would be apt to conjecture. “ All she thought of was securing her escape. She understood that her absence would soon be discovered, she knew immediate pursuit would be given, and she calculated that while her pur- suers were searching for her-0n the river, she would be able to get away by land. “This is the way I have got it all figured out, and I feel just as sure the thing happened jest so as though I stood by and saw the trick worked. “ The next thing on the programme is to de- cide which way she went after the boat was set adrift. “ Three ways were open to her—the road to the station, up, or down the river. “ Ne w York, of course, was the p’int to which she would go, for she would be pretty certain to think she could hide away from her pursuers better in the big city than anywhere else. “She would be apt to be afraid to take the train at the nearest station, for fear that some of the people here might remember her, and in- form the Frenchman. “ It seems to me that she would instantly strike for the city as directly as possible, and in that case she would take this road, make her way to the railway track, go down the track until she came to a station and there take a train. “ The chances are good too, it seems to me, that she would not buy a ticket at the station, for fear of being traced, but would endeavor to steal on board of the train in the darkness. “Now, then,I will do my level best on this case and see if I can‘t strike the trail.” “’hile Old Sunflower had been indulging in these reflections he had been going on ward at a good pace, but, in spite of that, he had been ex- amining every foot of ground with the keen watchfulness of a veteran Indian trailer. The thought had come to him that he might discover the footprints of the fleeing woman in some bit of smooth road. And just as he came to where the ledge of rocks blocked the passage, and the little path, spoken of by the old Irishman, led up on the hillside, right before him in the soft ground were the clearly-defined marks of a woman’s footsteps. “ Ohol I reckon this liyer is pretty good proof that Ididn't make ary bit of a mistake in my calculations!” Old Sunflower exclaimed. “ This hyer is the track of a well-shod woman, no country gril with broad, common shoes, but the dainty footprints of a lady. “ I am on the right track, and though she suc- ceeded in fooling the Frenchman and his pards, yet she was not quite smart enough to pull the wool over my eyes.” Up the narrow path went the tracker, and he followed it until he came to the railway track, being careful to keep on the watch for more footprints, but as the ground was hard he did not make any dircoveries until he came to the iron Way. At this point the track wasa little elevated, and on the edge of the embankment there were more footprints. and they plainly showed that the maker of them had gone dowu the track. “ She was bound for the city, as I supposed, and the chances are big that she took a train at the next station)7 It did not take the big \Vesterner long to reach the railroad depOf, and during the walk he was gratified every now and then by seeing the woman’s footprints. Old Sunflower examined the ground closely as he appi‘Oached the station, and was able to discover where the woman had stepped clear of the track on the side the railroad building was located, thus plainly indicating that it was her objective point. The W esterner entered the station and exam- ined the time-table, which showed him that a ‘.train left for the city at 7:58 at night. “ Wal, I reckon she could have caught that, all right,” the tracker mused. “ Now I must find out if the ticket—agent saw her.” The young man in charge of the station was disposed to be, accommodating, and when Old Sunflower explained that he was anxious to find out if a certain lady—and he described the fugi- tive—~had on the previous night taken the eve~ ning train to the city, he replied in the nega- tive. Only a couple of men had bought tickets. “ But she may have arrIVed just in time to catch the train, ’ he added. “ l‘nen she would have got on board without buying a ticket, and I might not have seen her. “ By speaking to the conductor who run the train you will probably be able to find out, for she would have to pay her fare to him, and he would be certain to remember if she was a pus- senger,” he continued. Then the obliging young man explained that this particular conductor would be along on the next train, which was due in a few minutes. Old SunlioWer thanked the station-agent for his information, and then when the train came along got on board. As it happened the conductor was also another accommodating fellow and when Old Sunflower questioned him was Willing to afford all the in- formation in his power. “ Yes," a woman who ans“ ered to the descrip- tion given by the seeker alter knowledge had been a passenger on his train on the preCedihg evening. She did not have a ticket and paid her fare to him. He was positive in regard to the matter be- cause the lady made a decided impression upon him, as she acted rather strangely. She kept her vail closely drawn, so as to con- ceal her features as much as possmle, and took a seat in the extreme end of the car as though shrinking from observation. Then she had asked the conductor if the train went to New York, and this struck him as being an extremely odd circumstance, as it seemed very strange that she should have taken a train without being sure in regard to its destination. Then, when she came to pay her fare, she lacked five cents of the amount, a circumstance which seemed to embarrass her greatly, and she produced a handsome gold watch and chain which she desired the Conductor to take. But he was a gallant man, and as he told Old Sunflower: “ I wasn’t going to bother a lady for the sake of a nickel, so I told her it was all right; wh it she had was near enough, and I put her through on it.” (To be continued—commenced in No. 491.) The Case of_B_laine Dulmer. BY BERT L. THOMPSON. IT was a murder case, but there was nothing about it to shock the taste of the most fastidious reader of sensational news, no offensive wounds or deluge of gore: only one neat, clean hole where the bullet had penetrated to the brain, and even that was concealed by a proper ar- rangement of the hair over the temple of the corpse. He was one of those men who are said to be nobody’s enemy but their own, and I am con- fident that the coroner’s jury would have brought in a verdict of suicide had there been anything in the nature of the facts to substantiate such a theory. But Blaine Dolmer had a good situation, a steady income, and was on the eve of marriage with the girl of his choice. A very pretty little girl she was, too, in spite of her red eyes and woe-begone looks. You see, she being the last person who had seen Mr. Dolmer alive, so far as it could be as--ertaiued, it was necessary that I should interview her, butI own that I wasn’t prepared for the way in which she put her two little hands together and looked at me with such aquivering lip as a babywears when it is grieved. “ No matter what you find out, it was I who killed him, Mr. Thompson, 1 know I did, byjust promising to marry him at all,” she declared. “My grandmother jilted a man, who drowned himself in consequence, and of the three hus- bands she married not one lived a year after the wedding—day. It was the same With her daughters, and the fatality which foIIOWed them has come down to me. Oh, don’t try to argue the question. I’ve been engaged twice, and something has happened each time; some- thing would happen again if I could ever be so wicked as to imperil any man’s life by falling in love with him. But I’ll never do so again—- neverl” looking at me in a way which made me feel that almost any man might be tempted to take the risk. “ Will you tell me what happened the other time?” said I, persuasiVely. “ Oh, must I?” . And in spite of her distressthe poorlittle thing blushed all Over her pretty face. “ I’m afraid I was very much to blame. I—I really got to thinking too much of Blaine. IL- deed, I didn’t jilt Rodney Ackerman. I couldn‘t do that with my grandmother’s example be- fore me, but he seemed to read all that was in my heart, and he broke the engagement him- self. He Went into brain-fever on account of it, and all but died. If he had. I should have mur- dered him, too. Just think of my terrible fate— to bring death and disaster upon all who love mel You don’t know how miserable it makes me feel.” I did know one thing by the time I got through with my interview with Lutie Ardell, and that was that I’d argue the fatality idea out of her mind, and, with half a chance, induce her to make the trial of a third lover in the course of time. HeweVer, the business in hand was of a more prosaic nature. It led me to a close inves- tigation of the ground where the tragedy had occurred and the clothes which Dolmer had worn; the first with no result at the time, but the last brought outa kid glove of the finest French make crumpled into the bottom of an inner vest-pocket, left side, over the heart. A love‘gage? No: it only required a glance to tell me that this glove had never been intended for the hand of Lutie Ardell. A lady’s glove, but so large that with a little effortI could have put it on myself, invisible green in color, perfectl plain, and faintly scent- ed‘,with true attar o roses. An aristocratic glove, with an impress of rings faintly discern- ible in the pliant kid. I put it away carefully and went to the funeral next day, taking note of the female friends of the murdered man in a de~ sire to prove its ownership, but not one among them filled the requirements demanded by that glove. They were plain, ordinary, respectable people, not likely to wear imported kids or use costly perfumes. 'Among other attendants was a young man with athin, white face and haggard eyes, whom I knew to be Rodney Ackerman. I saw him change color when Lutie came in with her hand- kerchief to her eyes, and I must confess to a re- sentful thrill as the idea occurred to me that this former lover might dispute my aspirations to her favor. It is possible that jealousy may have prompted my critical survey of him. Gaunt and haggard from recent illness and carelessly dressed, I felt that in the matter of looks I could hold my own with him; his hair was pushed roughly back, his clothes hung loosely, his boots were illy brushed, and— An electric shock sent the blood tingling to my finger-ends. I was young in my profession then, besides having my feelings more deeply interested than is usually the case, and the line of bluish mud dried in the crack about Rodney Ackerman’s boot-sole struck me with all the force of a start- ling revelation. Nowhere in all the range of the country around was that peculiar kind of blue clayto be found except in the strip of swampy ground near which the murder had been committed. N 0 need of going into all the details. Within three days’ time I was ready to prove that Rodney Ackerman could give no sufficient ac- count of himself upon the night when the l l tragedy occurred, that he had been seen in the vicinity of the fatal spot, that his boots fitted to tracks still visible in the stiff clay, that a revol- ver he owned corresponding in caliber to the bull found in the victim’s brain was missing, that the motive for the deed was to be found in the relatiOn which both men had held toward Lutie Ardell. He was arrested and held for trial on the evidence adduced, but now that my share of the work was done, I still stayed in the place. - ' I was on terms of intimacy with the Ardell family, and tried in vain to comfort Lutie—all in a refined, sympathizing way, of course, and without even hinting my ulterior hopes. She was quite friendly and confidential with me; having no brother of her own, she seemed will- ing to adopt me in a brother’s place, and I was too wise in my generation to frighten away her liking by suing too soon for her love. It was in that way that she came to me when Rodney had been a week in the county jail. “I want you to take a message to him, Ber- tie,” said she. “ I’m as much to blame for mak- ing him what he is as in bringing poor Blaine to his dreadful fate, and I can’t rest without know- ing gust he forgivas me as fully as I forgive him. “ She forgives me?” repeated Ackernian,when I delivered the message. “ I wonder if she could also forget?” “ No, candidly, I don’t think she could,” said I. “ No: if you were to be cleared and go free. She considers herself as much Blaine Uoliner’s Widow as if she had been his wedded wife; she’ll be true to him while she lives,” repeating Lutie’s own declaration with more satisfaction than it had ever given me heretofore. “ And she thinks he was worthy of her?” There was aantensity of bitterness in his tone and hate of the dead man which better taste on his part should have repressed. I stiflly replied that no one could do Miss Ar- dell a greater injury than by intimating that he was not worthy, but Lutie continued in her idea. of classing both men as victims of her own un- conscious wrong-deing. The months rolled around, and we were at church together one Sunday—the last before Ackerman’s trial. became impressed with an uncomfortable sensa- tion of somebody looking at me, but who? My near neighbors were all devoutly absorbed in manner as good Christians should be, but so - strong was my impression that when the last hymn was pronounCed I was guilty of the rude- ness of turning around in the pew, and almost immediately I encountered the gaze of a. pair of large, dark, brilliant eyes belonging to a richly- dressed young lady who occupied the place directly behind me. She looked squarely and meaningly into my eyes, then advanced her hand, and a roll of something soft and dark fell on the cushion of the pew by my side. With the motion came a waft of the breath of roses. Almost mechanical- ly I secured the objei t—a kid glove with‘a wisp of paper rustling inside. “ Let me see you without fail,” it read in a hasty scrawl. " Come to the Hill at eight this evening, and ask for Miss Tarkington.” \liss Tarkington was the owner of the glove, and consequently of a certain other glove with which I took pains to compare it at the first op- portunity, and there was where the 'mystery came in, for the Tarkingtons of the Hill Were the aristocrats of the town. I presented myself sharp to the hour, and was shown without delay into the presence of Miss Rhode Tarkington, as magnificent a woman as I ever saw in my life. “ I wish to see you regarding this trial,” she began. “ You understand how such things go; could not some reason be found for delaying it until the next term of court?” I explained that the matter rested in the law- yers’ hands, not mine, and that nothing but the lack of very important evidence was likely to be taken into consideration to cause a delay. “ Well, I can supply such evidence,” said Miss Tarkington. “I shall be perfectly frank with you, Mr. Thompson. Iam to be married the first of the month, and if my testimony in the case is given before that time it will probably have the effect of breaking of! the match. There are reasons why I cannot bring the influence of my friends to bear in the mat ter. but—” ' he upshot of it was that she was Willing to offer a big bribe to a humble individual like me to accomplish What she dared not put out her own hand to effect. I could do nothing, of course, and when convinced of this fact, Miss Tarkington accepted it philosophically. “ Very well,” she said. “ You will do me the favor of keeping what I have confided to you a secret, will you not! And when the time comes, have me called as a witness for the defense. I want to avoid the notoriety beforehand.” The case ca me up on the following IVednesday, and it was Friday before Miss Tarkington was called. I confess to a burning curiosity mean- while as to the new developments she would probably make, and the sensation in the court when she made her appearance upon the witness- stand was scarcely less intense. She told her story succinctly, and here it is: " I knew Blaine Doliner very well. He was in my brother’s employ and came frequently to the Hill, generally With some. business matter for an excuse, but lingered, whenever he could, to talk With me. I was just home from school. and en— gaged to marry a gentleman much older than myself. After I became acquainted with Mr. Dolmer, the idea of this alliance became very dis- tasteful to me. Blaine was my lover in secret, and I encouraged his advances: I met him by appointment on that night, and we arranged to elcpe together during the week. After he left me I remembered something I Wished to say to him. and hurried in the direction he had taken, confident of overtaking him soon. Near the spot where the body was found, I was arrested' by the sound of voices. and heard my own name mentioned: I recognized the speaker as the pris- oner, Rodney Ackerman. “ He was reproaching Blaine for playing false to another girl, and sand some things not very ‘ complimentary to me. It was the first I had known of another love-affair, though Mr. Ack- erman assumed otherwise and Blaine did not correct him. Hesaid in effect that I had thrown myself at his head, and, being a better match than Lutie Ardell, he had thought it worth while to pick me up. That cured me of my passion on the instant, but it incensed Mr. Ackerman. He threatened that he Would force Blaine to confess his dastardly conduct to both those girls, mean- ing Miss Ardell and myself, and finally he threw his revolver toward Blaine, saying: “ ‘ Here, take it and blow out your own con- temptible brains before I am tempted to do it for on. “ Blaine picked it up with an oath, ‘ By Hea- ven, 1 will!’ and actually did it, on the impulse of the moment I do believe,while smarting under the sense of the humiliation which would inevita- bly foll0w his exposure. He committed suicide, yes! I.was stunned for the moment; when I looked again Mr. Ackerman had gone. I went on then to where Blaine lay. He was quite dead: I gave no alarm, but carried the pistol away with me that it might tell no tales. I did not appear at the inquest, for I Wished to avoid notoriety, and I thought the prisoner would clear himself by telling his own story; when it came to the last, of coursed could not see him sacrifice his life when I had it in my power to save him." Well, she did save him, to the detriment of her own prospects, for, knowing the robable result of that public confession, she ha dismissed her elderly suitor, thus leaving him no opportunity to drop her. There were people who made out that Rhode Tarkington was a heroine, for the part she had taken, but her friends were scandalized, and I could only see in her a willful person quite equal to holding her own with them. I was more interested in the efiect which all this would have upon Lutie. I waited three days to give her time to recovor from the news before I called upon her, and then was shown in- to the parlor to wait for her coming. Voices that In the middle of the service I 7 ‘ a..- N-‘A were faintly audible drew nearer, and I looked l “ Oh! I care nothing for his rudeness to me, through th - window to see Lutie pausing with her hand on the arm of Rodney Ackerman and her eyes lifted to his. “ It was not on her account,” he was saying, and they stood so close to the open window that every word came to my ears. “ I overheard their plan to e10pe, but I only thought of the pain it would bring to you. The true story of his death see-med too improbable to offer in my own defense: no one would ban believed it coming from my lips, and of course I knew nothing oi her ability to corroborate the facts. I was almost willing to die to save you the pain of knowing him false to you.” “ And you really don’t think I was to blame, Rodney? “ No more than the ghost of your grandmoth- er, my dear, and I don’t believe that she has power to bring misfortune upon us now.” And she hadn’t, for little Mrs. Ackerman‘s husband still lives after the lapSe of years, and I haVetlong since recovered from that disappoint men . A REALIZATION. BY CLARENCE P. CRANE. Yes. I know I am tvn-uty to-morrow, And I fain Would forget the fact, For I cannot: but think with sorrow That lost years never come back. I’ve lived in a “ramshackle " manner In a land of delightful haze, \Vhere activity‘s iron hammer Disturbs not the idler's ways. From fortune‘s fickle ocean Barks have touched on this dreamy shore, But I slept under pleasure's potion In sight of reallty’s door. I called on a friend to borrow A novel to while away time, - And she said: “ You are twenty to-morrow,” And I cannot get rid of the line. Yes, I know I am twenty tomorrow, Yet I fain would forget the fact. For I cannot but think with sorrow That lost years never come back. The Felon Brand; THE UNMASKIN G OF LUCIFER. BY K. F. HILL, AUTHOR or “SARAH BROWN, narncrivn,” ETC. ————- 0 CHAPTER XXII. FRANK snriioca‘s PROMISES Miss Goanox’s liking for Mr. Seymour grew stronger day by day, and it seemed reciprocated, for the Englishman spent an hour or two in her parlor daily. He had made every effort to learn whether there was any truth in a report that reached him that the man be was in search of had left South America for New York, and finally came 'to the conclusion that the story was Without foundation. He then determined to start for the Argentine Republic. “1 shall have to beguile him to some place with which we have an extradition treaty,” he said, in conversation with/Miss Gordon, “for I cannot lay one finger on him while he is in Buenos Ay res. ” . “ I wish y0u would attend to some businem f0r me While you are in that p'crtion of the world,” said Miss Gordon, and she related the story of her nephew’s homecoming, and her doubts and fears. To her intense disappointment Mr. Seymour’s n inion was identical with that f Mr. Dalton. I e could not understand why she suspected Frederic of being an impostor. “ His strange English accent,” she pleaded. “Well, my dear lady, be accounted for that in a reasonable way." “ But the idea of his failing to recognize Bea- trice’Maybray, when he was madly in love with her.’ “ Which proves nothing: he had forgotten her, or she has changed.” “ Oh! you men are all alike. So very dense,” exclaimed the old lady, indignantly. “Oh! you ladies are all alike, so very fanci- ful,” answered Seymour, laughingly. ‘ “Well, I am surei This is the first time in my life I was called fanciful.” “ My dear Miss Gordon, I shall not just as if your suspicions were founded on all sorts of evi- dence; candidly speaking, I do not like your nepheW." “I thought as much,” said the old lady, tri‘ umphantl y. “No; he looks to me like a man whose past history preyed upon his mind.” “Just so, and my poor Fred was as open as daylight, dear fellow.” Tears stood in her clear blue eyes or her visitor would have felt tempted to laugh. He thought to himself: _ “ She detests and loves the same man.” “ And you promise me solemnly to make every inquiry for my nephew?” she resumed, after a ‘.‘ I have a detective down there as I told you, but I cannot for the life of me tell what he is about. I hear nothing, and the suspense drives me wild.” 4 “ Probably he is waiting till he has something of importance to communicate,”suggested Sey- mour. “ ()hl I’d be glad to hear the merest trifle.” “ Well, I shall keep you informed of every move I make. By the Way I wonder if your nephew can give me some letters of introduction to parties there.” ' “Stay to dinner and ask him. home to-day for a Wonder.” “ I have one letter which I think may prove useful; it is to a Spaniard, Signor Madura, who resides near Bumos Ayres.” Frederic Gordon dined at home, and he made an effort to be very polite to Mr. Seymour, but it was evident that it was an exfort. “ By the way, Mr. Gordon,” began the English- man, “ I am bound for the portion of the world Where you spent Some years." “ Indeed I” Frederic looked startled and hastily drank a glass of wine. “ Yes, I am off to BuenOS Ayres. Can you give me any introductions to parties there?” “ No,” said Gordon, in a hoarse tone, so abrupt- ly, that Mi