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" Never!” and the beautiful eyes burned deli~

and?

“ ou put on a bold face, fair girl, for one at
the mercy of a wicked man, who fears neither
man or the devil.”

“ Never shall your touch pollute me, even
tough your crimes haw won you the name of
Devil Dick,” she said, scornfully.

“ And who will prevent?”

“ 1 will.”

The two words, spoken in a deep, stern voice,
brought a glad cry from the lips of Violet Vas.
car, and a. smothered oath from Devil Dick,
who wheeled quickly, his hand upon his re-
volver butt. to discover, standing in the mouth
of a ravine, not ten feet distant, a tall form,
with rifle leveled at his heart.

It was the Man of the Iron Face, and his man-
nor and words were ominous, for he said:

“I have the drop on you, pard, so throw up
your hands, or I fire.”

CHAPTER XXII.
cnasnn nr burn.

AT the stern order of the Man of the Iron
Face, for Dick Harwood to “throw up his
hands,” that personage saw that there was but
one alternative to escape instant death, and
that was to obey.

He was a man who took desperate chances
with his life; but here he knew there was no
chance to take, it was certain death to refuse.

D' he obey, the Man of the Iron Face would
onl hold him as a pinch“, and he had been in
durance vile often fore, and been taken can
of by his namesake, Satan, so he said in an in-
different tone:

“ You speak the truth pard; you have the
d on me, so up go my ands.”

7?; held them above his head as he spoke, but
his quick eye was read to take the slightest
advantage, should Iron ace lower his rifle, for
he knew that few men could draw and fire a
revolver as quickly as he could.

But though nothing could be seen behind that
iron face tojndicate that its Owner suspected
Devil Dick of treachery, it is certain that he
was suspected, for Iron Face walked straight
toward his prisoner, his rifle still pointed at is
heart, and only stopped when the muzzle

his breast

 

“Now, sir, I will clip the Tiger‘s claws,” said
the Man of the Iron Face, at the same time re-
lieving Dick Harwood of the revolvers and
knife in his belt, and placing them in his own.

Havin done this, he dropped his rifle, and
seizing e uplifted hands in both his own, in
spite of the great strength of the bandit lieu—
tenant, he bent them down. as a man would a
child’s, and forcing them behind him, a sudden
click, click was heard.

“ Curses upon you! you have ironed me,”
cried Dick Harwood, turning pale.

“True, you have a pair of bracelets on that I
carried for other wrists, but they will serve in
this case very well; now, sir, I wish to aid you
to mount.”

Iron Face led the wa to where the prisoner's

horse was feeding, whi e Violet, to whom not a
word had been spoken, and who stood like one
mkening from a hideous nightmare, gazed on
in silence.
' With an exhibition of his wonderful strength
Iron Face placed his prisoner in the saddle and
then with rawhide thongs, quickly tied his
feet beneath his horse, after which he turned to
Violet, and said. pleasantly:

“ Now, Miss Vassar, it will give me pleasure
to escort you back to camp.”

“ Oh, sir, what do I not owe to you?” she
cried, and with her words came 8. fl of tears,
as she grasped the hand of Iron Face.

“ I owe more to you, Miss Vassar, for through

our courage in taking this long ride, I have
been enabled to run to earth a man whom I
have suspected as a villain since I first met him
with your train; but come, danger may yet lie
before us, so I would 'not tarry here.”

Housed by his words, Violet dried her eyes,
and was lifted in his strong arms and placed in
her saddle, after which Iron Face secured the
steed of Dick Harwood with his lariat, and the
three turned their horses’ heads campward, the
Scout and the maiden riding side by side, and
the animal, with his bound master, trotting
along behind.

As if forgetting the scene he had just passed
through, the Man of the Iron Face began to en-
tertain Violet with stories of the border, and so
brilliant a talker did she find him, so soft and
winning was his voice, and about him hung such
amystery, that the maiden became more and
more interested in him, and felt in her heart
that she would ive much to see what lay be

neath that iron ace.

But, as they rode along Violet noticed that
the Man of the Iron Face cast frequent glances
around them, and that he had some cause of
alarm she kuo w and was convinced when he 9 .id:

“ Come, let us urge our horses on. Miss Vas-

n

“ Is there an enemy in sight, sir 5" she asked,
somewhat anxiously.

“Yes,” was the short reply, and it caused
both Violetand Dick Harwood to glance behind.

What they saw blanched both faces. and
Devil Dick called out in thrilling tones:

“ An enemy, yes! the prairie 18 on fire ."'

By common consent the three horses now
bounded forward, for suddenly around the
ridge of bills, or rather through a vale-like
opening that divided it, came a towering col-
umn of flame and smoke, like some huge, fiery
serpent rushing across the prairie.

" The wind is behind us, and blowing strong:
we must ride for it,” said the Man of the Iron
Face, calmly, and leaning over he grasped Vio-
let’s bridle-rein, and awaysped the three horses.

Violet, as pale as death, for her mind was full
of the stories of prairie flreihwas still calm and
kept her rcseuce of mind, ough she felt that
she won] undergo any danger, could she but- see
the Expression on the face beneath that iron
ma

3

“If I could only see his face I would read
what is to be our fate; but now I have little
hope, for, fast as my horse is, yonder roaring
flames come faster," she murmured, and an-
other glance bebind showed her that the fire
had reached the prairie this side of the ridge,
and was now extending its flaming legions on
either side, to grasp the whole prairie in its
burning embrace.

From the torrents of fire rolling irresistibly
on, she looked at the face of the prisoner, and
her eyes met his .

His face was pale, yet upon his lip was an ex-
pression of recklessness, and seeing her look he
said sneeringly:

“Well, sweet Violet, had you accepted my
offer, your fair form would escape yonder de-
vouring flame, for I tell you there is no hope

for you or an of us.”
“An I tel you, air, that ou lie,” was the
calm retort of t e Man of the ma Face.

“Hal you fling the lie in the teeth of a
prisoner; it is cowardly."
“It is not as coward y as your conduct to an
innocent girl you held in our wer, and I re-
t, when now you woud ta 9 from her all

0 that on lie, for there is hope for her."
m l:I’here n lies it?” insolently respon .Zed Devil

c .

“ In flight."

“ We are now going as fast as our horses can
caer us, and yonder flames are overtaking us
ra i ly—‘sesl my horse is failing now.”

‘ I said not there was for you.”

The words and manner 0 the Scout drew the
eyes of the prisoner and of Violet upon him, for
what could is strange re y mean?

And even Devil Dick f t a tremor of horror,
as he asked:

" What mean youl”

“That your horse is falling rapidly; see, he
stumbles now.”

“And would you leave me here in irons to
die a. death so fearful?” cried the now thorough
ly frightened outlaw.

“ I cannot save you, but I will not he unmar-
clful.” and Iron Fuse dropped back alongside the
straining horse ridden by his prisoner, and re-
leased the larlat from his bit, and then, taking
a ke from his pocket, he removed the iron

 

" I would perhaps be merciful to put a bullet
through your brain, and doubtless, if you es-
cape, 1 Will regret not doing so; but you are
free; go where you please.”

But though freed of his irons the outlaw felt
no desire to part company at such a time, and
With lash and spur urged on his struggling
steed.

But to no purpose; the noble animal had
taxed his strength too far, and was totteriu
badly at every bound, while the blood stream
from his nostrils.

A few more bounds and down he went, and
the Man of the Iron Face half drew up his
horse, as though in mercy; but a cry from Vio—
let recalled his attention to her, and he saw
that her steed, too, must soon go down, and
then the outlaw was left to his fate, standin in
the path of the bowling, roaring. crack ing
flames like one gone mad with fright.

One glance behind and they saw him stand-
ing thus, his hands over his face, as though to
shut out the sight of death in its most hideous
form, and then they sped on; but alas! weak-
ened from abject fear, the high-st rung animal
ridden by Violet was swaying wildly, and the
Man of the Iron Face saw that be, too, must go
down, and the look on the maiden’s face showed
that she, too, realized the awful truth in all its
horror.

( To be continued—commenced in No. 573.)

An Ambitious Girl;
She Would  an Actress.

BY A CELEBRATED ACTRESS.

CHAPTER XXXII.
a BRPUTATION BLASTED.

Or course the coach rolling through the
streets attracted no rticular attention, al-
though a few people w 0 were acquainted with
the politician were somewhat astonished at be-
holdiug him perched up upon the box of the
hack alongside of the driver.

At the police court the party were ushered
into the presence of the presiding jud e who
had just taken his seat- to proceed With the
morning work.

The entrance of the party created a little tip—
ple of excitement, for the ma'or was about as
well known as any man in t e town, and the
young actress, during her brief stay in Porko-
polis, had managed to create quite a sensation,
and therefore, when she and her male compan~
ion entered the court-room in the custody of of—
ficers, evidently as prisoners char ed with some
offense, and the major followe in the rear
with the look of an accuser upon his face. ex-
pectation was upon tip-toe.

The officers conducted their prisoners to the
prison-pen, where a herd of ragged, dirty, un-
savory wretches were alread ’ gathered—the
vile fish who had been scoops in by the police
nets on the previous evening.

But, although a hot flush swept over the face
of the oung actor as he and his companion
were p aced in the same compartment with
these wretched pariahs of society, the girl’s
natural dignity never deserted her, and she
seemed totally oblivious of the disgusting na—
ture of her surroundings, and when a miserable,
bleareyed old man, still laboring under the in-
fluence of his last night’s debauch, moved along
on the rude bench so as to give her room, she
thanked him as politely as though he had been
the greatest gentleman in the land and she the
poorest and humblest beggar.

The presiding judge betrayed considerable as-
tonishment when this unexpected pair of cul-
prits made their appearance, and looked curi~
ously at the major as if to ask what it all
meant. U n entering the court the politician
had nodd to the presiding official with the air
of an old friend.

This judge, as the major well knew, was a
disgraceto the court wherein he sat—a petty,
contemptible partisan, who as a lawyer would
not have been able to earn ten dollars a week,
but. thanks to our peculiar system, which drags
the judicial ermine through the mire of poli~
tics, his ascent to a judgeship had been easy.

And no man had a better hold 0'.) him than
Major Clutterbuck, therefore, in deference to
his “ patron,” he called the case at once.

A plain, straightforward story the politician
told. and though both the accused knew full
well how utterly false was the tale, yet they
were really astonished at the air of truth which
he contrived to impart to it.

He had a country’houSe out on the “ pike.”
the major said, very sumptuously fitted and
with a great m-my valuable articles in it. The
house he had closed for the winter and it was
unoccupied. During the previous week he had
been warned by a certain party that he had
better keep his eyes upon his property as one of
t1.e actors attached to the o era house across the
Rhine h d mid that it won d be a deuced good
joke to get into his—the majors—house, and
raid the wine-cellar, it being a well—known fact
that he had about the finest stock of wines of
any man in the country. Of course he had not
taken any particular notice of this, thinking
that it was merely an idle joke. only he had
made up his mind to warn the oflicer in charge
of the district, and request him to keep a vigi-
lant eye upon the premises He had attended
the performance at this same opera house
'where the young man was playing who had
suggested the raid upon his wine-cellar, the re-
vious night, and after the entertainment (1
been driven to his hotel. He had gone to bed,
but at an early hour in the morning had been
awakened by one of the hotel servants with the
intelligence that a hackmau desired to see him
upon important business and must have an in-
terview at once. He had granted the request
and upon meeting the man was informed by
him that he had driven a lady to a lonely house
out on the pike, and after she had got out she
had paid him and said she did not need his ser-
vices an longer. At first he had not thought
much a ut the matter, but as he drove off
he noticed that the lady remained upon the
stoop and did not attempt to enter the mansion;
the place, too, was all closed up, not a gleam of
light- showing—looking as if it was totally ds—
sorted. As he had driven back to the city in
the rain he had reflected upon the singular mat-
ter, and then it flashed upon him- that he had
once heard that the house belonged to Major
Clutterbuck, and that nobody ever lived there
except in the summer time. Of course there
might not be anything in it, but he thought it
wouldn’t be an harm to come and speak about
the matter. he major then went on to say
that his suspicious were excited, for the driver
had informed him that he had taken the lady
from the back door of the opera house across
the Rhine, the same theater where the young
man was employed who had thought it would
be a good idea to raid his wine-cellar. He
had roceeded instantly to ascertain if the
raid End taken place, taking two officers with
him, and the result was that, when the front
door was opened, this man and woman were
discovered in the hall, reparinglto go out and
evxdently having pas the big t there in com-

v.
paBuoldly and broadly the major made this
statement, and now for the first time both Mal-
lory and the young actress understood the ter-
rible nature of the reven e which the man had
lanued. He desired to last the reputation of
he girl forever, for, of course, all the details of
the trial would be ublished, for your “local
reporter ” is a ho who licks hungry lips at
bare thoughts 0 such a feast as this would he.
The very walls seemed to swim before the
outraged girl’s glazed e es: her lips were
parched; the breath came 0t and heavy, and
if she did not swoon upon the instant it was be-
cause her firm, indomitable will was stronger
than her weak nature, and kept her up.
As for the young actor, the veins upon his
temple swelled out near to burstin as be com-
prehended the full force of the fun accusation.

 

 

 

 

ban cuffs from his wrists, saying quietly:

With great difficulty be restrained himself from

i springing up and denouncing the fiendish lie,
l but he knew that his turn \Vullld come next to
tell the story, and that would put rather a dif-
ferent face upon the matter.

But the major wound up by sayin that the
hackman, who had driven the la y in the
coach, was in court, and was prepared to ts-
tify, also, that the young man who had warned
him that a raid was to be made upon his wine-
cellar, would give his evidence.

Then came the hackman-the very same who
had helped to play the shameful trick upon the
girl; she recognized him in an instant—and he
smacked his lips on the Bible, and swore to the
outrageous lie as though it had been all gospel
truth.

And the man who followed him the girl r3-
cognized immediately, also; it was the shabby-
genteel fellow, v.ho had waylaid them when
she and Sara Pearl had emerged from the back
door of the theater, and had requested the favor
of a private interview with Sara, thus giving
the hackmau a chance to drive off with her
without detection.

And this fellow swore as fluently to the cou—
versation which he said had occurred between
himself and the young actor, Gordon Mallory—
he called him by name as if he had known him
as well as a brother, although Mallory was cer-
tain that he had never set e es on the rascal be-
fore. He described how t 9y had met- in the
saloon, in the front of the theater, and how,
casually, he had mentioned Major Clutterbuck’s
country-seat, and had remarked that he would
like to be turned loose in the wine-cellar for a
little while. The actor at once had manifested
a great interest in the subject, and had ques-
tioned him closely regarding the mansion. He
was well posted on the subject, for he had been
employed for a time as the major’s private sec-
retary, and, at great length, he had explained
to the other all about the house, never thinking
that he wanted to know for any other reason
than pure curiosity; but, upon recalling the
conversation, and t inking the matter over, the
impression had come to him that something
more than mere curiosity was at the bottom of
the matter, and he thought it was only right to
go to the major and explain the whole affair,
which he did.

By the time this fellmv got through with his
testimony the actor began to see that, thanks
to the unblushing manner in which the hack-
man and the other rascal had sworn to their
story, the major had made out a pretty strong
case, and against it he and Miss Bel had nothing
but their bare word. ‘

The instant the fellow left the stand the
major was on his feet again.

“ Your honor,” he began, “ I begin to think
that l have been a little hasty in this matter
but I didn’t rightfully understand the affair. I
supposed of course that the design of the tres—
Eassers was to damage my property, but if I

ad supposed that, as it now a pears, it was
on] a little love-affair and not ing more ”—
au here the rascal beamed smilingly upon the
unhappy couple who were angry enough to
have strangled him where he stood, “why, I
would not have called in the aid of the law,
but, on the contrary, would have forgiven the
trespass.”

Here a very audible snicker went round the
court-room, and even the grave face of his
honor, the judge, showed traces of a smile,
while the young actor grew scarlet with rage
and the young girl white with shame.

“ And so if you please, your honor," said the
major, in conclusion, “ I have no desire to press
the complaint.”

The judge bowed with becoming gravity; ass
though he was, be yet perceived that there was
somethin back of all this: but he wanted to
stand we 1 with the major, who was such a
power in local politics, and he understood that,
for reasons of his own, the politician wanted the
matter dropped.

“ Very well, just as you say; if you do not
care to press the matter I will end the case
right here,” and then he turned to the prison—
ers. “You have got off ver easily indeed;
this gentleman mig t have ma 6 it very serious
for you if he had chosen to push this thing; and
the next time that you makes love appoint.
meut take my advice an-l don’t break into a
gentleman’s house. You are discharged. Next
case!”

But, Mallory was on his feet in an instant.
He comprehended the major’s game. He had
given his side of the story; at one fell stroke he
had blackened the girl’s reputation, and by this
clever disposal of the case ad cut off all oppor-
tunity for them to tell their tale.

“ Your honor, will you allow me to protest
most respectfully against this disposal of the
case? We deny this man’s story, and these two
witnesses who have testified are nothing but pox--
jmcd liars which we will prove if we are al-
lowed a chance.”

“ “’hat more do you want, young man?- You
are discharged!" cried the judge, impatiently.
" That is just the same as being declared inno-
cent, isn’t it! You are di~charged, free to de-
part, sir. Your case in this court is ended.
Come, bring u the next case!”

The court—o ‘cers hustled a poor, unfortunate
wretcll of a drunkard forward, and Mallory,
perceiving that the fates were against them
drew the arm of the girl within his own, an
they left the court room—the temple of justice,
so-called; but what a horrid mockery that appel-
lation had been that day! They had found
only the most shocking perversmn of justice
within its precincts!

They proceeded straight to the hotel, the girl
more like a statue than a living, breathing wo-
man.

Sara received them with open arms, but
hardly had the young actress entered the room
than she fainted dead away. The excitement
had been toomuch even for her brave will.

Sara raised her in her stron arms and placed
her upon the sofa, and while 5 e was endeavor-
inz to revive the fainting girl, Mallory related
all that had taken place.

“Well, there is only one thing to be done
now,” Sara cried, with that determination which
was so strong a part of her nature: “ her char-
acter is utterly ruined, for this terrible affair
will be in all the newspapers, sure, and the
world is always ready enough to believe evil of
an actress-only one thing to be done, sir, and
that is for you to do. You must marry her!”

CHAPTER XXXIII.
NELL RICHMOND AGAIN.

THE face of the young actor became very
grave, and Sara looked at him with an anxious
expression upon her features.

“ You need not hesitate about the matter,
Gordon," she said; “ I know that you love the
girl, and Heaven knows she loves you, although
she has never breathed a word in re rd to that
love to me, but I suspected it from c flrst;——in
fact, I do not believe she ever admitted that
such a assiou existed even to herself, but the
love is in her heart all the same; I know it is;
and, Gordon Mallory, if you are the man 1
think you are, you will restore to this pure soul
the good name that this evil-minded Villain has
contrived to tarnish. And, Gordon, she needs a

rotector, she is not fit for this life of ours. She
Ea beautiful girl. but she has not got the ‘ act’
in hr, and she will never make anything on the
stage, despite her face, figure and voice, if she
stays on the boards until she is gray. I felt
sure of that, long ago, but I hated to sa so. It
ix the truth, though; take her then, an with a
man’s strong arm guard her from the evils
which will be sure to follow close upon her foot-

if she keeps upon the stage."

a young actor’s head had sunk down upon
his breast, but now he mined it slowly, and look-
lug Sara full in the eye made answer with a
voice trembling with emotion:

“ Sara, I believe you are right—I believe the
girl does care for me; but, there is an obstacle
between us—not one which will prevent us from
being married, but which may rise up and try
to separate us after we are married."

“Strike it down!” cried the actress, with '
imperious gesture: “ strike it down and put your
foot. upon it! That is the way to triumph over
obstacles. If you can honestly marry this poor

 

 

 

 

child-” you are free to wed her, do so in

 

: Heaven‘s name! Let the ceremony take place I

at once; everything can be easily arranged, if
you will attend to it, and then a report of your
marriage and a card signed by you, denouncing
this rascal as a liar and a villain will appear in

which will contain an account of the dreadful
affair, so that the poison and the antidote will
be taken together.”

“ I will, by Heaven! 1 will, despite all come
quences, no matter what they may be!” be ex—
claimed.

“Spoken like a maul Gordon, 1 honor you
for the noble act, and may both of you be as
happy as you deserve to be. See! she is reviv-
ing! The moment she recovers I will leave you
together. ldo not doubt that she will refuse
you at first, for she is terribly sensitive and ex-
tremely proud, but you are the one man in this
world to whom her girlish heart has turned,
and if you are persistent and will not take ‘ no ‘
for an answer, you will win her."

As Sara had said, the girl was slowly reviv-
ing, and when she had recovered sufficiently to
sit u , upon frets-nae of oing for a glass of wa~
ter 5 c with rew from e apartment, leaving
the two together.

With all the ardor born of a pure and fervent
love the young man told his passion, and, as
Sara had antici ted, at first Helen hesitated:
she feared the 0 er was rompted by generosity,
not love—that, in a nob e spirit, Mallor ' wished
to remove the stain the wily major ad con-
trived to fix upon her fair fame.

Earnestly the young lover combatcd this
idea, and he told the maid how he had fallen in
love with her in the little New Jersey village,
and had loved her ever since, his passion in-
creasing with each new day.

At last she consented :—what maiden so coy
as not to yield to love’s soft summons, when the
right man speaks!

And when Sara came back2 she perceived
that the young actor had told his " ft tale and
was a thriving wooer.”

Gordon acquainted her with the lens. and
with characteristic decision Miss Pe ldcclared
that the sooner the union took place t e better,
and urged the necessity of haste with so much
fervor that Helen was fain to consent.

The minister was sent for, and then, in the
presence of Sara, and another witness only, the
pair were married.

But hardly had the clerical gentleman depart
ed, when, with a scornful, forbidding smile upon
her features, Nell Richmond opened the door and
came stalking into the 100m. Mallory s rung
at once to his feet, his face white, and a t reat-
enin look in his eyes.

He en looked up in amazement, but Sara un-
derstood that the obstacle of which the young
actor had spoken had already arisen, and now
she asked herself the question—would Mallory
follow her advice, strike it down, put his foot
upon and crush it, and if he attempted. would
he be able to accom lish the feat?

Pausing before elcn, Nell Richmond made
her a low courtesy, but it was plainly in muck-
ery.

“ If you please, miss, I have come after my
husband,” she said, in the most impudent man-
ner ssible.

“ our husband!” and Helen, starting to her
feet, confron' ed the other like a liagedy queen.

“ Yes, my husband, whom you have just had
the pleasure of marrying—that man, Gordon
Mallory!” and she shook her outstretched finger
at that Iglentleman, but he did not quail in the
least. e had at last made up his mind to
adopt the course which he ought to have taken
years ago; now he was about to follow Sara’s
advice, confront and beat down the evil spirit
which had troubled him for so long.

The young actress turned her beautiful eyes
upon her newly-made husband; she had perfect
faith that he could explain matters.

“ My husband!” re ated the woman, in the
most spiteful manner possible: “let him deny
it if he dares !"

“ lVell. I do dare,” the young actor answered,
calmly. “ I am not your husband; you are not
my wife; you have not the slightest legal claim
on me and never had."

“ Were you not married to me, married by a
minister in Chicago just the same as you have
been married to this woman today’s"

“ A marriage ceremony was performed be—
tween us; as a boy I was entrapped by you an
old and artful woman of the world, but, hardly

 

informed by a woman who was once your
bosom friend, but with whom you had quar-
reled, that you had a husband in England, and
she showed me a letter from him, in which he
upbraided you for your cruel descriion, but

were gone and that he hoped never to see you
again.”
"A lying forgery!" almost shrieked the Wo-

eveu if you could. you have no proof that it was
true.”

"Do you challenge me to the contest, tlxcn.’
Although i have not the letter the name signed
to it is still fresh in my memory. The letter
came from London, England.
enough to write to London and see if a man still
resides in that city by the name of Jeremiah
Kiulan.”

so freely !” cried a voice, as a man pushed open
the only partially closed doox and came into
the room.

With a cry of anger Nell Richmond clinched
her hands together until the nails fairly cut
into the flesh.

“'hat strange accident had brought this man
clear across the stormy ocean's

CHAPTER XXXIV.
HADA AND HALAH.

BEHIND this first man came a second. The
attentive reader will probably remember the
two men who, in an early chapter of our tale,
tracked the blacksmith to his last resting place,
and then, like baffled sleuth-hounds, nosed
around the grave, eager to hit on a fresh trail—
Archibald Posilwaite and Jeremiah Kiulan.
And they had found a fresh trail, after a time—
a trail which led them from the frozen North to
the sunny South; but it was broken again by a
second grave. This time, however, there was a
well-defined clew left, so that they could follow
their pursuit ra idly.

The recognitlon between the woman, Nell
Richmond, and the man, Jeremiah Kinlan, was
mutual.

 

she sta gered back, astounded.

And ecried out, loudly:
“Why, Sal! If it ain’t Sal, blow my but-
tons!”

Gordon Mallory was quick to improve the op-
portunity. _
“ This is your wife, Mr. Kiulan, I believe!”

e said.

“Well, I don’t want her, sir; I ain’t making
any claim to her; if any other fool has got his
books onto her, he can just hold fast for all that
I care,” the man replied. “She cut her lucky
and hooked it across the herring-pond a good
man years ago, and I have enjoyed peace and
com ort ever since, so I ain’t saying anything if
anybody else wants her.”

“ You brute! I wouldn’t live with you again if
you were made of diamonds l” and With an indig-
nant face, and eyes flashin fire, Nell Richmond
swept from the room, an no one therein ever
saw her a ain.

“ There s a catamaran for you!" the English

detective muttered.

“I don't wonder ou joined the force ” the
other one exclaim . “A woman like that is
enough to make an man des rate.”

And, now that t is distur in element was

ne, the two detectives, for hot of them were
amous Scotland Yard men, explained their
business. .

They sought a certain Halal) Kunibell, daugh»
tor of Sabban and Rachel Kunibell.

With a smile the young actress acknowledged
that that was her name.

And now, not to weary the patience of the
reader, but to “come at once to Hecuba,” as
the dashing Miss Pearl would have said, we

 

 

 

 

will not give the til'ttsnlne explanation of the
detectives, each of whom has employed bv a
different lawyer, cage-1‘ to find the heir and
enjoy the fat pickings which would attend the

. xcare. of the vast pioperty left by old Ronald
the very same newspapers, tomorrow morning, '

Kunibell, Haiah’s grandfather; a few words tell
the strange story of the Kunibeli family.

Ronald Kunibell, the father of Sabban, had
risen by his own exertion from a poor man in
the possession of one of the finest t-hllll'ts in the
north of England. He was in the lion trade.
and his vast works covered acres of giouml.
Like many another man who has risen lrcm tin-
ranks, this self-made iron-merchant was ten
times as proud as though he had inherited his
wealth. Sabbau was his only son. and he had set
his heart upon a marriage between him and the
daughter of a rather decay ed nobleman. nlio
possessed an estate in the neighborhood, hut the
son had also a mind of his own. and, to hi:-
father’s rage. he married a pl'vtt)’. but Luslmilc»
girl. the daughter of a small Slop-keeps! a ho
dwelt in the village nearby. Thia of canoe.
terribly enraged the father; a quarrel ensued
between the two: as a result the sun was driven
out into the world to seek his own in; lllllr.
Years passed on; two children were LOI i. to tl e
:01), but some sixteen years separated 'il:e tun;
and W hen the elder girl was atwut eighteen. she
with all the willfuluess which her father ha!
displayed, chose to fall in love with an Amen"
can tourist, who chanced to be passing >Ullle
time in the neighborhood, (lt‘SylLL‘ Ler father's
urgent commands never to dare to >pt'tllx' b.)
him. for her sire had, in some unaccuntablc
manner, taken a great dlrlllxt‘ lo the American.

But, the willl'uiness was in the blo-nl, and [ile-
girl one night fled from home. married lhe
American, and joln‘neyed u ith him to his home
across the sea.

The angry father discarded his r‘ll'lllg (laugh
for as thoroughly and utterly as his father.
years before, had discarded him. The nume of
the" disobedient girl was never spoken again in
that household. And, as misfortums never
come singly, ju-t about that time a strange fit
seized upon old Kunibell: if he had been a poor
man people would have called him mad. and
shut him up in a lunatic asylum, but, as he “'8:
so rich, the world said he was " eccentric," and
he did as he liked. The peculiar form of his.
madness lay in a most violent hatred to h'b
son, and with almost diabolical cunning he con.
trived all sorts of devices, to annoy him. until
at last- the persecution became :0 great that the
son was obliged to fly with his family and house-
hold good:: he put the sea between him and his
mad parent, but, even when buried, as it were.
in the little country hamlet, he feared lost the
madman should seek him out: and this was the
secret of Kunibell.

But, just before the blacksuith died, the great
iron merchant passed away. In his last mo—
ments sanity returned, and he strove to repair
his cruel injustice by leaving all his vast prop»
erty to the son whose life he had imbittered.
The agents, though, who came across the sea,
found that the son had only survived his father
by a few days, and then they set out to find the
daughter, Hada. But, to get upon her track.
they had to seek back again to England. There
they discovered the name of the tourist who
had won the girl; and in the new world thev
easily ran him down; but he was dead, too, and
his widow, the hapless Hilda, a madwoman:
the insanity was in the fmuily, and would come
out at times. Mrs. Thomas Beaufort- 0gb»
tliorpe, she was, her husband the 0an son of
the late Judge Oglethorpe, a descendant of one
of the oldest Southern families. The judge’s
widow was still living, and being deVUtedly‘ at—
tached to the unfortunate Hada, titted up a suit
of apartments in her mansion. and employed
suitable attendant-s to care for her.

And it was this unfortunate being, apparently
perfectly sane at. times, nlio had played such
strange tricks as related in the first part of our
stor .

Shortly after her capture by the Professor
and his assistants, just as they reached the old
family mansion in the South, Hadn suddenly

 

|
l
l
l
I
i

had the ceremony been performed when I was 7
hnadwmnan lfad taken In her, too.
a plain lo the Professor.

sickened. and, despite all that care and money

, could do, died.

The detectives reached the place just after

Q, the funeral; and now, since the elder sister was

dead. they turned their attention to the younger
1 one, and upon questioning the Professor hc sud-
,denly remembered the young actress and the
I likeness which there was between her and hits.
Oglelliorpe. The strange interest Which the
was now
The young actress was

- the Slst ‘I‘.

winding up by saying that he was glad that you 9

And this clew the detectives followed up n it'u
happy results. Grand good news they brought
to the young girl: she was one of the richest
heiresses in England, and her brow struggle

' against povcl ty was at an end.

man; “you cannot produce that letter, and‘

“Well, Mr. Gordon Mallory. you can just
thank me for your good luck!" the olzt~pokeii
Sam exclaimed. after (’Ullgl’lllllllllllllm were
over. “ if it hadn’t been for my :ulvi: is you
would never have dared to open f. our month to
ask for your wife, and by the sum: t ken. Mrs.

K Mallory, you can thank me for him."

It will be easy 2

“I will lry and repay the Sf‘lvli‘“ by grilling

1 you n good husband, dear," the ,\ mm; girl l'L“
j piled, ill‘l'llly.

"Hallo, hallo, who is that a—using my name ‘

 

"Thank you; but when my time come.» 1 will
know it quick enough."

Our story is told; the career of the acuoss is
over; the reality had made the All’ezlill pass
away, and she no longer llungel'ed for the
empty glories of the. stage.

The moral is plain:—— no matter how great the
ambition, the laurel crown ol' the actress is hard
to gain, and half the time when it- is non it is
not worth the winning.

THE END.

 

 

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