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The Duke of Diamonds;
THE FLOWER or CALCUTTA.

A Story 01' Strange Lands and Seas.

 

BY CAPT. FRED’K WHITTAKER,

AUTHOR on “THE RED RAJAH,” “THE mien
CAPTAIN,” “THE LOST CAPTAIN,” ETC.

 

CHAPTER I.
1857.

THE sun of India blazes above the brown jun’
gle. The tiger crouches in the long sumut
grass; the buffalo hides in the pools and the
elephant has retired to the thicket shade: but
the city of Krishnapoor is all astir, like a hive
of bees.

Pale, stern faces of English soldiers, exultin
glances of Sikhs, and stolid indifference o

 

 

Ghoorkhas, show that mercy for a Hindoo is a
thing unknown to-day. The rebellion has fail-
ed; woe to the conquered!

In the s uare of the marketplace of Krishna-
poor stan s a brass nine-pounder, polished till
it gleams like burnished old. Neat and plain,
handsome and serviceab e, it braves criticism,
8. dandifled death-dealer, a ver Nero of guns.

The house-tops are crowde with people; a
dense mass of humanity blocks up every avenue
out of the square. All eyes are fixed on the soli-
tary gun and its neat detachment of English ar-
tillerymen, two by the muzzle, two by the trun-
nions, two by the train.

The orderly bugle sounds a clear shrill note
from a great white building at the side of the
square and all eyes turn thither.

Forth from the portals of this building comes
a strange rocession. In front a guard of
swarthy Sik s, dismounted, carrying razorslike
tu wars sloping over their shoulders. Then two
English soldiers with fixed ba onets, a pris-
oner between them; then more ikhs followed
b a large staff of English officers, who mount
at, the foot of the steps and ride out into the

 

s uare, following a tall, heav —bnilt man, in
diplomatic uniform, whom a recognize as
“the Resident.”

But it is not on him that the eyes of the pn—
lace are fixed. It is the prisoner who at racts
their attention; and a low wail of grief goes u
from thousands of throats as they see him ad?
vance.

A handsome man anywhere he is positively
magnificent now. Prisoner though 6 be, he
looks as if he were lord of all around him.

He was so only a few days ago, for this is none
other than the Rajah of Krishnapoor.

Prisoner or not, he is attired in robes of vel—
vet, heavy with gold embroidery and sown
with seed pearls, while the flash of jewels from
his collar, the bracelets on his bare, muscular
arms, the clasp of brilliants that su rte the
feather of his turban, would turn a ifth ave—
nue belle green with envy.

As proudly as if going to review his own
troops, the deposed Rajah stalks into the midst
of the silent square, straight up to the gun that
has been standing idle so long, and takes his
post before its muzzle.

 

“row on, in "can 18 am wrrn m AND Tm: CHILD, AND YOU .uun ammo. DOG, mwm, LIAB; THAT 13 MY msml”. 

 

2 _--

ml:‘:;::::__117;§17 _ I . . . .l _. , .

Meantime the Resident holds up his hand to
command silence and an officer reads out the
sentence of the Viceroy at Calcutta, that “the
Rajah of Krishnapoor, for high crimes and mis-
demeanors, be deposed from his kin dom and
blown from the cannon’s mouth in t e public

care of Krishnapoor. ”

he doomed rince smiles bitterly as he hears

the r , first in Hindoostanee, then in
Eng , and still more bitterly curls his lip
when the Resident asks in Hindoostanee:

“ Prisoner, have (you any cause to show why
this sentence shoul not be executed at once?’

The Ra ah laughs aloud as if in scorn as he
answers, good English, but strained and pe-
dl‘l‘mm f ta ' ' th t th

oesm ormer secre ry imagine a e

Rajah of Erishnapoor will condescend to ad-
r dress epithets of appreciation or requests for
the exercise of clemency to a person whom he
has raised from a beggar’s position? I am
here. Had you not deceived me by pretended
friendship you would never have entered in

capital while a man was alive to defend i .'

You have belied me to the Viceroy, for the sake
of my wealth: but I have taken precautions,
and all you will have is the worth of my gar-
ments. 1 am happy to ve you the hangman’s
fee my excellent rien .”

Then turning flercel y on the English artillery-

men he cried:

“Inad the gun! Will you keep me waiting
all day i”

The Resident is ghastly pale while the prisoner

s' but a covert smile is on the face of

more than one staff emcer as the bear the Hin-
doo prince, in his labored En ish, revile his
executioner. The Resident ma es a silent sig-
nal to the corporal of the gun, who immediate-
ly gives the word in a subdued tone, unlike the
usual hoarse shout of a British non-commission-
ed emcer:

“ Load with powder ! LOAD I”

Instantly the six statues round the nine-
‘pounder start into vigorous life, rushing at the
gun like madman, brandishing rammers, run-
ning to and from the limber till the flannel

wder- is in its place behind a heavy

uble w , and the men back in their old sta-

tions.

Then the corporal and sergeant, looking very
pale, advance to the Rajah, who has drawn out
a ' cent jeweled watch and is consulting
it wi apparent interest.

The prince remarks with the greatest suavity:

“Sergeant, I am glad to see you I am lad
they put you here for you wil do your 11
properly. Please do not hurt me with the cor s
more than necessary, and accept this watch as
a trifle from me.”

The sergeant grows paler than ever as he
takes the watch and mu ters with dry lips:

“ God help your honor to glory l”

The Raja turns to the corporal, still smil-

i .
nfi My friend, your detachment is not as quick
asits ould be. I have seen the artillerymen
of my guard load in three seconds less time
than you took. But then they had a Yankee
for captain and I am told that the Yankees
can always beat you Englishmen. Is that—”

“Tin ml 091’ interrupts the voice of the
Resident, in a perfect shout. His face, lately
so pole, is now p 19 with anger.

Tie him up an blow him to pieces, the black

traitor!”

There is a sort of shudder among the officers,

as he . They are not unused to these hor-
rible executions, but there seems to be some-
thing about this which shocks even men who
have followed the bloody track of Outram.
More than one scowls open] at the Resident,
who aflects not to see it, an continues:

“Do tyoour duty, sergeant, and turn in that
watch my head-clerk, after the execution.
You understand?”

The Irish sergeant salutes stifly, with a mut—

“Yes, sir.”

As for the Ra ah, he only laughs, as careless-
ly as ever, as t e two non-commissioned om-
csn, not 11 tly, lead him to the muzzle of the
piece and p, 00 him with his back against it,
While they attach his arms, with long cords, to
the cheeks of the gun-carriage. '

The hight of man and n, the position in
which he is secured, cause im to stand neaigy
erect. inclinln a little back, his face turned -
rectly to the laddent.
1mShe time has comehand even the stolti‘dtiartili

‘ -m com ress t eirli in expec one
the to hie drama to bepgnacted. Onl the
5 doomed cc, of all the assemblage. 100 as
calm as he were witnessing a play.

Then the Resident dismounts c 088 to him
and motions back the Eon-detachment. The
bystanders retire out of caring, and the Resi-
dent says, in low, hurried tones;

“Reflect, dasa I can save you, now.
Tell me the secret, and I will see your sentence

commuted.”
- The Rajah laughs aloud.
“ Why, you are a greater fool than I thought.
You cur, my secret is safe With Eifle and the
whammgheatcd. Dog, coward. bar;

The Duk

It is the last wild defiance of im tence
against injustice and even the Resident eels the
insult throu b all his armor of greed.

He starts k and raises his hand as if to
strike, but desists in very shame before an an.
dible hiss from the officers.

Then he motions forward the gun-party, and
ste s aside, watching the doomed prince with

ignant satisfaction.
The corporal takes the linstock in hand, trem-
bling likealeaf, and all fall back behind the
axle of the carriage.

The Rajah looks proudly before him, and cries
aloud, in English:

“Soldiers your chief is a cowardly assassin
and thief, w 0—”

“Fire I” almost shrieks the Resident.

' The corporal lowers the port-fire on the prim-

mg.

And then—

The Bisho of Calcutta enlarged his diocese
that year y sending a new miss‘onary to
Krishna r to convert the Pagan Hindoos to
the rcli on of love and forgiveness.

 

CHAPTER II.
1877

Bnionr shines the sun over the
waves of the Arabian Sea, through
stanch ship Benares, of the P. & 0. S. S. Co’s
line"I is plowing her steady, old-fashioned way.
The Benares plied from Bomba to Suez when
first the P. & O. S. 8. Co. had a ocal habitation
and a name, and she continues her voyage up
the Mediterranean ever since M. de Lesseps has
opened a way for her through the isthmus.

Under the striped-awning of the quarter-deck,
scattered about on camp-chairs, with abun-
dance of fans, are the passengers, a few ladies
returning from India, with a number of fur-
loughed officers and one or two civilians.

Quite a large group of men, with two of the
ship’s officers, are thered in an admirin cir-
cle around two ladies in the coolest part 0 the
quarter-deck. The ladies are Anglo-Indians;
one can see that at a glance. There isa lan—
_ idly insolent air about them that only be
ongs to the Englishwoman in India, with her
fifty black servants, more or less. The nearest
approach to this airof which Americans
are capable mig t have been seen in a rich New
Orleans Creole, thirty years ago, under the
slavery regime.

The oldest of the ladies now in question is of
uncertain age. She owns to twenty-five, and
has quite forgotten her birthday, though her
hair isstill as rown as ever, banged and friz-
zed into the latest style of “lunatic fringe,”
while her manners (when not addressing an in-
ferior) are kittenish in the extreme.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the Honorable
Lorelia Lawton, sister to the distin hed Sir
Lumle Lawton, whose services in ndia have
latel n rewarded with a baronetcy—though
Sir umle did not care for the honor; his elder
brother, rd Loughborough, being childless
and consumptive.

The young lady by her side, pale and bean-

ful as a Greek statue, is her niece, only; dau h-
ter of Sir Lumley and the toast of alf he
messes in India, as the “ Flower of Calcutta.”

“ Helen, my love,” begins aunt Lorelia, in her
kittenish way, “ I really must protest against
these afternoon levees on such fearfully hot days.
We are e to hold our own 'nst these
wicked men, who are practicing tty sayings
all the morning, when we’ve hardly strength
tolspea’l’i, at all— Fan harder, pig. Are you
as e

The last words are not in En lish, but deliv-
ered in Hindoostanee with muc energy to the
patient black punkah—wauah behind her. Like
man other Anglo-Indian ladies the Honorable
Lore ia keeps her Hindoostanee or abusive pur-

, and news very little of the language
ut how to scold.

The young lady by her side smiles in a lan-
guid, weary manner.

“Why not let them talk, auntyi It amuses
them, you know.”

There is a listlessly insolent air about Helen
Lawton that comes of too much petting and
flatte ; for she has been accustomed, ever
since e was fifteen, tolook on men, especially
oflicers, as a sort of upper servants for her
whims. She is not a bad girl by any means,
for she is naturally kind and gentle, but the
gentlest may be spoiled by irresponsible
power.

“Ah, Miss Helen could ye be as cruel as
that i” savs a rich oieaginous voice. “ Amuse!
us! And haven’t I been tr ing for two mortal
hours to amuse our beauti self 1”

The Honorab e Lorelia. strikes in with her

usual un giggle.

“ Why, Captain O’Shea! And I thought you
were t mg to please me.”

“ An why not?” asked the Irishman, a stout
jolly-looking personage in the braided frock oi
an officer 0 t eConti-ol Department (once Com-
missariat). “ Sure I’m like the high wayman in
theLpla , Miss Lawton, that could be happy with
eit er.

 

 

' Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company‘s
. running from England to Bombay via Sues.

rkling I
mch the

i‘flrDiamonds. ‘

n._.__._...-__._- .m _...I .~ .-

 

.4
I

“ Go away, you horrid immoral man. Then’s
no believm you Irishman, any more than the
French. ou’re all the same deceiving set.”

f‘Ah, now, Miss Lawton, don’t be classin’ us
With the French and all other foreigners. We’re
nearer to ye than the Yankees, anyway, and
ye don’t abuse them.”

“Because they say something when they
speak, Captain O’Shea,” remarks the younger
lady in her usual tone of Ian uid disdain; and
there is a general laugh at 0’ hea’s expense, in
which all join but a tall ‘oung fellow, who is
sitting on a stool at Mi elen 8 feet.

This outh been keen. handsome face, with
those c ear-cut, rather sh features, which
would stamp him anywhere or an American.

O’Shea reddens perceptiny through his sun-
burnt mask, and seems a little at a loss for a
reply. It is the American himself, of whom
the stout ofilcer has always been jealous, who
comes to his rescue with the quiet retort:

“Thanks for the compliment. But we can
hardly call anything good which is rude. Cap~
tam ’Shea has one fault common to all Irish-
men: he is too good-natured to shine in pure
sarcasm.”

As he speaks, he rises from his lowly seat and
moves away forward among the crew, saying
to the Irishman as he passes:

“ Come and have a cheroot, captain.”

The Hon. Lorelia giggles with reat delight
as the two stroll forward, thong her niece’s
face had flushed violently. The elder lad is
too fond of admiration not to enjoy seeing er
beautiful relative snubbed.

The two gentlemen are soon amicably en-
gaged. in burning the fragrant incense of tho

merican weed, rolled into the form of che-
paddle-box. O’Shea, who
has been disposed to dislike the American, on
thamiyhmilfiary grouilidtglhat he is not gne of

rs. as on com e con uered the
behavior of the latter. p y q y

“ It’s lovely Weather we have, Mr. Hart,” he
remarks, as a signal of amity.

Clarence Hart casts a glance seaward.

“ We shall have a change soon, and a bad one
at that,” he answers, gravel .

He had struck his matc , and was looking
out];1 over 1tihe port quarter toward the south-east
as e s e.

roots, near the port

O’Shea’s eyes following his, saw on the hori-
zon a small bank of clou that looked like dis-
tant land.

“ Did you never see such a cloud as that be-
fore, Captain O’Sheai” asked Hart, as he hght-
ed his cheroot.

“Bedad, and why not?” was the counter-

question. “ Clouds are common enough, on me
conscience.”
_ “Then look up there,” rejoined Hart, point-
ing up beside the mizzen-to sail-yard, where a
lit is white speck of vapor gun to be visible.
“ Did you eVer see a cloud like thatl”

O’Shea cocked his 0 e at it.

. “ It’s growing, b t efiowers,” he remarked.
in a tone of interes . “ (’11 have alittle shade
from this blackguard of a sun.”

“ More than we wish,” replied Hart, avely.
“You’re a landsman, O’Shea, or you (1 know
what that means. We’ll have a typhoon on us
before sunset, or I never saw one. ’

As he spoke,'O’Shea became aware that there
wasa commotion on deck. 6 ofllcers came
forward quietly, but rapidly, with grave faces
and the crew hustled about, while a number 0
men went aloft and began to send down the
hght yards.

 

CHAPTER III.
I 1 tbs rte: Tigrnoon.
N ess n wom utesthes kof
O’Shea had seen by the miznen-tops’erfil-yardlggg
grown into a black mass of vapor, with dull

cop reflections alon its up r edge ex-
tending from the zenith a most to iii ban ’
had first arisen on the horizon. e k that

Besides this, the cloud-bank on the south-e
ern horizon was rising steadily, like a chaiiimdf
black and blue mountains with snow-clad peek
behind which incessant red flashes and the rol
of thunder showed that a terrible storm was

g.

ven the lady passen ers be
was somethin comin mar 8th: $333?
the passage, t ough t e :aaptain ancibfllcers put

on c eerful faces and m e their preparations

with}.
. e t intimation the had of the comin
penl was when the men he}: an to strip off thg
carter-deck awning, and t e steward to carry
t ecam hairs down below.
disThe on. Lorelia saw the latter functionary
place her favorite lap-do with a curt, “ Beg
pardon, my lady,” and van down the com-
panionway. whereupon she arose in great in-
di ‘ ation, calling to her Indian butler:
Kttmuggar/ Kitmug ar! Bring back that
chair instantly, for r 098 I Do you hear?”
But, to her so, the ndoo had vanish-
ed; and not only that. but a couple of sailors
had carried on her own and her niece’s seats in
the first moment of her indignation, so that the
quarter.de was empty of chairs; while the
captain was calling out some unintelligible or.
ders to the crew. and the mates were h

T
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The Duke of Diamonds.

' 3

 

 

about with ve faces, swearing at the men in
awe that cnoted suppressed exmtement. .

“ tdoes this mean! Are theyall 0mg
mad, Helen?” asked the fair Lorelia 0 her
niece, who was looking on at the bustle by her
side with a pale face.

Helen Lawton pointed to the huge black
cloud, which had now united with that on the
horizon, and spread like a pull over three—
fourths of the heavens.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have a storm
aunt ” she said, in a low, frightened voice. “ i
hear the captain say something about a ty-

hoon to Mr. McShane, though he didn’t in-
nd me to hear.” _

The Hon. Lorelia turned as pale as her niece
under her rouge. .

“A typhoon 1” she whispered. “ Oh, heavens!
Helen, we shall all be drowned.” .

At that moment a vivid flash of lightning
came from the cloud above them, ran down the
conductors on the foremast, which seemed for
a moment to be all ablaze with intense blue
light; then vanished in darkness, made more
terrible by a deafenin crash of thunder. .

The Hon. Lorelia s rieked dismally, while
Helen Lawton staggered and would have fallen,
had not the American, who was coming aft
with O’Shea, caught her in his arms.

The Irish captain might poss1ny have passed
b , leaving his younger comrade to do the part
o¥a squire of drums; but the dismayed Lorena,
with all the impulsive eagerness of Sixteen,
rushed into his arms in aviolent fit of hysterics.

Helen Lawton had fainted away in dead ear-
nest, but her aunt made 11 for her silence by a
succession of the most vio ent screams, nearly
stran ling the stalwart captain as she clung
roun his neck, and imploring him to “Save
me] Save me!”

And just when her screams Were loudest,
came several bright flashes, followed by deafen-
ing peals of thunder: as the rain, in one broad,
gra sheet, ured down like a cataract.

C areuce art had seen it coming, and  al-
ready home his fair burden below, consiginling
her to the care of the stewardessgbut the on.
Lorelia’s hysterics were cut short in a strangled
shriek, as the water came down. 0 Shea, With
a few muttered Words that sounded very much
like profanity, helped her  the companion
hatch, and saw her down-stairs, after which he
returned on deck to find the ship plowmg
ahead, still in 8. end calm, through a dense
sheet of rain that hid all the horizon, the air as

loomy as if it were night, and no sound save
t e rush of the cloudy cataract.

But this was not to last long:

A moment later, the lightning and thunder
recommenoed, and soon became incessant, while

of wind, alternately cold and_ hot, struck
the ship from posits quarters With the sud-
denness of aeri trip-hammers.

Then they heard a and, roaring sound, loud-
er than even the thunder, and down on the port
quarter came the full fury of the typhoon,
blowing a hundred and fifty miles an hour, cut-
tin the tops of the waves of! as with a knife,
angfilling the air with the sharp, stinging spray
of the “s indrift.” .

It struc the ship, stripped though she was,
and made a clean swee of all three masts at
once, with its first e ort while the O‘Shea
found himself thrown headlong across the deck
into the lee-scuppers, where at least twenty
sailors and officers were already wallowing.

For several minutes the typhoon howled over
the shi from stem to bows; then lulled for
about wanty seconds; when, crash! came a
fiercer blast than ever on the starboard beam.

First it was south then north; now east, anon
west; till the wind had boxed the compass in
intalong the zigzagpath of thetyphoon.

eve
N031; 9 sea rose an camo tearing down on
the devoted vessel in great en mountains.

’Shea who had crawl up under the she]-
to? of the; stern rail, heard the ca tam ell out
some order to the man at the w eel, ust ass.
towering green monster came sweeping down
on the port paddle-box.

The shi ’3 head swerved round to meet the
wave bu too late to revent mischief. The
captain himself was on ghe bridge, between the
boxes, and the soldier saw him throw up his
hands as if in a momentary access of despair.

Then the wave struck the die—box; there
was a sound of crashing w ; a cloud of white
foam. The ship Quivered from stem to stem as
the engines went whirling round unchecked by
any resistance; than she Iwopt round in a Circle,
like a wild duck with a broken wing; while
wave after wave poured in upon her, buffetin
her from port to starboard With a succession 0
heavy blows, in the midst of which came the
crashing of wood, resolving itself into splinters.

Thoroughly dismayed, the stout soldier stared
wildly before him, and saw that the sea had
made a clean breach of both paddle-boxes,
the dies completely and bendfigg
the stou iron of the wheels as if they
been mere wires. The captain had vanished,
and note man save himself seemed to be left
on deck, while the sea to leeward was covered
with pieces of wreck, token of how the remorse-
lesswaves had swept the Benaru from stem to
stun.

wreckin

 

CHAPTER IV.
In: muons Dun.

THE Arabian shore of the Persian Gulf is low
and marshy, the districts of El Aksha and
Oman bein notoriously unhealthy. The fpeo-
ple are muci darker than their neighbors o the
interior hi rblands of Nedjed. and et their liv-
ing by fishing and the slave e, when not
working in the rice-fields.

The little town of Tuat, low and mud-walled,
with a single mosque, and not more than a
thousand inabitants, became one of the rind-
pal depots of the slave trade after the maum
of Muscat made his renowned treaty with Eng-
land, by which the trade was supposed to be
abolished in his dominions.

The English cruisers had made matters on the
coast of Africa prett hot for the slavers, but a
few dhows succeed in running the blockade
every year, and those made the best of their
way to El hatif and Tuat, knowing that English
ships rarel went beyond Muscat or into the
Gulf. A single gunboat of the East Indian
navy, cruising around Bushire on the Persian
coast, is the only vestige of law and order in
those seas; and the British Resident at Bushire
never interferes with the opposite coast.

But, Tuat is something besides a slave depOt.
It lies behind the famous island of Bahre' the
home of the pearl-fishery, and every Ara on
the coast, from El Katif to Muscat, is a keen
judge of pearls.» In fact, the pearls are the
prime cause of the slave trade, for the divers
are all negroes, forced to risk their lives against
the sharks, whether they like it or not.

When we come to Tuat it is late in J um, and
the fishing season has set in in full vigor. The
little town lies scorchin in the sun on its black
mud flat, and the port is full of boats, putting
out and coming in from Bahrein, just in sight
at the other side of the sound.

But, outside of the little dirty Arab craft that
ply to and fro, lies at anchor a vessel of very
different a pearance, with a trim neatness
about her t t tells of civilization.

Not very high in the water, for one ht
easily climb into her waist from a row-boat y
steppin into the main chains, she is yet far
larger an the biggest of the pearl-boats and
dhows that are scattered about. A Yankee ship-
master would judge her as “about three hun-
dred and fifty tons, old measurement: nearer
four hundred, new style ;” and would as unheso
itatingly call her a yacht.

N o trading-vessel ever had such a gloss to her
dark brown paint, like mahogany, or such a
bright gold streak running from bow  stern.
N o tra er ever kept her decks so white and
clean, or her masts stayed so trulgé

But this yacht if yacht she , has a look
about her decidedl Oriental, for her rig is that
of the Arab or M terranean “ lateener;” with
short sturdy masts, raking forward, and taper-
in yardso enormous length, rising in the air
as gh as the masts of an ordinary schooner.
The sails are furled snu 1y away, however, with
a care and neatness t at no Oriental vessel
ever displa ed, and contradict the presumption
raised by t e rest of the rig.

A few sailors, grouped on the forecastle or
busied around the brass-work of the yacht,
polishing up in man-of-war style, while they
work like Europeans, are as decidedly natives of
these tropical seas; swarthy Arabs; in ple Hin-
doos; active little Malays; all dre in uni-
form of Moslem cut, turbaned, jacketed and
lfifigy-breeched, with bare feet, their sashes
f of weapons; a most truculent-looking crew
for a yacht, though silent and orderly as so
many man-of-war’s-men.

The vessel has no guns visible, but there
are several neat teakwood brass-bound cases,
ranged at intervals along the bulwarks. inside,
that have a strangeappearance, being about the
size of an ordinary gun, without any comings,
and placed opposite the ports. tthese cases
maybe and what they contain, in our days of

rtable Gatlin . and Hotchkiss guns, is prob-

ematical; but t e yacht has withal the look of
a craft that can take care of herself even
among the slave-hunters and other rascally cut-
throats of the coasts of El Aksha and Oman.

The deck of the vemel is flush or level, the
quarter-deck not being raised above the rest,
and the cabin being down-stairs.

Pacing to and fro near the stern rail, with a
keen eye on the crew to see that they do their
work, strides a tall, thin, bony man, with broad
angular shoulders and a sh eager face. His
eyes are of that greenish_ azel, with yellow
specks, that betoken keen sight: and his heard
is of that intense blue-blue that only accom-
panies the Forum method of dyeing with henna
and indigo.* At. the sides it is scant and thin,
but grows heavily on mouth and c ' and is

‘Turks and Persians almost universally (1 their
boards geflorming the o ration openly an taking
several aysto perfect i . First t ey use a decoo-
tion of henna, the same with which harem beauties
stain the ill-pa of their fingers. This turns the board
abrlghtb ckdust red, in which state the hair re-
mains several days. the owner not see-int 9) ‘00
any shame from the looks of his face. The dyeing
is then com leted win: indigo, which cont-I a las-
trons blue- \ k that lam some time. .

 

trimmed to a point, which lies on his breast, and
which be frequently strokes caressingly.

This personage wears a brilliant uniform of
scarlet and green, with the buttons of the House
of Braganza; and the ensign which droo lazily
from the at the stern of the yac t bears
the colors 0 Portugal.

He seems to talk any of a dozen Oriental lan-
guages, for his sharp, stern voice addresses each
of the seamen in his own tongue, thou h per—
grips equallyill in all, for what the rea er can

Still, Portuguese a pearsto be the omcial lan-
guage of the Zacht, or it is in Portuguese that
0 ans 8 out is last order. -
“ C all hands to receive His Grace, the
Iiuke ’pf Diamantina; and pipe the boats for
s ore.

Instantly a great black-bearded giant, the sil-
ver anchor on whose sleeve proclaims him to be
the boatswain, sounds his shrill whistle in true
man-of-war style, when up the hatchways come
tumbling fifty or sixt men, who range them-
selves in regular 0 er and stand looking to-
ward the cabin.

Presently a head is seen rising above the bran
rail and a oung man comes up on deck and
touches his t in answer to the salutes of the

crew. ‘
Whatever may be the attire of the rest of the
ship’s com ny, this young man might guess
muster in and manner in an part 0 the
world for a rich yacht-owner. is dark blue
suit, fittin irreproachably, white vest and slip-
pers, broad hat of Guayaquil grass, are all so
studiously plain that theyashow the master of
dress among his gaudily-c d dependents.
Neither uniform, weapons nor jewels mark
the young Duke of Diamant ; owner of half
the diamonds in the world (according to report)
and spending mone like water. Plain gold studs
and a slender watc -chain are the onlyu-aces of
ornament about him, and there is nothing to
distract attention from his handsome face and

e.

“833:1. of these are of remarkable 
He is above the medium hi t, and ' frame
looks slight and agile, thong there is a depth
of chest about it, such as we find when we look
closer at the Apollo Belvidere. His face is of
that dark aquiline character we expect to find
in southern races, with mafiif’icent eyes, thin
curlingli intensely black ' and mustache,
setting 0 splendid tooth when he smiles, as he
does now to the omcer in uniform.

“ Well, Dom Gil,” he says, inatone of la
a prov “you have brought these cubs to
s ape at t I see. I am satisfied now that we
can go to Calcutta without being ashamed of
the vessel.”

The keen-looking oficer with the black beard
looks criticallg at the men and answers:

“I think t ey will do after awhile, your
Toe, though it a good deal of trouble to get
t em to stop their talking. Will your grace
take the long-boat or the 'g!”

f‘ The long-boat. Ithifi' I shall 0 to Bah-
rein to-day ” re lies the duke. ‘ ve you
heard whether ea have found any speciall' y
large pearls, Dom i1?”

. “Ontehotfhtge pearl-boats came in tgism
in m eo-son,yourgrace,an en
iim'ii’ the gig Eli-Egan f at?“ wall"

e 0 years.

Thed edisplayedhiswhite tceth, uhis lip
curled in a gentle smile.

“Send the men to their berths,” he said,

quietly. “ Haroun the Wahabee is v oblig-
ingtosavemeahot rowinthe sun. for
him to my cabin.”

Dom Gil bowed, and the duke returned to his
cabin. the pleasantest and coolest rein-est im-
aginable on that blazin day.

A strong current of air came in through the
stern windows and traveled up the wind
cooled as it went by a fine spray of
water, thrown across each window of he yacht
3 a self-acting atomizer. The furniturcwal

that taste and comfort could desire and lux-
ury purchase, cool silk cushions, eboni and sil-
mgg seated with hi(ziner networ , books,
tuettcs trop 0 arms.
The duke threw Himself down on a silk-cover-

divan, smooth and cool, bythe stern win-
dow, and looked lazily out to sea. The tide had
swung the yacht’s stern Out in. that direction
and brought into the midst of his field of vhion
a large slave dhow slofly ghding into the port
of Tuat under a t breece from the south.

She was Yith negroes, who had has:
shaken up out of their confined position during
the voyage, now that there was no furthe- dau-

of their escape, and the eleven were busy
groaning of! their irons.

The duke looked at them with a slight ex-

ofdlsgnst. Hehadoftenssenslave
hows before, and the breeze brought {mm till;

one a sickening emnvium. He chard

handsandalitte black boyde room
with his master’s long hookah which the duke
begantoto smoke in fiddem £0 was not
used dinmble e pneenco
of this horrible dawnth annoyed him

tl .
‘Ttgliiedslowlycn,
the fit.“ at lsstthe

nearer-amines!!-
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The Duke of Diamonds.

 

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could stand it no longer. With an impatient
sigh, much at variance with his usual imper-
turbable demeanor, he laid down his pipe, and
said sharply to the black boy:

“Go up and tell Dom Gil Grabador to make
those ople go to leeward or else sink them.”

Thefily vanished.

To Dom Gil and all on board, the duke’s word
was law and ospel combined. Without a mo-
ment’s hesitation the tall officer hailed the slave
dhow in bad Arabic:

“ Take your vile carcasses to leeward, sons of
unwashed mothers or I’ll sink you.”

As he spoke, and as if by ma ic, the men on
the watch whipped off one of t e brass-bound
cases that stood inside the bulwarks of the

acht, and up went a bright steel mitrailleur,
hinged on along bar, so that it just peeped over
the top of the rail and resented its circle of
gleamin barrels at the s ave dhow.

The e ect was immediate. There was a con~
fusion of unintelligible yells and Arabic orders,
in the midst of which the dhow altered her
course and took her vile odors out of the wea-
ther-gage of the yacht. Not, however, before
she had drifted Within a hundred yards.

The Duke of Diamantina, lazily smoking his
hookah, saw the wild confusi. n on board as she
sheered off; and a moment later two white

es shot over the side of the slaver and
p unged into the water with a splash.

The duke half arose and saw two heads
emerge from the water and come swimming
toward the yacht. He knew the must be
those of escaping slaves, but the w to bodies
particularly arrested his attention.

Then the Arabs on the slaver opened fire with
their long muskets at the two fugitives, and the
duke frowned slightly. Turning to the waiting
black boBOhe said, as quietly as usual:

“ Tell :11 Gil to stop their firing.”

This time the boy grinned as e vanished.
The message suited him.

A moment later, the powerful tones of Dom
Gil shouted, in the same inelegant but forcible
Arabic which the slavers seemed to understand
so well before:

“Stop shooting, igs; or we shoot too. Keep
your slaves tight ter this. ”

There was an immediate cessation of firing on
board the dhow, though the reis beg in to shout
out all kinds of remonstrances against robbing
a man of his property; but in the meantime
the two swimmers reached the side of the

cht, grappled a rope thrown them by one of

e sailors at a si al from Dom Gil, and were

auled on boa , two white men, one red-
bearded and burly, the other slender and
blonde.

They were both stripped of clothes, and cov-
ered with raw patches where the skin had
cracked under exposure to the sun, so that, al-
together, they presented a pitiable appear-
.ance.
h“Dom tSill game toltienftiat thlem, and his usual

rp, s em ace me nto ines reusing a
certain grim kindness as he asked: up

“In leez, ou s’all be, eh? Ispik ze Ingleez
lak na ive. ere from, you s’all come?”

The red-bearded man grinnedin answer as he
said in broad Irish:

“ Faith, and we shall come home as soon as
we can at there. Is it where we came from?
Out of t e say, be the powers. Wrecked in a
typhoon, and picked u of! a raft by the slav
worse luck! ’m Cap in Thaddeus O’Shea, 0
Her Majesty’s Department of Army Control,
and this is my friend, Mr. Hart, of America.”

Dom Gil turned and looked at the younger
man with interest.

“Americano ’you s’all be, aha? Ve s’all be
brozairs. Ve sall be all of America here 0
Du ue del Diamantina an’all. I s’all be Dom Gil
Gra or, Commandante of de Naves Brasil-
iano. Don’t you are feel cold? You s’all be
have. close, and s’all see 0 duque. Hols, An—
tcnio Seuss!”

He called the steward and gave him some
rapi directions in Portuguese, when the man
beck ned them forward and took them into the
store-room of the acht, down the main hate
which they foun supplied with clothes of a1
devsgri “011118 and natgeofiitliles. it.“

at e were g entertain-
ed, Dom (3' went down tomato ca and re-
spectful] saluted the duke, who asked in his
usuan et manner:

“ Well, Dom Gil!”

“Theia‘rere from awreek,ss¢ssflhor;
one Iris , the at r anAmerican. The Irish-

: civilian. I have sent t on to be
W‘i‘ll‘you see them?”i r, um
re ou sure no th ling the
dukg, 510sz . Eu 0”. m
‘ can to an lis lik snsk
his tongue. Neither‘is 113m" . ‘ Q by
333%??? will” i.
m i ow an e t the which 0
soon neutered, leading O’Shes aim The
duke rose from his lounge with easy politeness
-sndsdvarlcedtomeethisgussb,sa in
English of the utmost urity, andin s win:
voice with only a slig t foreign accent:
“ tlemen, I am rejoiced to heed» the
vmefyowdslivmhe-thsssnfllsd

manissn oflcerof theEn lish stat, the other

slave-hunters. Be pleased to consider this ves-
sel and all in it as ours to command.”

Then he “tapped: for O’Shea was staring at
him as if he seen a ghost. The jaw of the
Irishman had dropped, and his eyes were fixed
:mfii glassy, while e trembled as if he would

a .
“ Is the gentleman sick?” asked the Duke of
Diamantina.

 

CHAPTER V.
AN UNPROTECTED FEMALE.

IT was not without reason that the Duke
asked O’Shea whether he was ill, for the cap-
tain seemed in imminent danger of a fit. Dom
Gil and Clarence Hart supported him on either
side, while the Brazilian nobleman, with the
coolness that marked his every motion, poured
out a glass of sherbet and held it to his lips, say-

in :

§Lay the senhor down, Dom Gil. Perhaps
he is sunstruck.”

They were leading him to the lounge, when
O’Shea stopped and stiffened up: then trembled
again, and asked Dom Gil breathlessl :

“For the love 0’ God, darlin’, wife’s that?
Don’t lie to me! Who is he?”

“ Dat is Senhor Dom Afonso Vasco Vasquez
Conde del Rio Bravo, Marquez del Pombal, and
Duque del Diamantina,” answered Dom Gil, in
his most im ' g manner.

“And hes not a host? A real true flesh-
and-blood man?” as ed O’Shea, in the same
breathless wa .

Here the du e smiled.

“Here is in hand, senhor, to feel if I am
flesh and blood‘. ”

As he spoke he grasped the hand of the stout
Irishman with such a sudden and powerful
gripe that his small slim hands seemed to be
made of steel wire; and the pain brought
O’Shea to his senses more effectually than any
other thing could have done.

“ Yer honor’s alive,” he answered, in the
tones of a soldier addressing an officer.

Then he hesitated a moment and asked in a
more collected way:

“ Was your ce ever in India?”

“ I am a razilian ” answered the duke,
calmly. “ I have been in Goa, but we have not
visited your rte yet.”

O’Shea n ded his head and muttered:

“ It can’t be. I must have dr’amed.”

Then he bowed and apologized.

“I beg pardon, your race, but maybe it’s
the sun made me rude. hose murderin’ divils
of slavers strip us and left us in the sun till
we were nigh end. I’m thankful your
was here, or ma be we’d be dead by this.”

The Duke of mantina smiled in his quiet,
unimpassioned way, and turned the converse-
tion by speaking to Clarence Hart.

f‘ You are an American senhor. I am re-
;oiced to see you, for we .émzilians are great

nends of your people. Should I be imperti-
nent were I to ask

Not at all, our . Our story is soon

told. Captain ’Shea and myself were passen-

gers from Bombay on the steamer Benares, an

old die-wheel tub, that ought to have been

con emned long  We were caught in a
sf

how you came in this

been and the oundered, after the cap-
ts. and emcem been swept overboard.
Luckily for me I owned a Boyton suit; and,
thanks to that, i helped O’Shea and two of the
lady passengers of! to a raft we made out of the
wrec of the ship’s spars. Next day we were
picked up _by that slayer, whose fiople at once
put'usm irons and placed the dies in their
cabin. They arestill there, to be sold as slaves,
I resume, after they land.”

0 sooner had he finished than the duke
turned to Dom Gil, saying:

“ Go to the slaver at once, and buy the two
women the have on board. Pay whatever
they ask. 0 are very fortunate if they have
not gone already. ”

larenoe began to thank the duke earnestly
for his kindness, but Diamantina waved his
hand in aslightin manner.

“My dear sir, is nothing. We must not
allow ladies to be sold for a Moslem harem.
Besides, it may be well to wait for thanks till
we have them safe on board. I know these
Arabs, and they are a ver tricky race. One
unever certain of them. 9 quick, Dom Gil,
aud’come back with the ladies as soon as you
can.

Dom all left the cabin while he was speakins,
and th heard the dash of oars almost im-
media yafter, showing that the first ofloer
of the yacht was on his way to the slaver.

The duke clapped his hands and said some
words in Portuguese to the black boy, who rm
out and returned almost immediately with the
steward, c g a table ready set with all the
luxuries of a ogcal climate, accom ied by
 made ’Shea’s month we r, N3 “10

m .

“Your fare on the slaver was in all prob-
ability not what you are accustomed to, title-
in“. May I hope you will take lunc with
me, and honor my 11 tle boat by taking up your

 

here
q "Faiths-d I’ll mwe’re nearly starving.

\

 

our grace,” replied the Irishman, frankly.
“ I’d not be refusmg lunch any time, and now I
could ate raw beef. ’

“ Then fall to, gentlemen,” answered their
host, with his usua gentle courtesy, and they
were not slow to obey the invitation.

As they Were slowly consuming the ices with
which the luxurious repast concluded, Clarence
observed:

“We hardly expected to find ices on the coast
of Arabia.”

“ And yet you have them on the Bombay
steamers and at Calcutta,” answered the duke,
quietly.

“Yes, but the ice comes in ships from Amer-
ica, and is very dear.”

‘ My dear sir, it is nothing but a question of
a little trouble. I have my private provision-
ship that follows me at intervals, and keeps me
sup lied. Just now she is at Ismalia, loading
Wit ice. It takes about a ton a day to keep
the yacht cool in summer. You notice the
temperature of the cabin. It is ke t at seventy
uegrees of your Fahrenheit t ermometer,
though it be more than a hundred outdoors, by
means of my ice-spray. I will show you, if you
will permit.”

He pointed out to them, over the frame of
each window, a bracket, which held a large sil-
ver vase, from the foot of which a fine spray,
almost invisible, was floating down across the
window.

“You have seen those little toys they call
atemizers in the pharmacia—the apothecar ’5?
That is the whole secret of this cool air. he
vases contain ice and sea-water, and it is per-
fumed before it descends. It eva rates rapid-
ly, and you feel the result. Wil you smoke,

, gentlemen? I have the hookah if you prefer, or

the ci ar.”

“0 , give me a ci ar, for the love 0’ God.
None of yer hookahs or me, had luck to ’em.
The ’re too much like India,” said O’Shea,
bl y. He seemed to be gettin over his fear
of the Duke of Diamantina. e latter eyed
him with his usual bland calmness.

“ You do not seem to like India very much.
senhor?”

“Bedad, and I don’t, duke. ’Tis a good
country to rob, and a better to leave with the
plunder.” _

“ My dear sir,”smiled the other, handln him
8 richly-chased silver jar full of the nest
Havanas, “that has been the logic of three
thousand years of con nest in the world. The
robber who carries off is plunder can spend it
and come back for more, but he who sits down
over his loot in India is apt to lose it to one
stron er than he.”

0’ ea cackled over his cigar as he lighted it.
He could not enter into the soarings of hi-
losophy, but he was an old East Indian an be
had never smoked such a cigar before.

“Where do e get these cigars?” he asked,
curiously, sn g the aroma of the dark to-

co.

“My dear sir, I w them. My steward
keeps the accounts 0 one estate I have in the
\Luelta, Abajo, in Cuba, and they come from
t ere.

Clarence Hart had been lookin out of the
stern windows while they were c attlng thus
idly, and saw the white gig of the yacht coming
back with Dom Gil Grabador in the stem-
sheets, but only accompanl9d by a single figur-
in female attire, closely veiled.

In some agitation he turned to his host, say-

n :

g‘ Dom Gil is coming back, but only with one.
Can he have failed?” .

H My deu- gir,” was the sublimer qmet reply,
“my ple never fail. You shall have your
lad finds, unless they are killed before we
flngythem, and even then their remains shall be
turned over to your care.”

Clarence was silenced by the absolute faith
this man seemed to have in his own powers to
accomplish anything, and he waited till the
Brazilian officer entered the cabin, leading with
him the unknown female, who struck an atti-
tude as soon as she came in, threw back her
veil, and fell at the feet of the duke, crying:

“ My brave preserverl_ Heaven bless you for
saving an innocent melden’s honor from th.
ruflian grasp of the infidel Arabs.”

Clarence could not avoid turning away to
conceal a smile, for it was none other than the
Hon. Lorelle, ainted in true Oriental fashion,
her e es .made urge and languishing by touch-
ing t e lids With b ack antimony, her hair orna-
mented with gold coins han 'ng over her fore-
head, her slender and rat er angular figure
concealed by Oriental kaftan, sash and petti-
coat trowsers. It was the Hon. Lorelle Lawton,
transmogrified by thearts of the slave-trader
to present the most captivath 8p names or
which she was capable, to attract t e eye of a
purchaser. ,

O’Shea, who was behind her, grinned at Dom
Gil, and the iron featuresof the Brazilian officer
softened into a, sive look; but the ex-
quisite courtesy of the Duke of Diamantina
never failed him, and he raised the fair Lorelia
from the carpet with his usual calm bhndneu,
telling her:

“Beet geodehssr, madame. I am snlyte’e

 

 

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IM.

A ....v_._..~., _._-,__...~.........._.n.. . chm...“ }

 m-“  -~:

The Duke of Diamonds.

5 ,

 

L

be to be of any use to a lady of your condi-
tio‘zi?y Pray be seated, and excuse me, while I
question my steward a moment.” . .

His voice was calm, his manner as frigid as
that of Lorelia, was ardent, and the honorable
maiden took her seat, rather cho fallen.

"Where are the others, Dom il?” asked the
duke, in Portuguese. .

“The Slayers say they will not sell them till

on have aid the price for the escaping men.
They won d on] let me have the old woman.”

It was lucky or the sensitiveness of the Hon.
Miss Lawton that she did not understandaword
of Portu uese.

The du e looked annoyed.

“Did you not then pay for them?”

“I hardly dared, mt scnhor. They asked
fifty thousand piastres for each, and twice as
much for the women.”

The Duke of Diamantina looked coldly at his
major-domo. .

“Dom Gil,” he said, icily, “I have never
known you to hesitate about an order before.
Get me these people, if they have not gone.
While you are waiting, they may send them
of! to F zoul Abdallah. ’

Dom il flushed to his temples as he bowed in
answer to his employer, and the duke turned
awa to Clarence saying, in English:

“ fear I must trouble my honored guests. to
come on deck for a little while. These rascals
are impudent at times and will not give up
a valuable prisoner without a full bargain.
Madame, permit me.”

CHAPTER VI.
LORELIA’S WATCH.

HE offered his arm to the Hon. Lorelia, who
acce ted it with simpering eagerness, and the
who e part ascended to thequarter-deck, where
they foundy an awning spread and a shower of
fine icy spray already filling the air from umps
set in motion as soon as the duke set his oot on
the bottom ste of the stairs.

“Dear me, uke; you have the ver perfec-
tion of luxury here,” remarked Miss wton,
as she sunk into a camp-chair in the midst of
this cooling spray. “It seems  me thatI
could live here forever, were I in your posi-
tion.” . _

The duke smiled in his usual cool indifferent

wa .

‘;I try to make my friends pleased with their
reception, madame. I am glad the yacht meets
your wishes.” . _

Even while he was speaking, his eyes were
roaming toward the shore, where the slave dhow
was now beached in the mud, while her cargo
of blacks was being quickly discharged, sur—
rounded by a mob of purchasers. intent on good
bargains. Outside this crowd they could see a
troop of camels, about thi: ty in number, whereof
several were e uipped with the broad-Winged
and curtained fitters in which the harem wo-
men of rich Arabs are accustomed to ride.

The duke looked keenly at these, and com-
pressed his lips slightly as he noticed that they
Were moving ofl across the mud flat of Tuat to-
ward the highlands, by way of the beaten track
to Dereeyah. _

While he was looking, Dom Gil’s boat was
nearing the slave dhow, and another boat—one
of the common Arab craft—approached the
yacht itself. . _

The Hon. Lorelia was full of romantic dehght
at the picture round her. .

“I have longed above all things to see Ara-
bia,” she declared; “and this is just too awful-
ly nice for anything. Look at those camels,
with their funn saddles, like big butterflies.
What in the wor d are they, duke?’

“I fear, madame,” rejoined the duke, grave-
ly, “that one of those camels is carrying off
your ’friend to visit Fyzoul A , in Deree-

ah 1

“And who is Fyzoul Abdallah?” asked Lo-
relia innocently. .

“ e is the Sultan of Deree ah, the capital of
the Wahabces, madame. he Wahabees, as
you are no doubt aware, are the most fanatical
of Moslems: and a Christian in their hands is

iretty Certain to be killed if a man; kept in a
harem for life if a woman.” .

The Hon. Miss Lawton began to look fright—
ened as she ejaculated:

“ And will they ut Helen in a harem, dukell
Shall we never see er again i” .

“ Not if I can help it, madame and I think I
can, not being quite unknown ere. Pardon
me one moment. I see a person coming on
business. ” .

He bowed and went forward to the main
gangway, where a little dried-up Arab, meanly
dressed, was bowmgr with a profusion of Orien-
tal compliments at .llS good fortune in behold-
ing the “ Golden Prince of all Riches, the illus-
trious Lord from the “ est who had deigned to
send for Haroun al Wahabi, *0 buy of him the
Pearl of all Pearls.” ' .

The duke cut short his compliments by saying
coldly:

“ Show me the pearl. If I have none larger
I vivimmketiiww h beeh 'tated.

aroun e a a 88)

“Can I not show it to the Great Lord of all

Jewels in private 1'”

The duke beckoned him apart from the rest,
and the Arab produced from a bundle of
in the recesses of his garments a handsome
pearl, of the dro shape so much admired in
ear-mugs. The uke inspected it quietly and
returned it.

“It is a good one, but I have better. Bring
me a match for it, and I will take them. Whose
camels are those going to Dereeyah i”

The Arab was so taken by surprise b the
sudden change of subject that he unguar edly
answered:

“ Mine, great lord.”

“ How much does Fyzoul Abdallah ofler for
the white woman ?” asked the duke, in the same
listless way, as if not much interested in the

re 1y.

This time the Arab screwed up his wizen face
and replied, more rdedly:

“Does the Lor of Jewels wish to buy her
himself ?”

The duke frowned at him, and the frown
transformed his countenance from the l
grace of Antinous to the pitiless sternness of the

A 110.
' RCIf I wish to take her I will but speak a word

and kill every man in Tuat ere he can drew his
sword. Answer my question.”

Haroun cringed in awe before this impertur—
bable man for he knew that the duke ke the
truth. The mitrailleurs of the yac t could
have externiinated every livin being in Tuat
inside of half an hour. The w1 y Arab sought
to make his peace and a good bargain at once
by hastening to say:

“ I meant no offense, great lord, but the Sul-
tan ot‘ Dereeyah gave me a commission to find
him a white girl, young and handsome more
than a ear egg). f I We her up nowI have
her, I s all be illed byfii‘yzoul A lah’s spies,
unless I leave Arabia forever.”

The duke nodded gravely.

“ I see. Then you must leave it. I will give
you enough to take on away. Name your
price to Dom Gil. and e will pay you when the
girl is delivered.”

He returned to the (quarter-deck and looked
out to shore. The loa ed camels were moving
ra idly off toward the mountains, and Dom

,Gi ’8 boat was lying on the mudd beach, while
that energetic oflicer himself com d be seen hur-
rying 10 and fro among the Arabs on the shore,
as if full of business.

Haroun the Wahahee scrambled into his boat
and was rowed to shore, while the duke return-
ed to the quarter-deck and looked at his watch.

He stood near the Hon. Lorelia, who was
making eyesas usual at the nearest available
man—in this case O’Shea—and the sh eyes
of the lad noticed the simplicity of the time-
piece a sin old case.

all 0 vani y, she began to lament the fact
that her own watch had been injured during
her adventures in the water, and inquired:

“ Is it not safe to say that your ace, amidst
so much luxury, keeps a watc er and jew-
eler in his train?”

“I believe so, madame,” was the quietly-
courteous reply 5 but the duke did not seem to
be particularly interested in the matter of L0-
relia’s time iece.

“ I shoul be desolated, as the French say, if
it were spoiled,” remarked the Hon. Lorelia,
pulling out a magnificent watch incrusted with

iamonds. “It was a present from my bro-
ther, Sir Lumley Lawton, when he was made
Governor of Krishnapoor after the mutiny.
You remember the mutiny, duke?”

Clarence Hart, who he been quietly watch-
ing the Hon. Lorelia and O’Shea with some
amusement, had noticed that the sunburnt face
of the soldier always assumed an expression
strongly akin to hatred when the lady consult-
ed her watch, which she did about a hundred
times a da . It was 9. ve handsome toy, of
French ma e, a repeater an stop-watch in one,
With soniany diamonds on the case that it
flashed hke a single jewel when taken out: and
it was a matter of wonder to him how the fair
Lorelia had managed to hide it from the slaver’s
people. The lad was proud of it with good
reason and very end of displaying it.

This time he watched O’S ea to see if the cap-
tain would show his usual emotion but noticed
that the Irishman had his eyes llxed on the
Duke of Diamantina while Lorelia, was speak-

in .

The Brazilian nobleman, on his part, was still
looking out toward the shore, and only
tending to listen to the British maiden of uncer-
tain a e and kittenish manners.

“ Te me, duke, did on ever see such a
watch as this?” continued relia, piqued at his
calmness and boldin up the watch.

The duke turned h 8 eyes full on her with a.
serious sweetness that disarmed her.

“ Pardon my inattention, madame, but I was
thinking of your friends in danger. I fear we
shall have to follow them to Deree ah.”

“ But we .shall get them back ” asked the
lady in uiringly.

“ e s all, madame.”

“Then look at my watch and tell me what
you think of it,” she continued.

The duke took the to in his hands with indif-

 

ferent courtesy and 100 ed at it closely, watch-

 

ed as closely himself by O’Shea and Hart. He
returned it with a bow.

“ It is very nice, madame,” said the Duke of
Diamantina, frigidly, and O’Shea gave a deep
sigh and muttered to himself:

‘ It can’t be he. It can’t.”

But Clarence Hart, keener by nature and
education than the honest Irish soldier, noticed
that as the duke turned away he gave one flash
of his dark eyes at the unconscious Lorelia, and
in that moment his face seemed to be trans-
formed to the likeness of Satan, king of the
fallen angels!

But his mien was unruflled and his voice as
cool as might be imagined of an animated icicle,
as he remarked to Clarence:

“ My dear sir, I am truly sorry for your
friends, but I see the camels are far on their
wayto Dereeyah. I doubt if Haroun can over-
take them in time. We must follow ourselves.
Can you ride a camel?” ‘

CHAPTER VII.
CLARENCE HART’S sronr.

Cmnncn was somewhat surprised at the
last question of the duke.

“ I suppose I could if I tried. I have done a
little of everything in my life.”

d I'lhe duke took him to one side of the quarter-
ec .

“Pardon the question, m dear sir, but I am
interested in your face an nationality. Will
you tell me how you, an American, come into
these seas? I owemuch to your nation; and if,
as I fancy, you are free, I have a proposition to
make to you that may meet your views.”

Clarence smiled good-humoredly.

“There is but little to tell your grace. My
name is Clarence Hart, educated as a physician
in Boston, but coming to sea in the navy as
soon as I had taken in degree. I went to
China in the frigate Mobi e four years ago, got
tired and resigned my post after two cars,
and have since been wandering throng the
East Indies, hunting for a relative of mine who
disappeared from Boston before my mother
was married He was her favorite brother and
she has never forgotten him.”

The duke seemed interested.

“ And thisrelative— our uncle—what makes
you think him in the ast?”

“The last my mother heard of him he was in
the service of an Indian prince. the Rajah of
Krishnapoor. His name was Gilbert Carver,
and I have traced him so far under the Hindoo
name of Gilkarvah. He was a tall, thin man
with sandy hair, but must be gray now, for he
was twenty years old when I was boxn.”

“And on think he is living still?” said the
duke, soft y.

“ I hope so, your grace, for my mother’s
cake,” was the reply; “but I sometimes fear I
shall never find him. I have heard by accident,
from Captain O’Shea yondtr, that the rajah,
his master, was executed, under circumstances
of the most—”

He sto ped and azed in some alarm at the
duke, w ose coun nance had become marble
pale, while the hand which still rested on Clar‘
ence’s shoulder clutched it like a vise.

“ Is your grace ill?” he asked.

“ It is nothingS I am subjectto
heart,” re liedt 6 other, hastily.
tice it bu go on.”

Hishand relaxed, and his features resumed
their wonted serenity as Clarence pursued:

“ O’Shea, it seems, commanded the 11 de-
tachment that killed the poor prince, w o ave
him some present in his last moments. I on’t
know what it was; but O’Shea Seems to be very
bitter over the fact that it was taken from him
by his so riors. From somethin he let drop,
I fancyi may be that very watchgiiss Lawton
showed us just now. ”

“Youlare right,” assented the duke, hastily.
“ That is, your conjeicture is probably correct.
Pra go on, Senhor art.”

“ at is nearly all, 'our grace. I set out
from Bombay in the snares despondiiig of
ever seeing my lost uncle: an , while there, I
met O’Shea and the Lawtons, and we were
wrecked, as ou know.”

“ Senhor, thank you for your confidence
and will not abuse it, ’said the duke, with the
statelycpoliteness of a Brazilian noble, the most
polishe people alive.

Clarence hesitated, and a. moment later asked
wistfully: _

“Does our grace think _ that I have any
chance of nding my uncle Gilbert? You know
these lands well. Is there any chance?”

“ M dear sir,” was the kind reply, and the
Brazihan’s face fairl . beamed with gracious
softness, “good sons ike you will always find
their reward. Who knows? You may see your
uncle 900ner than you expect. Is your father
yet living?” .

Clarence sighed.

“ Alas, no. My mother has been a widow ten
years.”

The duke pressed his hand warmly.

“ We are alike in that, too. I am fatherless, for
twenty long, long ears. Como, senhor, to my
proposm‘on. Dom gil Grabador is my manager,
my captain of yacht my; stei‘ra rd of rents, my
factotum: but Dom Gil as mt u'l 1.1% yr n can

sins of the
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education save of the world. I am indolent, I;
and I need a secretar and confidant who can
write my letters and my friend. Will you
take the 1position and name your own salary?
That is a .”

Clarence noticed that the duke’s En lish took
on quaint forei idioms when he tal ed earn-
estl , and he fe t so much surprised by the pro-
pos tion that he hesitated.

The Brazilian noticed his embarrassment, and
lid kindly:

“ ink over it, my dear sir, and give me an
answer at your leisure. I see Dom Gil is com-
ing back to report that he has en aged camels.
A very enegetic man is Dom il. You will
like him. e has been in the United States,
even in Boston, I believe. Who did you say
was this lady in the sin ver, Senhor Hart?”

It was the first time the duke had asked a di-
rect question as to the name of any of his guests,
his delicate and ultra-Portuguese courtesy hav-
ing kept his lips sealed before.

‘M.ss Helen, dau hter of Sir Lumley Law-
ton Governor of Ca outta.”

The duke bummed a low note.

“ So, Sir Lumley has a daughter?
handsome?”

“ Beautiful as an angel,” replied Clarence,
enthusiastically.

The duke looked at him keenly.

“ My dear sir, there are beautiful women
everywhere. These English are not for Ameri-
cans to love. Be warned by me, and kee to
your own race. The Hindoos are right. aste
should never be confused.”

Clarence colored as he retorted:

“English and Americans are one race, your

grace.
The duke shrugged his shoulders with a slight

She is

mace.

“My dear sir, I never argue. Here is Dom
Gil coming on boar .”

In fact at that moment the tall otllcer return-
ed and made a stiff military salute to his su-
perior, while he gave in his concise and clear

report.

‘The old slave merchant has taken of! the
woman to Doreeyah and I have engaged camels
to follow at once. ’We can take the gun-sad-
dles and enough men along to be safe, and
start in an hour. Will your grace sta or go?”

Clarence understood noth g of t 0 rapid
Portuguese beyond an occasional word, but the
duke remarked in English:

“Our Dom Gil is an invaluable man, Mr.
Hart. He has repaired an excusable fault by
promplt diligence. I will go, Dom Gil. In the
mean 'me let me introduce to you the Scuhor
Clarence art, from Boston, who is hunting the
world over to find his uncle Gilbert Carver, of
the same place. Now, my dear friend, consult
with Dom Gil as to the proposition I made

on, while I go to my cabin to dress for our
ourne .”

He bowed politely, never seeming to notice
that Dom Gil was looking at Hart in a manner
showing great astonishment, and then crossed
over to where the fair Lorelia had pinned
O’Shea. into a corner, where she was exercising
all her wiles upon him.

“Do on think, madame,” he asked, “that
V_ you co (1 be content in these poor quarters for
a few days? If so, I will ask you to make the
yacht your home while we are away. Captain

O’Shea you I believe, have been in the artil—
lery. I will ask you to remain in the acht
aw-

while I 1go after your other friend, Miss
ton. P ease take charge of the defense, in case
any of these Arab rascals think to im ose on
you, while I am away with the men. en un-
derstand the Gatling mitrailleur, senhor i”

“ I do that, your grace,” was the hearty reply.
“How many men will ye Pave?"

" Not more than a dozen, scnhor. I shall
want all the rest to cow Fyzoul Abdallah.”

“ And how many Gatlin sl”

“Three. One for each ank, and one for the
stern and bow.”

O’Shea nodded his head, well satisfied.

“ Bedad, that’s enough to bate 03 any uantity
of the black divfls. I’ll stay, yer hon— mane,
yer grace.”

Clarence noted that the duke, in speaking to
O’Shea, took a curt military tone and that the
Irishman seemed to for et at times, that he
i was no longer in the ran . his expressions be-
tfig less those of an ofllcer than a common sol-

er.

The duke was turning away, when the Hon.
Lorelle, looking horrified, made bold to inter-

e.
po‘s‘ Surely your grace does not intend to leave
me alone in this boat ?”
The Brazilian bowed with the utmost suavit .
“ It is a choice, dear madame, between e
yacht and Ihore- It you do not like better to
return among the Alfabs, I should say, stay
here. I hold my tion among these rufilans
only by terror. hey would sack the acht in
one hour were it not for my mitrail eurs.
cannot take you with me, for we shall probably
haveto fight our way back, and shall not want
any ladies with us but those with whom it is a
ice between death among the Arabs or peril
with“. You, madame, are sale, here.”
' was they he ran down into the eabin, where

 

he was heard calling to his servants, while Dom
Gil gave some orders in Portuguese, in conse-
quence of which the yacht was soon a scene of
bustle from stem to stem.

Men ran up and down the hatches, snatched
the cases oil! the dozen or more Gatlin s with
which the yacht was armed, and lug e out a
number of audin decorated came saddles
from the holcE

For about twenty minutes all was seeming
hurry and disorder, though in truth each man
was running to his place; and at the end of that
time a flotil a of shore boalsmoved off from the
yacht, carrying a large part of her crew and
great heaps of aggage; while the Duke of Dia-
mantina, accom anied by Dom Gil Graballor
and Clarence art, sat in the graceful white
gigand skimmedrapidly past the other boats.

larence could not elp agreeing with the
duke’s eulogy of Dom Gil. That person was in—
deed a man of wonderful energy. He had eu-
gaged every camel in Tnat and sent forward a
horseman to bid for forage on the road had
hired guides and scouts in profus.on, and had
the whole caravan ready to start in less than
an lli‘our from the time they had left the 3 acht’s
dec

They were a sufficiently formidable array
and armed with all the latest improvunents in
weapons of precision, while eight bright gleam—
ing mitrailleurs gleamcd from the camel saddles
at intervals alon the column, where donkeys
and other beasts o burden alternated with men
on foot. The duke himself, no longer in his
simple dark-blue yichtin g suit, was mounted on
a swift dromcdary, covered with magnificent
housings, and seemed to Clarence for the first
time to deserve the title of the “Diamond
Duke.” His costume was that of an Oriental
cavalier with inted steel helmet, mail—coat,
turban, heron-p umes, 'acl:et and full trowscrs,
high enameled boots, a l of his dross gleamin
with jewels, while the handle of his sword an
the butts of Iiis pistols and carbine fairly blazed
with brilliants.

He looked asif he had set himself up on high,
tauntin the covetous Arabs with his wealth,
and dar n them to take it if they could.

Dom Gi , on another dromedziry, went tro‘r-
ting around the caravan, as busy and anxious
as a hen with a new brood, getting everything
into sha for their journey. Since the dui e
had spo en to him of Clarence, he had kept
near the young man, as if to protect him, occa-
sionally makin suggestions and giving advice,
in his quaint ortuguese-Englis , which Hart
f0 (1 it convenient to adopt.

ow at last they were clear of Tuat, and
stretching out over the mud flat toward the
mountains, when Dom Gil pulled up his camel
by the duke’s side and said in a low tone:

“The Sultan of Dereeyah has had s ice on
the yacht for a month, and we shall ave a.
light to get out of the city; though they have
determined to let us in peaceably.

The duke answered, tranquilly:

“So much the worse for them.”

CHAPTER VIII.
FYZOUL ABDALLAII.

Frzoun ABDALLAH, Sultan of the Wahabee
kingom of Deree ah whose name is a terror
from Oman to t e Djowf, was watching his
horses exercise in the park, when his favorite
slave, Seyd, brought him a letter from Nubar
al Hayzari, (the left-handed) his prime minister
which caused him to smile in a peculiarly evil
fashion and remark piously:

“God is Most Great and the Infldels are in
our hands.”

Fyzoul Abdallah was a tall and well-made
man, with keen, regular features and coal-black
beard, and yet the general impression made by
his appearance was always repulsive and fear-
inspiring to strangers. There was a certain
length and obliquit to his half-closed eyes, a
cruel, sensual curl his red, voluptuous lips,
that told of the irresponsible despot, given to
debauche .

Yet Fyzoul Abdallah was known through all
Arabia as a. Wahabee of Wahabees, as strict in
his devotions and tastings, uriflcations and
prayers, as a Puritan in the ays of Cromwell.

he Wahabees have always been the fanatical
Puritans of Moslemism; and Fyzoul Abdalleh
gained his power and popularity by being
stricter than any of his predecessors. _

He was the originator of the renowned Stick
Committee, com osed of the most sedate and
sober eldes of he city of Dcree 'ah, whose
business it is to patrol the streets while the faith-
ful are at pra er in the mesque, and to pumfih
an one foun outside durin prayer time.

e Stick Committee put fiown all dissent in
Deree ahb the simple recess of beating the
oflen er wi hinan inch 0 his life; and never a
villain in all the city but would run like a bare
when he saw the white beards of the Stick Com—
mittee turn the corner, coming toward him. .

Fyzoul Abdallah had abolished the Wearing
of gold and silver in his city, and silk was only

rmitted to men of [piety-what our Metho-
gieats would call “ pro essing” members of the
church.

Wine was never heard of in public, though
some of the ge‘aoeless sinners in neighboring

 

towns hinted that there were rivate wine-cel-
lai‘s 1in Dereeyah, even under yzoul Abdallah’s
cast 9.

In short, the city was the worthy capital of
Wahabeeism; for never a laugh was heard in
its streets from morning to ni ht, and the sound
of prayer was incessant. very face was
grave, every eye downcast, as if at a perpetual
revival meeting.

Fyzoul Alidallah, nevertheless, had an un-
deniably villainous grin on his face as he read
Nnbar a1 Hayzari’s letter. He was a very holy
man; but he had an unfortunate expression.

“Allah has given this infidel fool into our
hands Seyrl,” he observed, to the black, whom
he allowed much license. “ It seems that
Haroun, the pearl -dealer, has decoved him
hithe’i; after a white girl slave that is on the
way.

“She is here,” interrupted Seyd. showing his
white teeth. “ The camels were inside the
palace gate, and the white .irl had taken off her
vail the bold huss i when saw her.”

“ ndecd ?” ask the kin .

“ Yes, dread lord; and tEe elders of the stick
soon made her put up the val] again. She look-
(d pale and sick, I suppose with the heat; but
thcv soon beat her into submission.”

F zoul Abdallah grinned again.

“gt is well not to give women much head,
Seyd. A stick for the ass and the woman are
never out of place.”

The face of the black was more openly vil-
lainous than that of his master and the‘pair
looked as they were, a blot on the face of one
of the fairest scenes in Nature.

The interior Highlands of Arabia, under their
native title of El Nedjed (The High), are still
more deserving of the appellation iven them
by the old geographers, Arabia Fe ix, Happy
Arabia; or as Pope puts it: “ Araby the Blest.”
With an elevation such as to temper the heat;
abundance of little lakes formed by depressions
in the mountains; a soil teemingswith fertili ,
the whole face of the country covered wi h
walled towns, small and great, where the people
maintain to-duy the same civilimtion which
their ancestors taught Europe.

To those who are accustomed to associate
sandy deserts, ragged Bcdouins, flocks of cam—
els and predatory tribes with the name of
Arab, a Visit to the provinces of chams, De-
recyah and the Djowf would be like a revela-
tion of fairyland. The only trouble about the
visit lies in the fierce fanaticism of the Waba-
bees, who suspect all Europeans to be spies.

Shut out b their own jealousy from foreign
influence an compelled to depend entirelY On
their own resourCeS, the high-bred Arabs of the
pure old stock remain as they were in the days
of the Crusades, glorying in their lineage. and
calling themselves Arab cl Arabah, “ Arabs of
the Arabs.”

Dei'eeyah is in the richest part of the Nedjqd,
a walled city of flity thousand e le, rebmlt
since its destruction by Ibrahim his is in 1818;
full of handsome houses and gardens, and al-
most hidden from view by the mass of palms
figs, walnuts and olives that surround it on all
sides. The sparkle of innumerable waters
shows where the brooks are compelled to wmd
in and out in their artificial channels to irri-
gate the fields of cotton, sorghum, maize, Wheat
and barley; while the air is heavy With the pcr-
fume of roses, jasmines, and innumerable spice

groves.

Fyzoul Abdallah's summer palace stands on a
precipitous hint! that commands most of the
city, and is a large and lm 1115! though gloomy
buildin , built in the two th century for a cas-
tle, an never much changed.

Below the castle, on the side away from the
city, stretch the king’s park.and stables, and
here Fyzoul Abdallah keeps his crowning glory
of lories, his horses.

nctimonious scoundrel the h be be, the
King of Dereeyah can defy the w ole world to
show such horses as these. The glo of Epsom
and Monmouth Park, the kings of he turf in
England and Kentuck . cannot compete with
the swift beauties of zoul Abdallah’s stud.
There are fine horses among the Bedouins of the
Euphrates, handsome chargers in the Djowf;
but the pure Arabian of Nedjed is above all,
end cannot be purchased for money. Success-
In] war or a present of ceremonyto a distin-
guished person may draw onepf these beauties
at long intervals from its native home, but no
foreigner has .ever been able to obtain more
than one at atlmc, SO. Jealous are the Arabs of
the preservation of this matchless breed in their
own hands.

While Fyzoul Abdallah was talking in his
usual familiar manner to black Seyd, the
grooms were taking the whole of his stud to
water, some four or five hundred stallions and
mares. gray. bay and chestnut, the latter colors

redommatin ; and a racing jockey would

"0 been I‘ y to kneel down and worship ev—
ery one of the slim s irited creatures that can-
tered by, tossing t e 1‘ pointed m'uzzles to and
fro, snorting and shakln their long silk
manes, looking at their ma r with their so
dark eyes, and neigbing a greeting as they
passed. Such horses would fetch enou h at
auction in New York to bankrupt Vand

 

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But, while we are ecstasizing over the horses
-—for 've us, for we love a beautiful horse—~Fy-
zoul bdallah is reading over his letter. again
and chuckling immensely at the news it con-
tains. It :

“Fatherof the faithful Wahabees; the Christian
lord the call the JeWeled Prince is within sight of
Dereey and has sent Haroun the Pearl-Dealer as
his embassador to ask an audience to ransom the
white girl who has just arrived. He has a numer-
ous cornpany with him, but the are not white
devils. I have given him permi. on tocome into
the cit and we will quarter him in the court below
the ol palace, where we can pick his bones when he
isasleep."

The kin wassomuch pleased With the last
sentence t t he read it ovor aloud to Seyd, re.

marking: .

“Nubar Al Hayzari is a wise man. This
Lord of the Jewels has been spying round our
coasts long enough. Now he has run his head
into the lion’s mouth, and we will see if he gets
out so easily. Have you seen his caravan,
Seydl”

‘No, dread lord; but Haroun’s people say
that they have enough guns to arm all our

7:

Fyzoul Abdallah smiled his most evil smile,
as he observed:

“Guns are no use to sleepers, and if they
gverpwake We shall have the weapons—eh,

d

yd laughed heartin in the shrill, unnatural
tones of his class, and the king turned away to
walk back to his summer castle: when his eye
was caught by the glitter of arms at the out-
skirts of his own park coming directly toward
the castle.

“Who is it dares come in, that way?” he an-
gril asked Boyd.

The black stared that way, as much amazed
as his master. He knew that the wateriifi
pools lay there and that access to the my
stud from that direction was a matter punish-
able with death. There, however, plain and
unmistakable in the sun was the glitter of arms;
and acrowd of camels and men on horseback
could be seen rapidly advancin over the undu-
lating green rk, while the w ole of Fyzoul’s
stud, huddle into a confused mob, .was gal-
loping away from before the advancmg cara-

van.

The king stamped his foot with fury, and his
countenance lowered till it looked perfectlyr
diabolical. He snapped his fingers at Bey ,
and the black understood the signal. for he ran
off to the palace, whence a groom galloped out
a moment later, leading a caparisoned Arab
horse which he gave to the king.

Full of an r at the audacious intrusion. F‘y-
zoul A called to his horse, and away it
went like an arrow from the bow, as swift and
almost as smooth, bearing the king up to the
front of the incoming caravan.

 

CHAPTER IX.
ran DUKE’S vxsrr.

szom. ABDALLAH was unarmed. It had
not occurred to him that he was in any sort of
danger in his own capital, and his guards

tto be within easy. call. When he halted
i’ililfil-Jmt of the caravan, therefore, it was with
the tone of an absolute and angry despot that
he shouted:

“Stop, sons of burnt fathers! How dare ye
enter my park? Back, all of you, if you don’t
want to be made food for crows !”

To his intense surprise and incredulous
amazement, the la in the caravan ke t

htonasifth pliagsnot heard him' and t_e
on each si e rode t him and leaped in
behgisd, when he found self surroun ed by
a circle of armed men, and confronted b a
littering figure on a white dromedary, t_
he at once rec 'zed from previous description
as the “ Lord 0 allt .Igewels,”tithe Arabic aobn-
t for the Duke 0 iaman na.
quiet was the duke himself, with his habitual
slight smile and lazy courtesy, who addremed
the king in good Arabic, marked With the
Caiirgge accent, as Fyaoul Abdallah per-
ce v

“All the world has heard of the glory and
riches of Sultan Fzzoul, whose name the ter-
ror of Arabia. ve come all the way from
the other side of the earth to behold him, and I
am happy at last.”

Fyzouls face underwent several chan es of
expression while the duke was speakin , or be

u to realize that he was, for the Il'me be-
ing, in the power of this sin lar man. But he
was too much a master of dimimulation not to
end with a smooth countenance and the re-

mark:

“My brother is very welcome. We have
heard of the jewels of my brother, and the
reality exceeds the tale. My brother must
come to my house, that we may eat “It to
gather.” .

Diamantina smiled and waved his hand.

“ Be it so. I have brought a few little hum- ,

ble presents for my brother, which I will show
him when we are home.”

intolli ce delighted the king, who was
03.3  and he turned his

1

The Duke ongiamonds._u_

 '7

 

horse and rode back to the palace as good-hu-
moredly as if he had never been angry .and
dismounted at the gate where he cordially
welcomed in the duke and his retinue.

“But how comes it, m brother,” he asked,
astheystood there “the you came this way
instead of by the city as I had ordered?”

His tone was liar, and not anmenacing
as he said this; but Diamantina looked straight
into his eyes as he answered:

“Because I am a kin myself, in m, own
land, and I have never as ed the Padisha him-
self for an audience. I take no Words from
ministers; I talk to my brother kings face to
face.

The glance of Fyzoul fell before his, and the
Arabian looked uneasily round him. The fact
was he was almost alone in his palace servants
and uards having gone down With the minis-
ter, ubar a1 Hayzari, into the city, on pu
to decoy the duke and his escort into a trap of
some sort.

Even while he was talking, he could hear the
bustle made by their hasty return, and in the
meantime he was absolutely in the power of
this im ing stranger.

The uke seemed not uninclined to make him
feel this for he continued:

“ My brother received a white slave to-day,
stolen from her own and in people, by Haroun
the pearl-dealer. I hope t at my brother '
allow me to give a ransom for her. ”

Fyzoul waved his hand, loftily.

“ We will see, we will see. I have a fancy
for a white wife, who is not a Georgian or Cir-

“ Nevertheless,” remarked the duke, tran uil-

l , “ my brother will sell her to me. Su tan
zoul knows what are jewels. I will give him
this saber for the girl.”

The kin ’8 eyes glittered with avarice as he
looked at e saber the other took from a slave
and showed him, for the hilt and scabbard were
of (gold, and blazed with diam' onds, emeralds,
an rubies.

“ That were indeed a present fit for one king
to give another,” he remarked, in his most oily
manner, but Diamantina only smiled his usual
quiet and unruflied smile, as he waved the slave
back with the saber.

“In my land, kings never give arms to their
friends. We have a saying that a sharp blade
cuts friendship. I have a robe of honor for m
brother, but my arms are for barter for g
that my brother has.”

He had taken his seat unbidden, on the divan
by the king’s side, at the upper end of the hall,
and Dom Gil with Clarence and some
thirtéemen of the yacht’s crew all armed to
the th were gosped near by in the ball
when Nuhar a1 zari, pale and breathless
entered the hall in haste, ollowed by a. crowd
of excited Arabs, with naked swords in their
118111.23, and stopped in mute astonishment at the

e duke sat close to F zoul, and never -
edtoturnhis head as t eArabs entered. e
knew, from his guide, that firearms were scarce
in the city owing to the isolation of the Ned 'ed,
and he could trust to Dom Gil not to allow '
to be surprised.

“ My brother is a great king and he will send
for the white woman,” remarked the Duke of
Diamantina, in his most 1?“th tones; but the
quick ear of Fyzoul Abda ah caught the click
of istol-locks all round him as the Brazilian’s
re nue edged in closer round him.

.Two great drops of sweat rolled down the
king’s forehead, and he answered, in a con-
Stwfilglme: will 1* u N baralHayzari,

t as ou . e u '
and he will obey the order.”

Diamantina beckoned to his little black slave,
who handed him a lace of paper, covered with
Arabic words toga er with an ink-horn of true
Arabian fashion.

“ My brother’s signet on this order will b '
fie 9slave,” he said, quietly, “ and the saber is

. For a moment Fyzoul Abdallah looked round
like a hunted animal seeking a way to escape,
but met onl stern, impassive faces, and hands
thrust into road sashes on pistol butts.

Then he gaye a hoax sigh and took at his
signet ring, With which e stamped the paper,
a tera has _perusal. It was an order, ready
written, ca mg for the slave just purchased
of Haroun, the l-merchant.

The duke han ed it to Dom Gil, who at once
stalked over to Where Nubar and the guards,
complete] dumbfounded, stood hesitating whe-
ther to tig t or not. The_long Iank Brazilian
waved the paper before him and spo e aloud:

“Put up your swords. I have an order from
Sultan Fyzoul.” .

The sound of their master's name had a magi-
cal eifect on the Arabs, for Nubar bowed his
face to the earth immediately and the rds
sheathed their swords in silence as Dom il con-
tin ed

 

u 2

“ M master, the kinE'of Jewels, has come to
visit is brother the mg of Deree ah. My
1 master’s men Will guard be king w ile they
i are mlkfig over a treaty between their king-
doms. the meantime conduct me where this
‘ order tells you."

 

 

Nubar a1 Hayzari placed his hands on his
head in token of obedience and receded Dom
Gil from the room, while the uke turned to
the king and resumed their interrupted conver-
sation as if at home on his acht.

“M brother is Verv 'nd to me and I
shoul like much to see his horses. Will Sul-
tan Fyzoul give orders to have them dis-
“iie‘li” 1 W...

e in eager assen for he was
of his stud3 and lony d totgi’on horseback once
more. He flatte himself they could nottrap
him a second time.

The duke made no objection as the king rose
and went out of .the castle, when he called to
his grooms to bring out the horses: and as for
Clarence Hart, the American could not keep
back a cry of delight and wonder as the beauti-
ful creatures were trotted out for inspec-

tion.

Fyzoul Abdallah noticed it and an evil smile
crossed his face as he asked the duke whether
his friend “ would not like to try one of the
horses.”

Clarence, when the words were interpreted
to him, positively trembled with eagerness, but
Diamantina laid his hand softly on the young
man’s shoulder as he said in En lish:

“My dear sir, do not think 0 it. We have a
delicate game to Ela , and I would not like to
lose you. Yous ride one of these horses,
but not now. The wish to entice you away
and hold on for a ostage.”

To the 'ng he said coollv in Arabic:

“This is my servant. In my country, none
ride but the king. ”

“ Then let us both ride my brother,” was the
crafty response. “I will tell them to saddle
Al Sabok and Hamama forus. Theyare the
flower of the stud.”

The duke made no objection and at a '
from Fyzoul the ooms led forward a y
stallion with blac points whose grace and
symmetry exceeded anything the other had
ever seen before. This was Al Sabok (the
Swift), who, if his looks belied him not, was the
king of all horses. Beside him was a‘ mare,
equally beaut but of a delicate bluish

y, who went y the title of Hamama (the

ve.) ,

Diamantina looked at her keenly and then re-
marked to Fyzoul:

“Your mare is not as good as our horse.
She has had her shoulder sprained, or I see the
old mark of a blister.”

For a moment Fyzoul looked ashamed not of
the trick, but of being found out; then he said
harshly to the :

“ Fool, that’s not Hamma, I mean. It was
Al Kader the Clever One) that I bid thee
brin .  e quickl .”

This time it was a c estnut horse much like
Al Sabok that came forward, but here again
the duke’s eye criticall exami ' the animal
saw the streaks of the firing—iron nside the OR
hock. He said nothing, however, till the king
courteoust waved him forward, saying:

“ Mount, my brother. Al Kader is a swallow
for d, a cat for his sure feet. ”

“ everthe ess,” answered the duke, 
the action to the word, “ I would rather try
Sabok.”

And in a moment he was in the saddle.

'Fyaoul Abdallah’s face contorted itself into a
hideous writhin smile of diszppointed malig-
mty as be slow y mounted Radar, for he
saw that his plan was discovered but he made
no remark as the duke rode out into the park,

leavmg Clarence Hart in command of the

ple of he acht, gathered around the hall cor
indside w ' their camels were lying dowu out-
si e.

The king noticed with wonder the b ' t
mitrailleurs on the saddles of some of
camels. . He understood their use at once, for
the Persians have used camel guns called sam-
boureks for more than a century, but the poet‘s
liar shape of the Gatling gun puzzled him.

“ What are those, my brother?” he asked.

The duke made a quiet signal to the nearest
man who stood by his kneeling camel’s dde, and
instantly the gun was slewed round on its swivel
and gmted into the park.

“ .ould the sultan like to see my killing
machines i” asked the Brazilian, languidl .
“ let him put his whole army out in the r
and I can mow them down like grass with hog.
my guns. See that tree yonder. My man M
cultiit down.” h to th rm

epointedouttetree ea 'le
to whom he spoke in Hindostanee, and tgmm'man
saluted res tfully. pOinted his gun, and turn-
ed the era of the already loaded machine.

The eflect on the sultan was complete. He '
saw the steady stream of bullets go sla i
into the little tree With a ceaseless flow
to led and fell, and his face turned of a gray
polar as he said, falterin 1y:

«Wig’the work of Eb  You areamighty

clan.
mm duke stopped the flrin with one of his
silent sepals ‘

“'l‘hatis onl to show you what Icendoif I

am attacked. 'ere comes my amou- with tho
I see i)

woman, .
_ Dom Gil was indeed coming book.

; a
a»;

W»... ...,..- uh...“

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.-._e ....-.

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. .--..‘...~
. -_-—-—‘uw

~..-.

~.:..-.n'~....~.. A
.

 

 

THE FLOWER or CALCUTTA.

WITH Dom Gil came a single female figure
closely vailed, and the Duke of Diamantina laid
his hand softly on the king’s bridle and said,
gentl but firmly:

“ ome, my brother,
some woman and gain
us 0 in.”

e barbarian—for Fyzoul was after all, a
barbarian—was sufficiently cowed by the civil-
ized man to 'eld in silence, and the duke rode
up to the h 1 door and dismounted after the
king, who tame] reéntered the castle.

As they went in Clarence heard Diamantina
say in En lish to Dom Gil:

‘Seize at once.”

Dom Gil nodded, and then Clarence forgot
everything else in the interest excited by the
{fled figure that had just been ushered into the

The duke beckoned him forward to the dais
where the woman was already standing, and
then said in English:

“ I will beg the lady to take ofl her vail that
Senhor Hart may be able to see if she is his
friend.”

Immediately the woman unvailed, and Cla-
rence saw be ore him the Flower of Calcutta,
pale and sad, as if she had no hope for life.

Poor Helen flushed scarlet when she met the
eyes of the Brazilian. It was evident that no
one had told her anything of what was about to
happen, and the surprise of hearing her own
Ian age in such a scene was great.

on she recognized Clarence Hart beside the

duke and her eyes lighted up again with hope,

{gr she began to realize that ransom was at
n

The Duke of Diamantina looked at her pale
beautiful face for a moment with undisfiuise
admiration and en rise, and then asked art:

“My dear sir, wi 1 you introduce me to this
lady so unfortunate?” ,

Stammering—he hardly knew why—and feel-
ing strangely embarrassed, Hart repeated the
formal words that sounded so unnatural in that
wild hold of Arabian desperadoes.

“Miss Lawton, the Duke of Diamantina.”

Helen started and looked at the other with
swimming eyes, her face all suffused with
blushes.

“ Oh senhor duke,” she said, in a stifled
voice, ‘I never expected to see you in such a
place as this.”

Diamantina had taken the o portunity of flx-
ing his eyes on hers while 5 o spoke, as if in
paying strict attention- but there was some-
th ng so singular in his glance that Helen’s blush
grew deeper and deeper, and she finally drop-
ped her eyes in confusion.

The Brazilian, with the cool, unruflied ease
which alwa s marked him, bowed low before
her and rep 'ed:

“ Ma dear ladee, I am charmed to be able to
do a slight service to one so well known as the
daughter of that eminent person, Bare Lomley
Lawtone.”

She looked up in uick surprise.

“Oh sir, do you ow my poor darling fa-
ther? ’What would he say if he knew the dan-
g; I have run? Perhaps you have a father,

, your grace?”

Diamantina’s face altered, and a reserved, of-

fended expremion crossed it as he turned away,

say-lag curtly:
‘ y father is dead, mademoiselle.”

Fyzoul Abdallah had listened to this English
conversation in dumb embarrassment, still sur-
rounded by the duke’séieople, for his own men
did not know what to 0.

They saw their master seated quietly on the
divan'in the midst of the white strangers, to all
apsearance chatting with the jeweled chief,
an the did not dare to make a fight on ac-
count 0 his risk.

Now however, Diamantina altered his tone.
He ordered his men to draw away from Fy-
zoul, and beckoned Nubar a1 Hayzari and his

ards to surround their king once more in the

which they erly hastened to do. He
laid the eweled sa r at Fmoul’s feet, and
drew bac to the door of the 11, saying, in a
clear and distinct voice:

“Our bargain is ended, brother. I have the
slaves' you have the price of them. Now
let us have peace and friendship, while I show
my blgitlier the presents I haVe brought to De-

a

ut, already Fyzoul Abdallah was a different
man. His were round him and a waist:

on have lost a trouble-
a faithful sword. Let

T retreat was open; so that his fears vanis

and his malice arose in arms. He had been
cheated and cowed b this stranger, and had
bought himself out of ’Fower. ow was the
time to be revenged. urning to Nubar a1
Hayzari, he whispered:

‘ Rouse all the city. Seize_the passes. Let
not one man escape. We Will have all their
riches now.” .

Nubar nodded and 5h ped away among the
guards while Fyzoul rep ed to the duke in his
most oily manner:

“ Let us not think olfdpresents when one great
king visits another. y brother must eat with
me at once. 30! Boyd, bring in the dishes

rd of Horses.”

But to his surprise Diamantina did not offer
to stir from the door, and a smile not devoid of
derision was on his face as he answered:

“I have heard too much of Fyzoul Abdallah’s
fare to be anxious to eat thereof. I might not
sleep easily at night after it. I will give my
presents and take my leave, for my home is on
the sea.”

Fyzoul Abdallah was not at all put out. He
was too consummate a villain and too secure in
his own power to fear the duke’s ultimate es-
cape, though he felt a little virtuous anxiety to
absorb his possessions by the safe way of pelson
rather than trustto the chances of ambushing
the caravan on its way to Tuat.

He concealed all this anxiety under a smooth
exterior, bowing and smiling:

“ Since my brother is desirous to return to
Tuat, far be it from me to detain him. My

oung men shall ride to the coast with him, and

egg away all the robbers on the road.”
is time the duke smiled so openly that
Fyzoul could no longer think he was being de-
ceived.

“ My own men and my camel guns can clear
a road to Tuat ” he re lied. “ I am trul
thankful to my brother or his hospitality.
notice that he has but few camels. I hope he
will accept with favor this my little resent.”

He waved his hand, and into the all sham-
bled all the camels and donkeys with which his
caravan had been rovided, savin the gun ani-
mals and their f0 owers that h been loaded
with ammunition. The donkeys Were all un-
saddled, but the riding camels were still hand-
somely ca isoned, and over the housings of
the foremost—the same late] ridden by the
duke—was hung a splendid ro of scarlet silk
with a velvet mantle above it.

Fyzoul Abdallah started to his feet, feeling
that he was being tricked and insulted, but ex-
act] how he knew not; and his guards instinc-
tive y drew their cimeters to keep off the irrup—
tion of beasts of burden.

The duke stood alone in the oplen doorway
and waved his hand ironically to t e sultan.

“ Farewell, my brother,” he said. “ I am in

eat haste to reach Tuat; therefore I shall ride

1 Sabok in self. I leave you Al Radar and
Hamama. ey were very good animals, twen-
ty'lyears ago.”

hen he vanished out of the doorway, and
the astounded king clapped his hands to his
head and yelled in despair, as the full force of
the situation struck him:

“Allah’s curse upon them! They have stolen
my horses I”

And indeed there was no sort of doubt about
it. The frantic Fyzoul rushed to the door, and
saw that the whole of his stud was in the foe’s

on, vanishin with the speed of the wind
n the direction of t e Tuat road!

Al Kader and Hamama, the only two blem-
ished animals of the entire stable, were still
standing at the door. Diamantina had left be-
hind him convincing proofs of his knowledge of
horseflesh.

For several minutes the Arab chief was so ut-
terly overwhelmed by the suddenness of the
blow that he could do nothing but tear his heard
in impotent rage.

Then Nubar a1 Hayzari who had paused and
come back at the sound of the escape, ventured
to speak to his master, and his words were full
of astute consolation.

“ Allis not lost, my master: they can go no
faster than the camels with the zamboureks "’
(thus he called the Gatlings). “ We can ta e
them all back in the passes. Al Kader will
stand a day’s work, yet. ’

Fyzoul listened, and his face cleared up a lit-
tle. After all, a blemished Nedjed horse is
swifter than a perfect animal of any other breed.

“ Take him and go,” was all he said in answer
to N ubar, and the minister answered: '

“ On my head be it.” _

A moment later he was flying toward the city
like the wind. Al Kader had been fired for a
s avin, it is true; but no one would have

reamed of it to see the way the beautiful crea-
ture skimmed over the ound as swift at
twent -two as the best colt n the Derby entries.

In t e meantime, as Nubar had from the first
predicted the caravan of Diamantina could ad-
vance no f
bore the Gatling guns; which, with their sad-
dies and riders, weighed about four hundred
pounds.  burden camel will carry twice as
much, but its pace is slow; and if pressed to a.
trot it cannot preserve that pace to any distance
without feat distress.

Nevert eless Dom Gil, who had assumed the
management of the caravan kept u a rapid
amble all that afternoon, till the shadgs of 0V0-
ning closed around them, when the camel!
gan to flag and fall, and a halt was called.

It was in an open valley, where a lar 0 spring
gave birth to a running rivulet, that he cara-
van of Diamantina now went into cam i the

un camels being?i unloaded, and the dead Y 11‘“
railleurs traine to command all the approach-

es.
Not an Arab-had-been seen a] day, and Hart

 

remarkde the duke:-. , .
. l# '3”...

m... .

aster than the pace of the camels that ‘

"zr- "—1 “6—14 ’ 7‘>.,~'-'tf$"" =f”?}.‘2§’.‘3;‘.f:‘?i‘:fr Emuw. ‘ -::.;:w;:=,-,i<-2:‘:-::z-;.;u: 91;: -:.~~.-.:7-.-: 1;: “~22- use :2, 2112*,”2‘. . ~-
8 The Duke of Diamonds.
CHAPTER X. uickly. The Lord of Jewels dines with the “ We seem to have given themthe slipat last,

senhor duque.”

Diamantina smiled as he answered, in his
tra‘n uildway:i d begins

‘ y earsr our anger to- ht.”

“Then do yoil think there is danger hat we
ma not reach the coast?”

shall reach the coast—some of us. It is a ques-
tion how many will do it, alive.” ‘

CHAPTER XI.
Tm: ENCAMPMENT.

As the sun went down that night it left the
moon in the zenith, half full, and under her
mild beams the camp was soon in fair order.
Clarence had noticed, when leaving the yacht,
that the duke was traveling very light, having
hardly any of the bagga one might expect
from one of his luxurious abits.

A single tent of silk, very light and compact,
was all that he carried besides food, and this
was at once appropriated to the use of the res—
cued Helen, who was secluded in true Oriental
fashion.

Durin the rapid ride from Dereeyah, Clarence
Hart ha not had a single opportunity to speak
to the woman he loved, though he had louse:a
ine ressibly, to do so. He had seen her plac
by t e duke‘s own hands on one of Fyzoul’s
horses, and, from that time forth, Diamantina
had remained close to her side, from which the
res t of etiquette banished every one else.

arence himself felt this restraint as strongly
as any one, though he fought against it, and
strove to muster courage enough to ride up be-
side Helen and on her in conversation. He
tried to argue w1th himself that he was the
Brazilian’s equal, that he had not yet sees
the post of secretary to the whims of 3. mil ion-
aire. It was all in vain. A subtle influence that
he could not divine, kept him divided from the
woman he loved, and he was com lied to ride in
the rear, out of earshot, while elen was con-
versin in the most animated manner with this
lend dly handsome man, this combination of
grooms and Adonis, who could do anything be
leased with almost an woman he met, as

arence bitterly though .

In fact, the young man, having once saved
this girl’s life and having good reason to believe
that she was not indifferent to him, was now

 

l
l
l

and admiration he had fe t for Diamantina rap- ‘
idl turnin to bitter hatred. ‘
everthe ess, such was the fascination of this
sin lar man over all around him, that no soon—
er 'd Hart listen to his melodious “ Ma dear
sare,” and see his wonderful smile when he spoke
to him at the halt, than all his uneasiness van-
ished to the winds, and he felt ready to fonow
Diamantina wherever he chose to lead.

All the same, however, the duke effectually
debarred him from seeing Helen; for no sooner
did she dismount, than the tent was raised.
into which the lady was ushered by Diamantina-
himself, after which she was no more seen that
night exceglt by the duke’s little black boy, W110
took them their supper.

Clarence would have fretted at this had it
not been for the exquisite tact of the d I e, who
kept him in conversation, asldng him 1118 0pm-
ion of this and that, strolled with him round
the defenses of the little camp, Ind “V9 him
charge of two of the th the remark:
“ M dear sir, I shall ho (1 you respondble it “19
Ara get in on your side. We have ‘1 r6010“
treasure to rd, and we must not go slee ,
orFyzoulA allahwill wake us upwhen e
moon sets.”

Clarence caught at two of the other’s words,
and echoed:

“ A precious treasure, indeed. Oh, senhor, if

on knew how precious she is to me! I saved
her from the sea once. God grant I do it from
the Arabs.” ,

Diamantina leaned his hand on the shoulder
of the American, as he answered:

“My dear sir, she may be precious to you;
but, I warn you, keep from 1161', as you value
your hap inessl She shall be saved, and I will

ve her k to her father, if it costs me the

veg of every man here. But, take my advic.’
and think no more of this lady.”

Clarence looked at the Brazilian in some m-

prisgvand managed tghansxer:
“ h do ousay is me our
“ Beczuse see that you are hint ogri‘ncfing

ourself miserable,” was the quiet re 1 , u M
ear 811'» you are an Ammican, undply love afi
Americans for the sake of on 3 to whom I owe
flute and liberty. You do not know these Eng-
” I do 811': they are as cruel as the tiger,
as selfish as the SWine. Do you think that his
Sir Lumley Lawton would give on his daughter
because on loved her and she oved on! No
no my ear sir! That man would se his child
tobatan himself, if the dark ntleman would
at on the likeness of a lord ‘71 PM“08 1110090-
i1? ! bengised. Leave these En t1.1811 “them-
88 Ves, or there is a cum 11 11 9111—5011139
that will yet wither and b st them to aahu
and dust I’
The American with wonder on DIE
mantina, for his usually calm and frigid mm

 

nor had changed to one of intense

‘ My dear sir,” was the quiet answer, “wot :

miserably jealous, and began to feel all the love 

't

 

 

 

 

 

 

and his eyes glowed like burning coals aslie
gesticulated with true southern fervor.

“Ah your grace.” returned Clarence, in a
melanc oly tons, “ Iknow that I have little or
no hope in loving this lady, but my heart is
stronger than my sense. 1 cannot help loving
her. s she not ovely?”

Diamantina shrugged his shoulders and re-
tired into his usual frigid mask.

“My dear sir, I never argue. Be pleaSed to
see to your duties on this side the camp. These
men understand English. 110513 of them are
Lascars or cx-scpoys. ”

lVith a slight military salute he left Clarence
to his own devices, and strolled oil‘ to the other
side of the camp, where he could be seen in close
conversation with Dom Gil.

Clarence Ilart, abashei to a degree he could
hardly have deemed pOSSille by the quiet au-
thority of a man he had only known about five
da , attended to his duties in silence.

vElle mm was laid out with a strict view to
defense. he horses Were fastened around an
inner square, eating their barley with the vigor-
ous appetite of Arabians, and around them was
drawn a chain of sentries each man sheltered
behind a little ile of saddles on which he could
rest his rifle. he Gatlings occupied the angles
of the defense, placed in pairs, and the ground
on the outside was clear and level, though the
camp itself was full of palm-trees around the
spring. The only weak point in the defense
was in the direction of the little stream that
issued from the spring. This was fringed with
bushes that spread out at intervals into thickets
and mi ht possibly conceal lurking toes, though
as et t ey had seen none.

larcnce with the truly American instinct
of distrust ng a cover near camp, thought he
would go over to Dom Gil and ask whether he
mi ht not have these bushes cut down.

0 Brazilian seemed to understand English
better than he spoke it, for he nodded aSsent to
Hart’s reasonin , but for all that he replied:

“ Oh, senhor uqbu: say no. 20 Arab-a s’all-a
come-a dat vay ’e all-a right-a.”

“ It will be all right if they come in that way?
But they can reach the camp in the dark per-

bass.”
om Gil laughed.

“ Perhaps-a! Ve s’all see. Go to your posk-a.
Ze moon ’0 s’all get low at dis hour. ’

Re lled again, for Dom Gil’s manner was de-
cid y brusque, Hart went back to his post
which was at one of the angles overlooking the
stream, Dom Gil occupying the other side, while
the duke himself could be seen walking up and
down the opposite face of the camp.

The moon Was now hanging just above the
mountains that hid them from Dereeyah and
had not more than five minutes to sta , when
the whole valley suddenly started into ife with
a motleythron of Arabs coming from the hills
all round. on orseback, on foot and camel-
back, rushing to and fro, yelling loudly and
firin into the camp.

Where a momen before had been peace, Pan-
demonium now reigned supreme. ,

As 10 as the moon remained in sight the as
sailants ept from a close assault; but assoon
as it sunk, and darkness fell over the valley,
down the camo with a swoo . and Clarence
could sect sir white cloaks fii ing past within
a few yards, while the bullets from their long
innskets went sin ng overhead. _

But all this w is the camp remained per-
fectl silent.

Thz cooking fires had been extinguished with
water long before the aim of the Arabs was
bad, and the only danger threatening the camp
was that of a hand-to- and fight in which num-
bers might crush them.

From this thgtwere saved a moment later.
U from the m of the cam soared a rocket
with a sudden hiss that the Arabs, who
had never seen an hiring the sort before, and
When it exploded t left the air not merely a
shower of stars but a blue 11 ht suspended from

a tin chute that illumined the valley for
s'ev hundred yards round, discovering a
swarm of Arabs.

_——-—n

CHAPTER XII.
We run omns'r.

line this mass of foes at pistol range, eight
Gatlings and some forty Winchester rifles sud-
denly opened fire, pourin in a storm of missiles
that cleft the mass as a s m of water might
dissolve a bank of new-fallen snow!

Only an instant the stood and then tied in
Wild confusion. the iti can fire of the beleaguer-
ed band pursuing t em under the light of three
more blue-light rockets, and leaving the whole
valley strewn with dead bodies of men and ani-

male.

For a little while the noise was deafenin , and
than the lights wen:K out) anti:I diggglfgld on;
the camp on] bro an _6 P 69 o
the wounded oyuizida left Eehmd by their com-

rude.
Garmhadbuntoo athism

to
“than ’ also,“ own bl!
Whig vac-«imam

I

 

l

’ ThePuks affluenc-

“My dear sir, they will not come back to— ‘

night. The will make their next stand in the
Pass of El tif."

“ Is your grace satisfied of that?”

“So much so that I am oing to sleep. Did
you notice how wild they ?’

“ Yes. Do they always do that?”

“ My dear sir, you do not understand. They
dare not fire low for fear of the horses. They
hoped to rush in and frighten them into run-
ning. but they have trained them too well to
frighten at firing. These horses will buy us the
road to the sea, my dear sir."

And the facts proved Diainaiitina to be right.
Not only did the Arabs disturb them no more
that night but next morning found the valley
empty even of the dead bodies, which had been
carried ofl‘, while the whole country was desert-
ed for miles.

They roceeded leisurely on their way, pass-
ing an .rab village and a town of no mean pre—
tensions, in both of which they saw nothin but
women and children; and noticed that a the
operations of a culture seemed to be entirely
suspended. Very able bodied man in the
country had vanished, and even Clarence could
not avoid a feeling of apprehension at the un-
wonted stillness.

That night they halted anion rocks in the
ruins of an old castle, and foun to their sur-
prise a store of barley for the horses with an
Arabic legend above it to the effect:

“ Allah will accept even a Christian who is kind to
a horse."

It was evident that Fyzoul Abdallah was
trembling for the fate of his darling horses, and
willing to make almost any sacrifice to get
them back. Clarence could not wonder at is

.anxiety when he looked at the beautiful crea-
tNunes round hian tThey were born war-horses.

ot a symptom o atigue appeared ii an one
of them, though they had marched forty {miss
a day. On 9 contrary, most of them were
fretting for a gallop in the evenin , and he felt
certain that but for the un came , they could
have been at Tuat in a s gle day’s ride.

No disturbance came near them that ni t
nor in the morning till they had come wi
about ten miles 0 Tuat, and approached the
eKdnggfof the Highlands by the narrow pass of El

Here at last they found their foes to the num-
ber of several thousand men, horse, foot and
camel riders, spread over the rocks around the
pass and evidently determined to stop fiu'ther
advance.

Clarence looked at them and felt a sinkin of
his heart for it seemed im ible for their 't-
tle handful of men to 9 any head '
such a vast host.

Not so Dom Gil and the duke, who advanced
with perfect coolness till within about a quarter
of a mile of the Arab host, when the gun cam-
els were brought into line and Dom Gil rode
forward alone, waving a white handkerchief on
a cane, as if to invite a. parley, while the cara-
van halted.

The Arabs on their side seemed to be ually
willing to talk peace, for they did not :ger to
fire, anda party came forward to meet Dom
Gil. At their head was Fyzoul Abdallah him-
self, mounted on Al Kader, and his tones were
full of eagerness as he asked:

f‘ Will the Lord of Jewels yield? I do not
Wish to kill my brother.”

“My master demands free passage for him-
sclfland his men to the sea, ” was Dom Gil’s only
re .

p‘ée has stolen my horses. Will he give
them up?” asked Fyzoul.

“ When they have carried him to the sea; not
before.”

“Will  give them 11 then?”

“_He Will, all but a one and two mares,
which he retains as an indemnity for the attack
on his camp.”

“ Then_he shall neveriiee the coast "cried F‘y-
soul, indignantly. “I will out out his heart
with my own hand.”

Dom Gil lau hed contemptuoust in the
Arab’s face. He ew that's high tone imposes
on barbarians

“Dog of an Arab,” he answered, “if I raise
my band now you die before you can reach
your own men. Do you not see my master’s
guns are trained on you i”

Fyzoul paled as he looked over at the eight
mitrailleurs grinning toward him. He had
seen them at work before. -

“ Now hearken to what my master will do ”
continued the Brazilian ofllcer, harshly. “ We
are about to advance in column through your
army. If they draw back and let us pass to
our shi wewill turn the horses loose on the
beach or you. If you conclude to d ht, each
man has an order to shoot his horse and and
make a breastwork of his body, after which we
shall mow your people down aswe did the other

t.”
mg‘ysoul’s eyes glared with malice and terror
combined. .
“If oukillmyhors-s. I will roast you all
alve,’ hissed.
Dom Gilthraw forwtrd his carbine with a



\

 

9

yourself. ” he answered. “ Go back to your
men. We will fight." \

But Fyzoul was not the man to fight a ready
foe. He preferred murdering an unwary one.
Moreover, he did not like the looks of Dom
Gil’s gun pointing at him.

“Why should we quarrel?” he asked, in his
old oily manner. “ Let the Lord of Jewels ad-
vance. My men shall not harm him if he gives
up the horses as he has promised.”

“ Then order them back,” answered the wary
Brazilian. “ If a man comes within pistol-shot.
our men kill all the houses and march through
on foot.”

The sweat rolled down Fyzoul’s face with
fear and per lexity, but he was obliged to
yield. Love or his horses, his most precious
possession, overpowered everything else and

1e reluctantly consented to the terms impos ed.

Ten minutes later the Arabs had left the pass
free and the whole of Diamantina’s caravan de-
filed safely through, each mounted man holding
a cocked pistol close to the head of his mount
while the Arabs watched the maneuver in
dumb dismay.

Before nig t they had reached the yacht in
safety. r

CHAPTER XIII. '

H. ll. 8. SNAPPEB.

Common Owns LAWTON, R. N., was pa-
cing the weather side of the quarteer of H.
M. Gunboat Snapper, four guns, as that re—
nowned and conspicuously neat vessel made her
way toward Aden where she was to coal fer
her homeward voyaa

The Snapper had 11 out two years cruising
off Zanzibar after slavers, and it was Com-
mander Lawton’s boast that he had done more
work than all the rest at together and had
practically put down slave-trade on the
east coast of Africa.

“ I’ve earned my furlough, by Jove!” he re-
marked to Lieutenant Sluman his executive
ofilcer about fifteen times a day “and b
Jove ve got a right to crow over t e others.

To whic Sloman invariably replied:

“I think so too, captain.”

Commander Lawton was known in the ser-
vice by two appellations. His superiors called
him “a promisin oflcerf’ his su ordinates, es
pecially these be ore the mast, voted him to be

‘ a Tartar.” His discipline was severe, his tem-

per domineering, and be was but little liked, ,

though his ability was respected.

As he walked the nutter-deck of the Snap-
per, his sharp, haughgy face, with its bushy red
side—whiskers and clean-shaven lips and chin,
looked forbidding enough to justify the awe
with which he was regarded by every one in
the vessel except Sloman.

His spy-glass lay on the poop-rail, for there
had been nothing in sight all the morning to
justify its use, and Commander Lawton was in
a brown study when he was startled by the mu-
sical cry of the look-out coming down in the
fore cross-trees:

“ Sail ho!”

“ Where, where?” he asked, sharply, snatch- I

ing Kris glass in a moment.

“ ee points of! the lee bow, sir. Looks like
a felucca goin to Aden.”

The 33min eveled the glass in the direction
indica , and behold three white lateen sails
shining in the sun some twelve miles away,
trimmed flat as if the felucca was gomg tocroas
his course.

“ Crack on all she’ll bear, Sloman, and tell
the en neer to get a steam, said the captain
tohis rst ofilcer, an the crew of the Snapper

to spreads number of staysails, while the
stokers down below raked out the ashes from
the banked-up fires under which the Sun
had been cruising, while the engineer’s gang
the screw down into its well once more.

The wind was steady and intense] hot from
the coast of Africa thus giving the nap r the
weathergage of t e feluoca, and the glish
boat soon began to glide through the water at 0.
hi h rate of speed. ,

or the next half-hour the captain and but
little, but at the end of that time the screw be-
gan to revolve while the smoke from the Snap-
per‘s funnel showed that the engineer had got
up steam at last. _

Soon afterward that officer touched his cap to

report:
‘ team up, sir, and onlycoal for an hour's
full head.”

“ Very , Mr. Grimes; put on all on can
and drive er ahead. We'll catch tha fellow
before you ve out.”

In fact e Snapper was running at some
eighteen knots an hour, what with the wind and
her steam, and every one thought they would
soon overhaul the felueca, which Lawton was
mgtmiégielfor :he vanity of showing the

o v as oran u terior urpose.

But. “W116 surprise of Commander? Lawton,
afteran hour had passed, and the revolutions
of the screw became few and feeble, the white
sails of the felucca seemed as distant as ever.
and they beam. convinced that the Sunnis:-
was at n.“ was. Arab My

 

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“ And yet, I never saw an Arab with such
white sails,” observed Lawton to Sloman.

“I should sa she was a Greek -xebec, goin
back through t e canal after takin a cargo o
WinetoBombay,” replied the flrsto cer. “I’ve
heard that Greek wines are coming into fashion
in India."

“Greek or Arab, she sails like the very
deuce,” retorted Lawton, impatiently. “If we
couldn’t lift her under steam she’ll drop us
now. Haul the screw out of water, sir.
doingno 00d now. Get up the square fore-
sail and c ap on the stu’n—sail booms. I‘ll run
under water but what I’ll overhaul that Greek
before we get to Suez. "

“Not if we stop at Aden, sir,” ventured Slo'
man. “The orders say—”

“Deuce take the orders. That fellow mliy ‘
t

:0 a, slaver for all I know. Clap on more sa
r

The Snapper heeled over under her pile of
canvas till the water washed in at the lee scup—
pers, and rushed on after the felucca, which
was now dead ahead and holding the same course
as the cruiser.

But all the sails of the Snapper were of no
avail to catch the light-heeled stranger which
on the contrary began to sink on the horizon
before their eydz just as the white and yellow
outlines of the Arabian coast began to rise in
the north-east.

The stranger shifted her course westward
and gave the cruiser an inside track for advan-
tage, but still the Snapper could do no more
than hold her own.

It was not till the urple rocks of Babel Man~
deb loomed up thatt ey began to make any per-
ceptible gain on the felucca, and then they no-
ticed it had shortened sail and was running into
the Red Sea as if distrusting shoals.

Commander Imwton, with the reckless de-
termination which had won him all the praise
he ever deserved, stood on till he found himself
within two miles of the other when the spy-
glass revealed her plainly.

“She’sa beauty, captain," declared Sloman,
in his sober way, as he inspected her narrowly.
“Lookelike a yacht, I should say, but I never
heard of a felucca-rigged yacht before.”

Here one of the mldshipmen who had been

hovering near looked so knowing that Lawton

“ Well, youn entleman, what is it?"

“ Please, sir, I ghink I know who she is."

“That Vessel?"

“Yes, sir. "

“ How do you know!"

“Please, sir, I’ve seen her before.”

“You; where?”

“Please, sir, ou remember I came throu h
the canal on he Teaser before I joined t e
gunboat. That felucca was lying at Suez then
with a big ship for tender. ”

“ A big gip for tender? What do you mean,

r

“ e’s a yacht, sir, belongs to the richest fel-
low in the whole world, so they told me at
 and he has the ship to carry extra cargo
of ai sorts.”

The captain looked at Sloman in a doubting
WI.

“Do on think he knows what he’s talking

I \' about, Ionian?”

. - “m.-. 

It’s i

.._...._

 

 

!

v
i

  

 

The Duke of Diamonds.

“Send a shot after that fellow and make him
heave-to,” he said to Sloman.

The old lieutenant stared.

“ A shot, sir .4”

“ I believe my English is plain, Mr. Sloman.
A shot, sir, from the seven-inch rifle first. If
that doesn't bring him to, try the nine-
inch." .

Mr. Sloman hesitated.

“ Not near him, I suppose, sir?"

“Certainly not. Hit him if you can and
cri ple him. I want to board the fellow.”

or the last time Sloman ventured a remon-
strance.

“ We shall catch it for this, sir, if that be a
yacht.”

“ I take the responsibility, sir. Do as I order
at once.”

Sloman touched his cap, ve the nec
orders and a few minutes ater the heavy re-
port of the seven-inch rifle boomed over the
sea, while a shrieking, puffing shell, making a
sound likea locomotive under full 8 (1 went
skippi over the waves and passelfeigig t be-
tween t e yacht’s masts.

The effect was immediate, and Commander
Lawton closed his stron white teeth in a grim
wolflsh sort of smileas t e felucca were short
round on her heel and came bowling back to-
ward the Snapper.

“ I thought we’d bring that fine gentleman to
his senses,
we’ll see what he’s made of.”

Sloman volunteered no remark, and looked as

l
l
l
l

l
I
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I
i
I
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l
y
1

he remarked, withachuckle. “Now 
‘ nized as a full-fledged member of his suite, and

solemn as if at a funeral till the yacht hove-to ‘
within a few cable-lengths, when a boat drop- ‘
ped from her side and a young man in a naval L
E young lady in the cabin, your grace, and com-

uniform, that they at once recognized as Ameri-
can, was pulled to the British man-of-war by a

crew of swarthy Malays as the Snapper threw ,

her sails to the mast.

Not a word ssed till he had climbed the
side by a rope 7
way, and then he inquired of the officer of the
deco who met him at the gangwav:

“ \Vhat ship is this, and who’s her captain, if
you lease?”

“ er Majesty’s gunboat Snapper, Captain
Lawton,” answered the officer, impressively.

The American’s face had been very stern and

will you make honorable amends to the Duke
of Dianiantinnf"

While he was speaking, Lawton’s face was a
study of conflicting emotions.
reluctance to give way, were finally succeeded
by a. forced smile, as he answered:

“ Of course I‘ll apologize. It was only a mis-
take.” I took you fora Greek slaver or smug—
g er. ‘

To this laniely self-evident lie Hart made no
answer except a silent bow: and he was turning
to go back when Captain Lawton forced himself
to $21 :

“ xcuse me, Mr. a—a—”

“ Hart, Captain Lawton.”

“ I beg pardon, Mr. Hart, but would vou be
so good as to tell his grace that I shall do my—
se] the honor of comin on board at once, to
apologize in rson for t e mistake?”

“I will tel him, sir.”

And Clarence went down the side and leaped
into his boat just as the boatswain of the Sna -
per piped the captain’s gig, reaching the yac t
and reporting to the duke as the English boat
touched the water.

As soon as he told Diamantina that the Eng-
lish captain had {Biologized the duke called out
in Portuguese to em Gil, who had been super-
intending some mysterious preparations in the

ws:
“ The dog begs. Draw her teeth!”
Then he turned to Hart, who was now recog-

asked.

“ And who is this valiant capitan, who fires at
harmless strangers?”

“ He is Captain Owen Lawton, brother to the
mantis the Snapper."
‘ Diamantina‘s eyes lighted up with an expres-

, sion that Hart could not fathom, as he said,

; slowly:

astily thrown from the gang- ‘

“M dear sir, it only needs the father, now,

1, to ma '0 all the family complete. And this is
g the honorable Son of the honorable Sir Lumley!

stifl’ before, but it softened immediately he -

heard the captain’s name as he asked:
“ Any relation to Sir Lumley Lawton?”
“ His son, I believe,” was the reply.

“Then be kind enough to say that Mr. Clar- 5

ence Hart, late of the
see him.”

“The captain’s on the quarter-deck, sir. You
can see him at once.”

And Clarence found himself on the quarter-
deck of the Snapper, confrontin a stern, sar-
castic-lookin man with keen bue eyes, red
whiskers, a 00k nose, and very white teeth,
who observed:

“Well, sir, your captain found it best to
heave-to. Her majesty s vessels are not to be
eluded b ever ' name
hoist a a .

S. navy, would like to

be are you, sir, and what is

‘ your boat t ere?”

l

. few months 0.

“ Yes, sir; Mr. Young has always been a re- '

officer. ”
“Then w o is this richest fellow in the whole

: world, Mr. Young l”

I was from the felucca and u

i

“I don’t know his name, sir, but the say
is a Brazilian and owns a whole at of
” mines. They called him the Diamond

“I’vebeard of him, now Mr. Young speaks, :

dr. He’s a great friend of the Kherlive and his ' qune
Yankees, but the as he hates the English, for ‘

reason or ot er. ’
“ Well, whoever he be, we’re likely to know

soon,”answered the commander,thought- ,

, “,for we’re coming up with him now,
ever hand.”
And in fact while the were talking they had

Wed their distance mm the felucca to less '

thanamile, when the Sun per yawed, fired a
mend showed the En lis flag.
As the smoke drif away to leeward the
of ananswering gun of all size
Went the red and
yellow of Portugal and razil at the end of
yachtsmain-yard.
till, however the vessel ke t on running,
only jib and mainsail up a ong| what they
d nowsee from the doc of t e Snapper
like a line of breakers.
AM; a little whilghshe was scan go glide
a , when t e nap r
“mp9 ed shorten sail at the
moment the feluocnamput u her foresail
. idru ng in one of the
reefs that infest the whole of the Red

'ned by the lead-
be t wn away,

film:

8
I
3

,5.
E

coral

Sea.
However, the advantage

ership of the yacht was not

, 4nd who the gunhoat passed through the same
. channel as the felucca they were still within

the domineering ways of Commander

In!“ cropped out,

'«qq- v5” _ 4,
I r. .

Hart reddened with anger and then turned
pale. This was Helen’s brother!

“ I was an officer of the United States navy a
sir," he answered, flrml .
“ The felucca is he yacht of his grace, the D e
of Diamantina, who demands an apolo for

our insult in firing a shotted gun over his head
lust now.”

“ Domhe, indeed 3" retorted Captain Lawton,
with a broad sneer. “ And do the ex-ofliwrs of
your navy act as messengers for scurvy Portu-
guese dukes?”

I-Iart took no notice of the insult, but went on,

vessel in one minute; for 10 has three torpedoes
aimed at her, now.”

Commander Lawton stared, and asked:

“ Are you mad? Is your friend a pirate?”

“ On the contrary he holds a regular commis-

 sion in the Brazilian navy, which empowers his

 

l

vessel toact as a ship-of-war, and he already
hashis tor edoes pointed at you. Do you re-
fuse to apo ogize’l”

“Wh , curse hisimpudencel” sputtered Law- ,

ton, w to with rage. “ l’ll blow him out of
the water in five minutes.”

“Pardon me captain, you’ll do no such
thing,” returned the American, coolly. ” First,
before you can beat to quarters, you will have
a hundred pounds of d namite blowing a hole in

our bottom. Second y, the duke hassaved the
ives of your own sister and your father’s, who
are both now on board the yacht and who
would both be killed if we came to b ows.”

Ca tain Lawton’s face altered.

“ t do you meant” he asked, in a man-
ner indicatin great excitement.

“I mean t t I wasapauenger on the 
name with the Misses Lawton: that the shgg
foundered two weeks ago: that we were pick
u of! a raft b a slave dhow; and that but for
t eDuke of D sntins, yourslsterwould *0
day be aslave in the harem of Sultan Fysoul
Abdallah NOW. Captain Lawton, do you feel
dismsed to persevere in a wanton insult against
the law of nations, and a friendly power, N"

“r usury.»   sAV‘w
. , . V, .

»

tly: ‘
“ If the apology is not iven, he will sink this F

l
l

l

' courtesy.

Aha! it is well.”

As he spoke, Commander Owen Lawton, R.
N., the picture of polittiless, sprung on deck
and bowed low before the duke. ’

 

CHAPTER XIV.
0N GUARD.

“I HAVE come, as I told your friend Mr.
Hart, to ex ress my sincere regrets for the mis-
take which ed me to fire at your vessel duke,"
began Commander Lawton, with meilifluous
“ I trust your grace will accept the
apology in the spirit in which it is oflered, for I
hear that to you I am indebted for the rescue
of a dearly loved sister from a fate worse than
death.” . ,

The duke smiled one of his languidly frigid

I smiles but did not ofl'er to take the other’s ex-

; tende
ess rover that chooses to '

 

hand.

“I was charmed to be of some little serviceto
a lady in distress, senhor. It is hardi worth
while to mention it, till I have restored he lady
to Sir Lumley Lawton himself." .

He remained standing, with a cold and dig-
nified demeanor that abashed even Owen Law-
ton, domineering tyrant by nature and educa-
tion as he was. It was With a nervous laugh
and half stammer that the British oflcer eon-
tinned:

“Well, you see. I your grace has
had enough trouble wi my family by this
time. Perhaps I’d better take charge of my sis~
ter m self, you know”.-

“ 9 way to the cabin is Open, senhor,” was

jthe frigid repiy; “but remember that the
:doubt of my honor which the removal will

imply is an offense to the individual which no

‘ apology can wipe out.”

!

 

glawton stgfedkat this dark, bipldsomgl man,
w ose reat ac eyes were usu yso co
and fognd them glowmg like coals as they fageyd
his own. Then all the londe blood in hisown
veins fired u to resent the Implied menace,
and his own erce blue eyes widened as he re-
torted:

“ As you please, sir. _I shall at least ask her
if she prefers to remain here or go with her
brother.” .

“ You will find the ladies. your aunt and our
sister in the cabin, senhor,” replied Diaman no.
as co dly as before. “Senhor Hart will shew
you the way.” .

Lawton bowed stiny and followed the Amer-
ican into the cabin, where the first pemn he
saw was his honorable and kittenish aunt, Who
exclaimed in great surprise: ,

“.Why, Owen, is that you? Where did you
spr‘lrfig frog?" an. t

mm 9 uarter-d the :- aun .
Where’s Heleii?” eck or ppe ’

The captain could see that his respected aunt
was not over oyed to see him for her greeting
was decid y cool. Owen wton was ten
years older than his sister Helen and his cg
Peprance by the side of aunt Lore] a was a t
raise doubts as to the youthfulness of the
orable and kittenish maiden.

The. sound of his Voice, however. bro 1;
Helen out of the state-room to whnhzhe a

0‘-

Pride, shame, ‘

,

 

 

._.__..___._ .4. _... “Am-h

, raw“. -

 

retired, and she flew to embrace her brother 1 replyof the duke. “Do the ladies wish toleave I “ Isn’t he the living
with real affection for Helen was fond of the . th

captain, who had always tted her.

“Why, Owen,” she sai , after the first greet-
ings were over, “was it our ship that fired at
us just now? I was frig tened to death. And
after the duke had been so kind and generous
to us 1,1,1]! Why, he’s taking us to Suez to meet
pa

left Calcutta .4” asked Owen.

“ So thev told us on the Himalaya, which we
spoke off Muscat.
of the Benares. and he set off at once to look for
inc—and oh. Owen! hare you heard what a ter-
rible time we had? saved from drowning by
Mr. Hart and from the Arabs by the duke.
You can thank them that you have any sister
at all, sir, for I never thought to see any of you

in.
gfiWell Helen,” said her brother. a little
awkwar 1y, “I’m sure I’m ver much obliged
in them and all that sort of thing, but I think
» you’d better shift yourself and aunt Lorelia on
board the Snapper at once. It’ll be more proper,
you know.”

Here aunt Lorelia burst out:

“ Indeed, we’ll do no such thin , sir. If
we’re not properly accommodate here, I
should like to know where you’ll find a nicer

)lace!”

“Yes, but I don’t kn0w this duke," persisted
the ca tain with true British obstinacy.

“I s ould think not, from the way you tried
to kill him and all of us,” retorted aunt Lorelia.
“Let me tell you that he isa gentleman who
moves in any society he pleases, and that if you
cannotsee the advantages of knowing him, your
father will not be so mad. Helen is in my
charge, and I don’t intend to move from here
till I meet Lumley at Suez.”

“And do you refuse to come, Helen?” asked
Captain Owen, sharply, of his sister.

‘ Don’t put it that way, Owen, please. Papa
ut me in aunt Lorelias char when we left
ndia, and we cannot leave 6 duke’s yacht

without a gross rudeness: can we, dear?”

“As you please,” returned Owen, constrain-
edly, for it went sorely against the grain with
him to eld any int, however unreasonable.
“ Then suppose ’d better take my leave and
follow you to Suez.”

“ Nay, Owen, don’t look offended, dear. Have
vou been introduced to Mr. Hart and the duke?
’Where are they, aunt?”

“ Hart, assoon as he had ushered the British
officer into the cabin, had returned on deck,
where he was talkin to Diamantina, as they
both watched the na per slowly drifting
astern. Neither refe in any way to the
presence of the obnoxious captain on board, but
confined themselves to remarks on guuboats,
rigs, and such like nautical subjects, in which
both took more or less interest~

It was while they were engaged in a rather
languid discussion on the respective merits of
lateen sails and those affected by American
schooners, that they heard Helen’s sweet voice
behind them, and turned tosee her, blushing di—
vinel , leading up her brother to the duke.

He en, (1 its of all the spoilin she had had,
was one of t oee amiable girls w o are always
making peace between others, and her fine tact
had already perceived that there was trouble of
some sort between Owen and her rescuers.

“ I have brought to your grace a gentleman
of the En lish nation,” she began, playqu ,

‘ who pro eases never to know any one till! 9
has been roperly introduced. Permit me then
to do the honors: Captain Owen Lawton, of Her
Britannic Majest ’s ship Snapper, His Grace the
Duke of Diamangna. s that right, Owen ?”

The cold reserve of Diamantinn relaxed into
a smile at her manner, for it is difficult  resist
a pretty girl, and Owen Lawton put on his most
engaging face as he said:

“ I am deli hted to meet his grace,  whom
my sister tel me I owe so much of kindness
shown to her and my aunt.” '

The duke’s only answer was a cool and Silent
how, his face retaining its inscrutable expres-
sth.

“ And this, Owen, is Mr. Hart,” pursued
Helen, turning to the American.

Both gentlemen bowed with great outward .

politeness, as naval officers of different nations
meeting at sea, and Owen observed affably:
“nge to see more of you, some day, Mr.

Then Dom Gill tall an
sing in his gaudy firazi
forward to be presented and remarked:

“Ze honor-a of see ze senhor capitan s‘all be.
unexpeck. I ’ope we capitan s’all ze goot health
en 'oy. Salut, senhOl'?v

wen Lawton rather curled his lip at the
other’s ungainly figure, but made shift to bow
andsa :

“Veg-v happy, I’m sure.” _

Then he turned to the duke, With another at,—

lar and unpreposses—

fem tatcordialfty, rather forced.

“ our grace has the heels. of me when my
coal runs out, I must confess,” he sand. “I sup:
pose you’ll get to Suez before I shall. ln fart.
l’V" 01‘de f0 ‘ll'np ill 9. Ilell {01' «Mill. .\ ("I I‘ll m“ "

" We shall lilo-ct “yell-“Winn l' ‘xl i:~ rm quid

 The Duke of Diamonds.

“ To meet my father? “'liy. has Sir Lumley ,

They had newa of the loss .

l

1 By some subtle and indefinable influence Dia~ '

i follow another’s lead.
.1 felt that some sort of a barrier, intan ble but

\

 

 

e acht'f”
“ hy no, in fact—ah—if your race is dis-
' to be troubled with them t' i you reach
uez—ah—I don’t like to impose on your cour-
tesy, ou know, but, ah—in fact—”
11 Owen Lawton, bold and reckless as he

' was, somehow broke down before this quiet, ‘

dark gentleman, whose voice was so soft.

“ I have not complained of the trouble,
senhor,” replied Diamautina, slowly.
take the ladees to Suez and thence to Cairo, where

guiries about his daughter.
.lairo, senhor’!"
“ Of course, if my sister be there when I get
to Suez,” hastily answered the other.
The duke fixed his dark eyes on the blue orbs
of the Englishman and spoke very slowly and
. distinctly: \
“ I shall expect to see you at Cairo, capitan,
, if you stop at all.”

Of course, of course,” replied Owen, a little 3

at a loss to understand.

“ I shall be at my house, and shall expect to
hear from on on your arrival,” continued the
duke, in t e same measured tones. “Saint,
senhor.” .

He lifted his cap with naval courtesy and
Owen Lawton went back to his vessel; then the
: two parted company almost immediately, one .
, heading for Aden and coal, the other for Suez :
and the canal. -

The breeze held stro from the desert all ?
l day, and within an hour the time Captain i

Lawton left the yacht, the Snapper was hull E
1 down on the horizon, while the felueca was ‘
1 gliding away to the north at sixteen knots an ‘
1 our, parting the short waves with her knife- f
I lilke pr0w in a soft hissing gurgle as she sped ;
. a ong. '
1 In another hour the British ship was a more I

k on the horizon and then she disappeared :

together, while the duke and his ests sat l
down to dinner under the awning of t e yacht’s {
. quarter-deck. '
| Clarence Hart felt much more happy and at 
i‘ case since the yacht had been at sea. In the i

first place his naval experience made him feel *
. more at home on the water, and second] he
g saw Helen constantly since he had accep the
. post of secretary to the duke.

 

l mantina had managed to keep him separated i
from Helen till he had formally announced his l
readiness to serve the duke, and immediately l
thereafter allowed him the fullest access to the l
lad ’3 presence. [

Clarence could not explain how it was ac- l
complished; but none the less he felt himself to i
be a mere powerless puppet in the duke’s hands, 3.
and was content, for the first time in his life, to 5

At the same time that he saw Helen daily, be

certain, had risen between them. e Hon.

Lorelia treated him with the same sort of

languid condescension that she racticed to-

ward her inferiors in general, an even Helen,

while she spoke to him as an ual, kept him at

gecfertain distance which be $3 never observed
ore.

The youn man saw and felt all this, and re—
sented it on is own rt by a studied coldnem
of demeanor. He to t that something or some
one was at work to prejudice Helen 
him, but could not get an opportunity see
her alone to ask an explanation.

The Hon. Lorelia was forever b her side
when not engaged with O’Sbea, am? the duke
was always ready to claim her attention when
Intelia went ofl guard. Hurt and oflended.
but unable to define the offense, Clarence took
refuge in the society of O’Shea, who had be-
ggkm to all appearance the favorite guest of the

e.

Clarence was rather
O’Shea’s behavior. t the time of the en-
counter between the yacht and the British gun- I
boat the Ca tam of Control had dim neared 2
the moment wtcn entered his boat. at till
the Snapper was hull down to the south did
O’Shea come on deck, and when Clarence asked

 

ed at one thing in

 

ian uniform, stalked ‘

‘ all this!"

him where he had been he replied in a confused
manner:

“I didn’t want to see that blackguard.

: Sure. I know his father too well, bad luck to

him 2"

“ Why, what’s the matter between you, if it‘s
a fair uestion?”

“Wilyek it stillifI tellyet"

“ Of clourse will.”

“Wel it goes .ack to twen years a , be-
fore Miss Helm there was bayrn, the arlin’!

of' black sheep. ”

“ Yes. And did his father offend you 5"

poor Rajah, resthis soul, gave it me. with his
last words, and that thief made me turn it in to
his head—clerk. And now she wears it and says
he gave it. her."

“ But. what. has Captain Lawton to do with

= was, the spalpeen!
1 him 0

“I shall -‘

I hear Sare Lomlee is now on a ed making in- ‘
on will stop at '

, zling

A h. she's the only white one in the whole flock !

 

-11

image of what his father
’11 never be ’asy till 1‘52:
pposite to me, with a pair of saw-ban

between the two of us. Didn’t he once strike

' me, the little villain, and I a soldier in the ranks

as couldn‘t strike back! Don’t let’s talk of it,
Hart. I‘ll Lethe death of that blackguard, yet.”

Clarence made no more remarks, for he saw
that the Irishman was thoroughly worked up
by his thoughts of old days, before ewes made
an officer and a gentleman by-the fiat of a sim—
ple {Jittle widow lady who signs herself “ Victov
ria .’

He had evidently l‘elt afraid to trust himself
on deck, in presence of Lawton, while restrain-
ed by the hospitality of Diamantina froman of-

: feusive act, and the American thought to 'm-
, self, with some wonder, that this Lawton family

had a good many hitter enemies, notwithstand-
ing their position in society.

For himself he felt that he hated Owen law-
ton sitively, aunt Lorelia negative] , Sir
Lum ey vaguely but expectantly; while for
Helen, he had a mixture of pique and wounded

- pride, forced admiration and involuntary ten-

demess, such as any other man would have in—
terpreted as being ~‘ over head and ears in love.”

CHAPTER XV.
THE PRINCESS MELAPn'rnos.
THE (.‘airo of 1877 is much changed from the
Cairo of Mehemet Ali of forty years

' shrieking locomotive now whirls the traveler in

from the flat and marshy country of the Nile
Delta, covered with a mazeof irrigatin canals,
to a fine station, surrounded with ens and
suburban villas, from whence b macadam-
ined streets, bordered with handsome houses and
shops, lead into the old city, behind its frown—
ing walls. The Ezbeldah and Iailiah where
the fa ' population of the city chiefly resort,
are han some modern rs. with gas and
water, paved streets an Ipublic gardens, all as
diflerent from the tumb e-down rottenan
the “ Arab quarter,” as can be conceived.
In the most fashionable part of the Ezbekiah
uartcr, looki out on the garden with which
t e Khedive a orned the ci yin 1867, standsa
large and handsome house. such as one sees on
the Boulevard Montmartre, in Paris, or Fifth
avenue, in New York. ,
enough to hold forty or fifty room or-
nater French in st le, surrounded with ens
of its own, jealou walled in from view, this
house was known hrougbout all Cairoin1877
as the “Palace of Jewels.” i
So the poetical Arabs called that which the
more music I'hropeans had dubbed “ The Mil-l

lion ones.” In both cases the title had refer-
ence to the sup wealth of the owner; forthis
house belong to the Duke of Diamantina, and

was occupied by him two or three months in
every year.

It was but seldom he came there in spring or
summer, for Cairo is chiefly a winter resort;
and when a long train of wagons was seen rum-
bling into the court-yard late in Ma , the gos-
sips of the uarter were all astir wit the new:
that the “ Diamond Duke had come back.”

The saw load after load of oomestibles, 
s of cooks and black slaves going in,th
a tall, angular man. in European clothes, bus-
tled about, giving orders in bad Arabzc. Ev-
ery one knew the figure and face of the duke’s
steward and manager, Dom Gil Grabador, and
allhtfihe shopkeepers bowed moat obeequiously
to m.

For several hours after Dom Gil’s arrival the
bustle was incessant: and then it subsided into
quiet and order. as a carriage drove u , from
which alighted the famous millionaire imself,
accompanied by two ladies and a young man in
white clothes.

The duke ascended the steps with the y r
of the two ladies, and the young man gave
arm to the elder. The gaping crowd of sight-
seeis watched them enter the cool hall of the
house, where the door closed on them andahut
them out from all further view. .

Inside the house Dom Gil was bowmg before

'. his chief, and the duke asked in his rapid Portu—
‘ gueee, unintelligible to the others;

“ Is she here yet?”

“The princess is in the salon, senhor,” re—
turned the major-domo with another bow.

Diamantina nodded and led.his companions
down the cool, dark hall to an immense saloon,
cooled in the same manner as the yacht’s cabin,
and furnished with a mixture of luxury and ’
simplicity truly Oriental. There they were met
b a of very remarkable beauty, whose '
rich robesaet off her face and figure with daz—
cffect. _

T en the duke dropped Helen’s hand from his
arm. and said. in his usual quiet manner: _

“ Mv mother. the Princess Melaretros, Miss

g 1 Helen'Lawtmi, daughter of Sir LumleY-”
. “He robbed me, the black-hearted villain. 1

Ah, ye know all about it, Hart. ‘Yc know that i
watch the ould mmd’s so proud of? Sure. the l‘

The beautiful lady gave a slight start at the
name, andhlooked earnestly at Helen for a mo-
ment ere s e re lied:

“ I am glad ffsee the young lady. Herfather
is here, too, and he has been inconsolable for his
supposed loss. And vou are safe. my dear?” _

As she spoke ghqua. scanning Helen With

3 gm?“ my],an amt; [Jul girl‘s e» es sunk under her
; on”. Th” result .4. 3)". ul\[N"llHll§th‘l:uC11tum

 

V’.';‘-’-" ;. a——~"-‘ ‘ ‘

~.:-.;x"n...

*‘ " k.
1",...” . \"’".:3.' ' .33. ‘. .

.‘V"_ ..

. hfi‘v- ..

W'w'r

. .. .fl Wm...» ..
. “i... ,. .

.. “V” . -m.

. grown-uszOn as his grace."

‘as became l
violently, and then stagger backward as Lorelia ;

1, so faint that they were obii ed to lay or down

12

favorable, for the princess took Helen’s face in '

her hands and kissed her kindly.

Then the duke seemed for the first time to re- ;
member the presence of the Hon. Lorelia, who

was waiting a little awkwardly, leaning on
Clar nce Hart’s arm, behind them.

“ ardon. madame. The Honorable Miss Law-
to'ili‘in sister of Sir Lumley.” he said rapidly. '

“ e rlncess, my mother.”

The on. Lorelia prided herself on her ease
in high society, and et she felt a trifle embar-
rassed before this ady, who must be as old
as herself, but looked at least twenty years
younger. -

The Princess Melapetros was of a very rare
order of beauty, a blonde with large black e es.
Her complexion was pale, but wonderfully air
and her figure was orfection in its rounde
curves, like those of t e Venus de Medici. Her

tawny gold hair was coiled up with jewels in a ;

picturesque Oriental head-dress, and she wore
the robes of a Greek lady of rank, rhaps the
most picturesque in the world. ere was a
soft and high bred languor about her whole
manner and appearance, as different from the
acquired insolence of the Anglo—Indian lady as
could be imagined.

She did not offer to salute Lorelia but bowml
{with perfect courtesy as she said to her, in Eng»
ish:

“ You have had a wonderful escape, Miss .

Lawton, my son’s steward tells me.”

“Oh. dear me, yes, your highness. We owe
everything to the dear duke, I’m sure. He has
been most kind to bring us all this way to meet
our poor dear Lumley. Has your highness ever
met my brother?”

The princess smiled sli htly.

“ I have seen him, but doubt if he will recog—
nize me. The ladies in Egy t go abroad vailed,
you know, and I follow t e customs of the

country.”

“A ver nonsensical custom, I must say,”
protested relia. “ I’m sure it must be very
unpleasant.”

Not when women grow as old as I am.
madame,” was the lacid answer. “ We find
it toadvantago not expose our faces to the
public view.‘

The Hon. Lorelia flushed deeply for the first
time in many years. Here was a beautiful wo-
man, who did not look over thirty, calmly call-
ing herself the mother of the man at whom the
honorable virgin had been “setting her- cap,”

; and Lorelia felt bitterly that if the princess was

an old woman, she herself must be still more,
ancient.

“ Oh, I’m sure no one would think that of you,
princess,” she simpered. “ You must havo been
married very young indeed to have such a

The du 0 led Helen to a seat without ying
any more attention to the Hon. virgin; iut the
princess seemed

as she answered:

“ Madame, I was a widow at sixteen.”

Then, without recurring further to the sub-
ject, she looked at her watch and remarked:

“ EIGVen o'clock. Have you sent to Sir Lum- I

ley, my son ?”

As we know, to see an one take out a watch
wasa sure bait for the on. Lorelia to exhibit
her own, and in this case the temptation was
great, for the watch of the, princess was a close
match for that of the ancient virgin in beauty
and costliness.

Before the duke could answer his mother,
Miss Lawton was crying out with kittenish ani-
mation!

“Oh, princess, how singular! I do think that
your watch is the very mate for mine! My bro
ther always told me there never was but our
such other made in Paris.”

Clarence Hart. who had been standing, re-
tired from the group at arespectfnl distance,
his position, saw the princess start

spoke.
Rapid and noiseless, with the skill of a trained

physician. he caught her in his arms as she was ;

about to fall, and spoke to the duke:
“ Madame is ill. your grace.
on the couch yonder.”

 

CHAPTER XVI.
sm LUMLEY LAWTON.

IN a moment the duke was by his mother’s
side, speaking rapidly to her in some tongue
unknown to the American but the lad became

on a couch, while Clarence tbed her temples
with ice-water, thinking strange things to him-
self all the time,

Presenth the ‘prlnce- revived and began to
sob and talk wil 1y to her son in the same un-
known language, while the two liah women,
much alarmed, could only stand y and pity
her.
“What sent her off so, Helen?” asked Lorelia,
in a whisper. “ I wonder if she has heart dis-

 

to find something painful in the I
allusion to her marriage, for she sighed deeply ;

Let me lay her ;

 

The Duke of Diamonds.

. -ac im—‘KALL‘IL .

“ Please be quiet. The lady needs rest. She
i is nervous.”

He felt the duke, who was beside him, press
' his arm as a signal for silence, and resently
the lady looked up at him and said in nglish:

“ Who is this my soul”

“ This is Dr. Bart, my friend and secretary,
who is hunting all over the world for his uncle,
Gilbert Carver,” was the rather singular reply
of Diamantlna.

The introduction seemed, however, to have a
marked effect on the princess; for, to Clarence’s
: intense amazement and confusion, she parter
i the hair on his forehead with both her soft
i white hands, as if he had been a boy, and gazed
l at him steadily with her dark magnetic eyes
1 for nearly a minute, ere she sai :

“He is worthy of his uncle. God bless them

; both, Diamantina!”

And she deliberately kissed the young man
on the forehead.

Clarence was so much confused that he turned
as red as fire, while the Hon. Lorelia gave Helen
‘ one silent but eloquent look, and then walked

owe to the window, where good taste had al-
rea y sent her niece.

W ile they werolooking out, up to the door
dashed a carriage, and out jumped a tall, stern-
l‘aced man, with clear, sharp features and

I long mutton-chop whiskers. Helen clapped her

h d‘.
a‘t‘leapa, page! Here he is!”
They saw ‘ir Lumley run up the steps and

pull the bell, and then the Duke of Diamantina

said, in a low voice to Hart:

‘ “ Take my mother away ; she is too ill to meet

I this man to-day.”

% But, to the surprise of all. the lady seemed to

1 recover her strength at the sharp sound of the

; bell and the tone of Sir Lumley’s voice in the

‘ int-sage, asking for his daughter.

She sat u and waved aside both her son and

, Clarence art, watching eagerly the doorway.

; Presently in came Sir Lumley, tall, heavy,

; sarcastic, gray, the image of his son Owen, and

, the model of what Owen will be if he reaches
fifty-five.

: Every line of his hard, hau hty face, with its

large, loose-lipped mouth, but the domineering

temper of its owner written plain] therein.

The precision of his attire. Anglo- ndian all

. over; the whiteness of his puggaree hat with its

v green linin -, the smoothness of his chin and

; lips, all to] of the desk-man, the bureaucrat.

1 Sir Lumley Lawton, yellow and dogmatic, was

; a favorable specimen of the Indian civil service

‘ oflicial, absolute wielder of almOst irresponsible
power over thousands of pea le.

, In the present case he 00 ed at his best un-

i der the softening influence of paternal love, for

l Sir Lumley was an affectionate father.

-‘ There were tears in his e es as Helen flew to

1 meet him. and he even em raced Lorelia with

considerable affection.

Meantime the Duke of Diamantlna, the Greek
g princess and Clarence Hart became, unawares,
spectators of this family meeting: and Clar-
ence, for one felt much interest in it.

As he had expected. he hated Sir Lumley
from the first view, partly from natural antag-
; onism to his cold. haughty face, partly from
j pm; jealousy of tho kisses Helen was lavishing
j on 'm.

[ But his eyes did not rest long on the family

, group. They Were attracted. instead. to the

l two spectators like himself. who were watching

' Sir Lumley from the darkened room.

l The Dukeof Diamantina gazed at the Eng-
lishman with a slight lifting of the upper lip, a
spreading of the wide nostril. a dilatation of the

, eye, that irresistibly reminded Hart of the up

, pearance of some carnivorous animal that

g scents prey for the first time aftera fast and

 

I slee .

i There was no ferocity there yet. but there
, was a revelation of depths of ferocity mm
P might come to light in a moment more, should
the scent come stronger.

: Then his eyes turned on the princess, and the
j beautiful and languid lady was transformed.
Her li were parted over her white teeth her
nos s tense with some secret emotion. and her
bosomroseand fell in those short quick gasps
that show how much a woman is wrought up,
while her black eyes fuirli’blazed at the uncon—
scious Sir Lumley, as he 'ssed his child again
and again

Something he could hardly tell what, made
Hartstir and go a little forward, so as to at-
tract the princess‘s attention. He thought she
must be ill, and laid his hand on her wrist with
the quiet authority of a physician.

As much to his surprise as when she had kiss-
ed him before. the lady clutched his hand and
wh' red to him:

“ is he, indeed I”

The whisper. soft as it was, attracted the
duke’s attention, and he started round to 
mother saying something in Greek thh
caused er to calm her face instant] .

The first meetin of parent am; child was
now over, and He en was just bettinmnf *0
think of the nce of her host, when the end

 

easel”

“ Perhaps it’s the heat.” suggested Helen, and
then Clarence Hart looked up, with all a doe» i
tor’s authority in his eye as he said, sternly; '

rollicking vo ce of O’Shea was heard in the hall,

‘_ w“ “.3. 1.....- .‘*'~-' ‘-'-':;:.c:;:t::. -_'-* ..—;: r.' '52 —-~‘-n-—. ---~

..1

1 " Faith, duke, and this Cairo in Ma ’s n' rh
as bad as Lucknow or Delhi,” cried t e '0 y
soldier, who had quite domesticated himse f in
the Diamantina household, with the “cheek ” of
a full-blooded Irishman. “I thought I’d 'ust
look ye up in your new uarters and —- H!
Is it 9 Holy Mother of Got. 1”

The stout officer had passed on into the dark—
ened room out of the lure on a, without n0-
ticing the Lawton ta leau, an was suddenly
confronted by the white face and gleaming eyes
of the Princess Melapetros, who came close to
him before he saw her.

The effect on O'Shca was astonishing. Stout
and jolly as he was, he turned a dead white.
staggered and nearly fell. Then, assing his
han over his brow, as if he felt gid y and con-

fused, he stammered:

“I beg pardon, ma’am, my lady—I thought
his ace was alone—I—"

“ his is Captain O’Shea, of the English army.
mother,” said the soft, low voice of the duke at
this juncture. “Captain, this is my mother,
Princess Melapetros. SI?“ Lumley Lawton is in
the room. Be compose/I,”

He ke the last words very low and ra idly,
and O’ hea nodded his comprehension an com-
pliance.

A moment later Sir Lumley was bowing,
with the most finished courtesy, before the duke
and the princess, whom he could hardly see in
the darkened room, and expressing his thanks
and gratitude for the incstimable service Dia-
mantina had rendered him.

“My dear sir,” rejoined the other with his
usual lazy grace, “it is nothing. I have long;
wished to see Sir Lumley Lawton outside of In
dia, and [am happy in the accident that has
brou ht it about.’

“ as your grace. then, never been in India?”
asked Sir Lumley, in some surprise.

“My dear sir, I have been in Goa; but you
must reflect that it is not pleasant for a Portu-

uese to look on the country which Albuquerque
first made known to civilization, and see anoth-
er 0ple in possession there.”

‘ Indeed!’ said Sir Lumley, with an uneasy
laugh; “' is it possible your people are so sens1-
tive as that?”

“ They are sensitive, senhor, and they never
for ct injuries till ufturerngeam e~—m peoole.”

“ liy, why, duke; I thought that Brazilians
were rather a quiet and commercnal set.”

“ My dear sir, I am not all Brazilian. My
mother, who is now a Greek by adoption. is of
another race. Permit me to present you to the
Princess Euphrosyne Melapetros, my mother.”

As the duke s oke, he made a silent signal
with his hand to cm Gil, who had softly 31 did
into the room, and instantly a flood of light
poured in at the rear windows. as the curtains
drew apart at a single pull of a hidden cord.

It was like a cunningly contrived coup de
theatre for more than one member of the com-

ny.

Sir Lumley Lawton saw before him the bean-
til’ul fitness, a calm smile on her lips. an"! IV“-
a vio ent start, turning as pale as if she ad
beena host, while the single word,.“£flie!”
escaped is lips. .

The princess, all her former emotion replaced
hygierfect cahnness, bowed and smiled, as She
sai -

“ I am glad to meet Rir Lumley Lawton, at
last. I have looked for that pleasure in vain
for some time.”

The mllor began to fade out of the English.
men’s aco, and it was witha faint attempt at
a smile, that he stammered out:

“Pardon me, princess; but on are so—so
like—a lad I once knew—that —I was start.
led--" and e sto pea. still staringlat her.

Then the duke terp0sed, With is usual qui—
et smile: .

“ These resemblances arevery singular, some.
times, senhor. Perhaps I also resemble some
one you knew." .

Sir Lumley turned and stared at him, and
his strong lower jaw fell in an expression of
fresh amazement and something very like fear.

Diamantina called to Clarence.

“Doctor, here is another patient for you,
This vile hot Weather! I fear Bare Lomlee is
not well." _
And indeed the Englishman looked as if he
had a stroke of paralysis.

CHAPTER XVI],
rim KHEDIVR CLUB.

Ammo the other modern institutions of m-
constmcbedE Pt none are more remarkable
than the club- oases. Alexandria rtaone of
them,’ under the name of the H ehemet Ali
Club, ’ founded by Prince Mehemet Tewfik. 801!
of the first Khedive Ismail Pasha; while Cairo
rekmces' in the still lar rand more flourishing
“ hedive Club," bum by the British Duke of
Sptherland, and patmmud by the fashion of
Cairo, native and imported.

The Khedive Club boasts the names of half
the aristocracy of Euro as honorary or visit.
m8“ members. find a l: 01 11851139, be)“, bank—
ers» merchants and other notables. as constant
members, The Duke of Diamantlna had be.

 

 

and the gallant captain stalked into the room»
resplendent in snowy linen.

longed it from its foundation, and his face
was as {fell known there as that of any dig-m. _

l

l...

i...

y*“'l‘hel?fle&a:n ’3
that». Wit
new are hos mm ilng

tary of Egypt, though he seldom made use of
the cuisine of the club, and only used it for a
morning lounging-place, where news circula-
ted

0n the morning after his arrival in Cairo,
Diamantina, tranquil and courteous as ever,
strolled into the saloon, smoking a cigarette,
and found a knot of Egyptian officers excitedly
discussing a su‘xject that seemed of great inter-
est, for his arrival did not interrupt the con-
versation.

Halim Pasha, a gray-bearded old Albanian
general, civilized by the contact of French man-
ners, was laying down the law to Houdin Bey,
:1 French renegade in the Khedive’s service.
All the officers spoke French, the Egyptian
court language at present.

“ I say that a man who forfeits his honor by
a sha r’s trick has no right to claim the cour-
tesies of this club, monsieur; and I shall make
my protest against it to the Executive Commit-
tee ’

“My dear friend, do not be rash. You must
remember that this Sine Lomlee is an English
jud of the Bureau Civile, and holds the name
unb emished.”

“ But just look at this,” exclaimed the pasha,
impatiently, and be struck his knuckles on a
folded newsp“-per lyin on his knee. “Here is
the Timm, the Englis gape-r of papers, that
charges him directly wit the dirty and mean
crime of a. petty theft.” I

“Pardon me, monsieur "’ here calmly inter—
posed Diamantina, who ad been puflln his
cigarette close by. “ I heard the name 0 Sir
Lomlee mentioned. Is it by chance the gentle-
man who is now here i” -

" Ah, my dear duke, you are welcome,” re-
plied thc old general, rising and cordial] shak-
ing hands. “Yes, it is this Lawtone, t 's stiff
Englishman, that we talk about! Hear this,
monsieur, in the ‘ Bord du Nil ’* extracted from
the English Timm.”

And the old officer began to read in French
from a local Carlene paper what purported to be

the translation of an extract from the London
Times, as follows:

“A curious suit has just been begun in the Court
of King‘s Bench, which recalls some of the darker
and less excusable features of the suppression of the
Indian Mutiny in 1357. Our older readers ma re-
member that the Rajah of the Inde ndent sta e of
Krishnapcor was accused by Mr. now Sir Lumley)
Lawton British Minister Resident at his court, of
having faken part in the mutiny by a secret expedi-
tion under the guise of a hunting party, which ended
in an attack on Sir James Outram’s provision con.
voys and the extermination of half of the 17th Foot,
guarding the convoy. The Rajah denied the cha ,
and offered to prove that he was a hundred es
away at the time of the attack, and that prisoners
afterwardtaken confessed that Tantia Topee was
the leader in that terrible massacre.

“As is wclllmown in Indi Sir Lumley (then Mr.
Lawton) obtam‘ed access to hnapoor b a mac-
terly stratagem. pretendi friendship, on only ar-
rosted the treacherous Hin 00 when the latter was
fairly in his power."

Here Diamantina broke in with a sort of him,
the nearest approach to a laugh in which he
was ever kn0wn to indulre.

“ They are droll, theschnglish; are they not,
pashai The Englishman uses a ‘ masterly
stratagem ’ while the _Hmdoo is ‘ treacherous’
before he is tried. Is It not droll?"

Houdin Bey shrugged his shoulders.

“What would you? The English have the
power just now: they and those amped Ger-
mans. Sacrrrrré 

The Prussophobia of the Frenchman over-
powered even his Anglophobla, and Halim
Pasha rinned as he looked over his spectacles.

“ Leg me read on. The rest is still more droll
for the English.”

He continued:

“The Rajah was suddenlv arrested in the. evening
by adetachxnent of Sikh Horse and an eflort was
made at the same time to seize t e Ramae. his wif
an Eurasiant ladv, with their only son, then a chi]
in arms. This a. tempt was frustrated by the des-
perate fl hting of a part of the Rajah’s Guard head-
ed b a aukce adventurer called Gilkarvah by the
Hin oos, who cut his way out of the city, carrying
03 the woman and infant. The Rajah was hurried-
ly tried by a court-martial, who found him guilty,

‘and the Resident produced an order from the Vice-
roy ordering his execution by blowing from a can-
no". the solita instance in which this form of
death was me out to a Hindoo of rank. The sen-
tence was carried into effect next day at noon in the
public square of Krishnnpoor.

“ So much is familial-to all students of that bloody
page in Indian history. but the strangest part of the
story is yet to come. Here twent years after the.
event comes into court a woman a rming herself to
be the widow of the dead Rajah of Krishnapoor and
claims that Sir Lumle 14an not only forged the
Viceroy"s order for or husband's execution. but

actual! took private Emulsion of all the jewels of

the Rain found on s body. especially a watch,
made y Bella'the Force of Purl which she

avers to have seen in the possession of r Lumle ‘I

sister, alleged to have been ordered and paid for y

su- Lumlcy. This lady sues underthe name of Ellie

Kalidasa, widow of Kalidasa. Rajah of Kw]-

and offers as witnesses the makers of the w “d

some lift prominent lndian officials who have seen

i in the Hon. Miss Lawton’s possession. This charge

proven will convict Sir Lumley of a very mean

 

WWII»
\

 

I

The Dukeof Diamonds.

l

form of embeulement of public pmpcrty, and if
pix-oven, will probably lead to his dismissal from her
ajesty‘s Civil Service. The charge of forgery of

rem-e, who was Governor-General at the time, has
been dead some years. “

When Halim Pasha had finished reading hc
leaked round him trium hantly.

“There' messieum; t at is the man that 5 Etlie Blackstone, the little Eurasian who had

Colonel Hamilton, the British consul-general,
introduces to the club and asks us to grant
privileges to. I say I shall u‘otcst to the ex-
ecutive committee unless t 0 name is with-
drawn.”

Hardly were the words out of his mouth when
the men of whom they were speaking entered
the room together, the consul-general speaking
to Sir Lumley as they advanced.

“ Ah, yes; deuced nice sort of place for such
a beastly country, on know. Pretty lair cook
—used to be in t e ‘Reform,’ you know—l
think you’ll like the club while you’re here.
Never any trouble about names, my dear fel-
low. Your name would carry you anywhere.
Hallo! Iggy! that’s all this!”

The con general stuck his glass in his eye
and stared at the bulletin board of the club,
where the names of members proposed were
pgually posted for the period before voting on

cm.
In front of the board were grouped the
Egyptian officers, headed by Halim Pasha, and
that venerable and testy oflicor was deliberate-
{yflptiilling down Sir Luuilcy’s name from the

r .
“Hallo, I say, pasha, you know, this is no
Elie“ you know," angrily txc‘aaimed Colonel
amilton, as he stepped forward.

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE ARTICLE.

_TKE old Albanian turned and gl0wered at

him with his fiery eyes as he held out the paper
inned to the obnoxious article in the Bard do
it, which had caused the trouble.

“ There,monsieur,” he said, shaking them an-
grily “ I ave torn no name, wt you may save
your honneur. Do you comprehend, SON? Look
at zat article, and say if zat is a name for dis
club?"

Then with a flourish he slapped his breast and
handed the papers to the amazed Englishman,
repeating:

“ I am riSponsnble, sure.”

And adozen Eg ptians, French and Italian
officers slapped t eir breasts together, and
cried:

“ Ve are risponsable, sare l”

The English consul-general was a large phleg-
matic blonds, who wore a gold eyeglass, and
had been a captain in the Guards before he took
to diplomacy. He was as c0ol as a. cucumber
under fire, and this began to look like fire.

“Pray don’t waste any unnecessary excite-
ment, gentlemen,” he remarked, in a tone of
aggravating patronage. “ You must be aware
that my ition prevents me from fighting in
Egth. hat’s t e row?”

hfiszlre; dis! Read ’em!”

And imPasha thrust the paper into his
hands, pointin to the article.

Meanwhiles Lumley Lawton, not quite com-
prehendmg what was the matter for he had
not seen the paper Halim Pasha had torn down,
yet felt the sort of uneasinessa man experiences
when he is made sgectator of a quarrel.

At first he was isposed to laugh at the volu-
ble excitement of the old pasha and his southern
friends, but then his eyes fell on the Duke of
Diamantina, who was sitting in a large cane
arm-chair, lazily watching the fracas through
the blue wreaths of his cigarette smoke.

The had not met since the previous day
when 11; Lumley had been taken so suddenlyill
at the Diamantina mansion that the duke ad
been 0in d to send him home in his own car—
riaieh S ce that time the once Resident of
K napoor had had time to compose his mind
and features to meet Diamantina, and lay out a
course of action for himself.

The cause of his illness was simple emu h,
and if the reader has not gathered it from ghe
foregoing pages, it is soon told.

From some occult cause, the oung Duke of
Diamantme seemed to Sir Lum ey to be noth—
inR but the “V111 tand identity of that
very Rajah of K upoor whom he had caused
to be destroyed twenty years before. Had not
Sir Lumley seen 'the mutilated cuts of
that unhappy; pnnoe with his own eyes, he
would have lieved that the Rajah had escaped
alive; but as it was, the duke seemed, to his re-
morse-haunted Vision, to be nothing but an
evil spirit that had taken the dead Kalidasa‘s

sha . '

Ilhebad made all sorts of inquiries about the
duke since he left the Diamantiua mansion, an:
had found his name well known and printed in
the Almanach de Gotha the indispensable of
European tuft-hunters. ~ '

There he was:-—“Vasco Va , Count of
Albuguerque, Marguis of Pomba , Duke of Dia-
man I created in 1869, by Dom Pedro, Em-
peror of razil, sales 28.”

Thor wasnopomi, bl, t toBlrLum . 3 d1
that than real!  A, I  {filter 

a

\

1
the death-warrant is more obscure, as Lord Luw- ;

that of a startling resemblance between this
man, born in Brazil, and the child of Kalidasa,
who would only be twenty-one if he were alive.
Sir Lumlcy resolved to make a friend of the

f duke and find who he was, for his own safety.

I sync Melapelros had been twenty

One thing was certain: it the Princess Euphro~
years youn-
ger, she might have passed to Sir Lumley for

cheated him at fifteen by marry ing Kalidasa.

“It must be that they are the same,” he mut
tered to himself now, as he looked at Dia man l
tins and thought of the yesterday’s meeting.
“But if they are they can do me no harm.
I‘ll cultivate this young duke a1 d find out.”

But while he was looking at the duke,_und
making up his mind, Colonel Hamilton was
glancing rapidly over the apcr; and 'ust as
Sir Lumley started toward iamantina e was
arrested by Hamilton’s voice, saying in a grave
tone:

“Look here, Lawton, here’s something you
ought to read. It’s a beastly]. lie of course
These confounded half-breed cnch editors al-
ways lie. But just read it, you know.”

Sir Lumley, with a vague feeling of nn~
easiness, took the ‘aper and began to glance
over the translate article, while Hamilton
with an appearance of unusual irritation for a
man of his glacial temperament, began to curse
the waiters for not bringing him the English
Times at once.

“ Where is it, you ? Ali, Mehemet, Human,
Francois, whatever is your infernal for'ei
name] I swear you confounded grinning Frenc —
Greek monkeys are not fit'to wait upon 9. en-
tleman, confound this beastly country! ive
it here, you infernal Egy tian idiot you 1”

He snatched the paper mm the waiter’s hand
(said waiter was a Maltese, by the by and os-
tentatiously. turned his back on the igyptian
officers, With an appearance of rudeness that
looked very much like premeditated insult.

The fact was that the Hon. Sidney Hamilton
felt at that moment stung to the very heart
with indignant shame for his countryman, and

’ longed, Briton-like, to aven re it on any one of

 

the grinning foreigners, jea one .of English su—
premacy, who filled the club.

He. did not believe that the article in the Bord
(In, Nil came out of the Times at all. He was
too familiar with the peculiar ways of Le-
vanlino journalism to doubt that this was some
sort of a blackmailing attack, but all the same
he remembered to havu heard hints in India of
foul play in “ that unfortunate Krishnapoor af-
fair‘ and the story about Lorelia’s watch had
born a common matter of mess-room scandal inl
Calcutta. It was characteristic of the utter
and contemptuous disregard of right and
wron'r in den ing with Hindoos that marks the
Britis population of India, thatall these stories
had never Cost the Lawtons any social or of-
ficial prestige. “ So many things had to be
winkei at in the mutiny, you know.”

Hamilton looked savagely through the Times,
scanning page after page with the e e of an ex-
pert, tillhe came to the end, when e triumph-
antly folded it flat with a slap, and cried:

“There, asha; I knew you couldn’t trust
those dirty glackmailing sheets they call papers
in Cairo, got up by a l of French sneak—
thieves and Yankee a venturers. That Bord
du Nil has made a lie out of whole cloth, and,
by Jove, I’ll complain to his highnem and have
the paper stop d. There’s no such article in
the Ti mes. It’s all a lie.” ‘

Sir Lumley, who was reading the French
journal with a face like gray marble and a
firm set of the lower jaw, ere force a smile
and tossed the iaper on the floor, sa in :

“By Jove, milton, I didn’t  these‘r
sooundrels had so much audacity. Where’s this
fellow’s office? I shall have to give him a
thrashing, I’m afraid.”

“Leave him to me. I’ll see if the Khedive
allows English gentlemen to be insulted like
this. By Jove, air, if he’s anything. short of an
En lishmnn, I’ll have him bastinadoed, or I’ll
sen for the ironclads at once.” - .

Thus blustered Hamilton, anxious to save the
credit of his country by rompt action, when
he was arrested by a na ~ voice which said:

“Don’t sweat yourself cunnel. _ The French
paper didn’t lie. Here’s the identical article in
the Times the day before that one you have.”

CHAPTER XIX.
A BRAZILIAN YANKEE_ .

Tn]: six-alter was a tall. thin, angular man,
with sharp, clean-shaven face, large bones, and
a general appearance of ungainly strength and
shrewdness, while the tones of his voice were
those of the old-fashioned down-East Yankee,‘
now nearly extinct. '

He was dressed in _shmy black like a clergy-
man, and had been Sitting quietly at a distant
table, reading the very pa 1- which he now held
out with a sum smile to lone) Hamilton.

Both the Englishmen stared at him insur-
prise and Hamilton haughtilv asked him: ’
“ Who are you. sir? I don’t think I have the

honor'of your acquaintance.” ‘

“ final," retur ed, he A coolly, “I
was one of the an era of this cub-bcbre
your tiny» Funnel, and if you Want to see 

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14

name you kin compare this card and the mem—
bers’ roll-book at our leisure.” '

He handed the aglishman a small card on
which was written

“DOM GIL GRABADOR,
Commandantc Navio Brnsiliano."

Hamilton stared at him amazcdly. Ho had
often seen the tall form and black heard of Dom
Gil, but that individual spoke cxecrable Eng-
lish while this man’s face was clean-shavmi,
his grammar pure, and only his pronunciation
nasal.

“But you are not a Brazilian," he at l(-ngth
ejaculated.

“Why not, cunnel? My commission is every
whit as straight as yours, and ‘Pedro li.’ mach
jist as prettty a signature as ‘ Victoi in R., to my
notions. I I choose to turn my Boston name
into Portuguese, I’ve just as good a right as all
ihe French Huguenots that went into England
with William of Orange to make themselvos
English. Haven’t I?”

“I don’t di ute the right, sir,” was the cold
reply of Hami ton. “ Yournamcnmy Lo Smith
or Brown for all I care.”

“But it’s neither, as it happens, cunnel, and
TI] trouble on to remember it,” retortcd the
Yankee, a aint flush tin ing his clieekbones.
"Here’s the Times, with tile article, quoted in
the Bord du Nil, and I guess the thdivo won't
have to bastinado one editor-this morning. l‘Ve
been an editor myself, cunnel, in a place where
i had to write with a revolver in each boot and
a bowie down the back of mv inch: and I
never took water yet on a statement of fact;
and what’s more, if this French editor's of my
mind, he won’t do it either—not this time."

Hamilton had taken the paper from his hands
as he began this little speech and did not at-
tempt to stop his volubility, for his eves lmd al-
rea y caught the head-lines which told hnn the
American s ke truly. ‘

As for Sir Lumley Lawton, now that there
was an open attack on him, he assumed the ap-
es of iron calm which distinguished him

times, and folded his arms to await
Hamil n’s report.

It was noticeable that, now the cold Northern
races had met in o n collision, the excitable
and swarthy Egyptians and French had drawn
themselves out of the quarrel, and Were looking
on listenin with hushed interest. Even testv
old Halim asha had been silenced by llamil-
fon’s first furious denunciation of the Bord (lu
N61 and his threat to a peal to the Khedivc.

The only quiet an unconcerned spectator
seemed to be the Duke of Diamantinn, who sat
in his cane arm-chair, blowing rings of cigarette
smoke and watching the scene with a keenan
that nothing escaped.

Meantime Colonel Hamilton read the English
article from end to end, with a countenance in
which keen mortiflcation struggled with the
British sense of justice. A Frenchman would
have refused to look at anything, an ltalinn
would have torn up the paper; but the Times
was the sacred representative of British re-
apectabili to Hamilton, and he could not

oubt but but the Times had printed the article.

When he had finished, he turned to Sir Lum-
ley and observed in a dissatisfied tone:

“You’ll have to look to this, Lawton. It's
evident somebody’s put up this woman to per-
sonate the Rance and b ack-mail you. I‘m

sorry cu couldn’t have got home sooner to nip «

it in t e bud.”

Sir Lumley took the paper and looked at it
himpelf with unmoved face till he had mastered
its sense, when he said coolly:

“ This will shorten my stay here. I have
only to go home to crush all t is rascally con-
s )' . I see this club is a terribly mixed af-
fair, 0 (1 follow. I suppose your 'tion com-
pels you to belong to it: but, by ove, 1 could-
n’t afford to come here every day to meet a lot
of cads. Ah, duke, is that you! Charmed to
see you, I’m sure. You must dine with us be-
fore we leave Cairo. Can’t give you such
luxuriesas you have, you know, but a heartv
En lish welcome we can promise for yourself
an your friends.”

So saying, he bowed low to the duke, stuck
on his hat ostentatioust before the Egy tian
office lighted a en ar sneering open v at
them 1, and then we ke quietly to the door,
twirlin his cane as he went and whistling.

Ham ton followed his exam 19 to the letter.
The colonel was too much u to the swagger
and blaster required in dealing with Orientals
to be at all backward in bull 'ing the Egyp.
tians, and there was no one e se to bully. for
Dom Gil, the Yankee Brazilian had quietly
withdrawn ? the gable. at which he has been
takln is co so an to ther an seem
od tolie once more labial-fired iilethe news.

, Thus the Enfidshmen might have been said to
come of! with ving colors out of the club, and
so the Duke of Iiiamautlna quietly remarked to
Halim Pasha: . ’

“Those English are devlls. but they are no
cowards "the stout Albanian veteran admitn-d.

“ I could almost hrve laughed at the bold 1,0,1... ’

ing of that Sare Lomlco; but, think Hmven.
the club is rid of him, "
" Here comes another of the ram” olmcrved

l

The Duke of Diamonds.

l
g 1)iamantina,as Captain O’Shea, rubicund and
jelly as ever, entered the. club-room.

l But the captain appeared to be an old habilué
l of the club, as indeed he was, owing to his fre-
. quent journeys to and fro from India, for the
1' purchase of Government stores. He shook
, hands with Halim Pasha, talked vile Irish-

and seemed to be hail~fellow-well-met with all.

" Ha, duke,” he broke out, the moment he saw
Diamantinu, “ I just met that murderin’ old vil-
lain, Lawton.
gave him: had luck to him! Hc’s got a face on
him like as if he was goin’ to a funeral and had-
n’t been asked to the wake. By the
does my heart good to see him.
vinegar-y old maid ’11 maybe have to give up
that \Vlllrll she stole, bad luck to her.”

liimnantina blow a long,r curl of smoke ere he
replied.

“ Do not be too sure, my dear sir.

i

l
l
l

l
1

French or worse Arabic to the other officers, E

hid ye see the blast the Times I

wers, it ‘
0w that .

respondent, to keep the wolf from the door.
What’s it for. old boy .1”

" Call it ‘political services,’ and pass it to
our account,” was the evasive reply, as Dom
‘il paged over the check he had mentioned to

the other.

Frankly looked at in amazement and joy.

“ Two hundr iras! Smith and Brown, bank-
ers! Why, what s this for f”

“ For an article in your last paper about In-
dia. Smith and Brown are interested in a little
claim on the British Government. and your
article hit the nail on the head. Keep it up,
Frankly, and l’ll bring you such another next
week.”

Frankly looked hesitatingly at the check and
asked:

"What article do you mean! That Lawton
business! I only copied the t.”

“Exactly. ut for all that, Colonel Hamil-

Sir Lum- ; ton and Lawton himself were nearly coming

ley is rich yet and the English courts are not ; down to interview you with a big stick about it. ”

‘ kind to those poor devils of -Iindoos.”

U Ah, ye don’t know English ways, your
grace. The poor Rance may never get an sat-
isfaction out of the villain, but yc’ll see t ey’ll
send him to Coventry in England for this.”

“as on say, I do not know the ways of t e

.
l
l

3 Gibby,” he remarked.

: English. What is this Covontry you mention?” ,

“Coventry! Well, your ace. it’s a very
disagreeable place tovisit.
there, no one will speak to him, and he might
as Well be (lead as alive.”

“This must be a charming residence, this

l
|
l
l
i “ My dear sir,”respon<lcd l)ian1antina,lazil ,
|
l
l
l
l

pull’. “ 1 am obliged to you for the informa-
tion, capitan.
morning, sir?”

“ Once; and he seemed to be full of business:
for he was running round in the sun hunting up
some one."

“ Thank you, sir.”

The duke threw away the last remains of his
cigarette and walked to the window, priming by
liom Gil. who was still absorbed by the news.
As he passed he dropped a few words in a low
voice to the other, who paid no apparent atten-
tion to them, and then strolled into the billiard-
rooni, leaving O’Shea. talking to the EV ptians.

Presently Dom Gil got up. placed a ta 1 stove-
pipe hat on his head d walked out past

dcr, but no sign of recognition.

The Yankee’s face was so changed by the
clerical attire and tall hat from the physiogno—
my of Dom Gil that O’Shea was quite excusable
for asking Halim Pasha:

“ Who’s that, gineral‘ll Bedad he looks like
Death come out of the grave for a holiday.”

But Halim Pasha professed his own igno-
rance. He had not seen the card given to
Hamilton, who had (put it in his pocket, and,
like all the rest, ha failed to recognize Dom
Gil: so that the attempt ended ini le conjec-
turc.

Then, when some one proposed to ask Diar
iuantina, the ' discovered that the duke had left
the club, an had been seen drivingPaway on
the new road across the bridge to the mids
ol‘ Ghizch, the regular drive for fas 'onable
visitors.

 

CHAPTER XX.
as EGYPTIAN anrron.

IN the meantime Dom Gil Grabador, after
leaving his club, continued his way, with a
tranquillity undisturbed b his unsuitable at-
tire (the thermometer s at 98° in the shade)
to the business uartcr of the Ezbekiah, where
he entered a bui ding full of offices and tagged
at the door of a little back room. which re
the legend, “ Bord d'u Nil—Bureau d’E'diteur,”
which in English is simply, “Tun NIL! BANK
—-Eniroa’s OFFICE.”

“ Eutrcz I” said a voice, and Dom Gil found
himself in the sanctum of the editor of that in-
fluential journal which had caused such a com-
motion in the thdive Club.

The editor was a pale, keen-looking, middle-
aged man, with a gray mustache and a general
air of overwork, incident to perfornnng the
duties of prmf—readcr. leader-writer, advertis-
ing agent, reporter and book-keeper in one, in
the city of Cairo in May—with the arduous of~
lice 0f bill-collector thrown in. He had told
Dom Gil to enter in French, but it was in un-
mistakablc New York slan that be greeted
him when the other was fair y inside.

“ \Vell, old felloW, what‘s the racket now?
Spit her out quick, for 1'") in a devil of a hurry
to catch the mail.” And he scribbled away.

Dom Gil allowed his grim features to mlax
into a smile as he said:

“ i. .et the mail wait. I've got a check to your
order, Frankly.”

Ucol‘y‘o- W . Frankly, editor in chief of the
Bord du .VL'I, threw down his pen and positively
laughed as he turned to Dom Gil, though the
tears Were in his eyes as he did so.

 

for months.
I what lt‘scraclml up ro be, old fellow.

an
U’Sheu: who stared in his face with some won- '

“ lVell, by Jove, that,“ a thing 1‘v'e not span .‘
Running a paper in Cairo ain’t E
l was ‘

hen a man gets 5

Covontry,“ observed the duke, with another .

Have you seen Seahor Hart this 3

 

.

r

l

Frankly laughed. He was a thin, wiry man
with a firm chin, and ears set very close to his
head, one of the type that prize-lighters call
“ ame to the backbone.”

‘They might run on a snag if they tried that,
“ Do you remember the
time we used to do the local business down in
Galveston. before the war!  Texans ma kc
an Englishman seem like a whale in shoal
water, beside them. But go on. What am 1
to do?"

"Keep this up: that’s all. There will be a
heavy pressure on on to disavow any agree-
ment with that artic ein your next issue. When
do you come out i”

“ Tomorrow.”

“Exactly. Well, we want you to indorsc
the article in an editorial, and bind off the Eng-
lishman if he comes. If you do this, you’ll get
another check next week.”

Frankly hesitated again.

“ Perhaps you don’t know what you’re ask-
in . As ion as I copy the Times and keep a
st'l mouth, ’m permitted to starve in decent
quiet, but if I express an editorial opinion. I
lay myself liable to a visit from the police and
seizure of the edition.”

“ As far as that goes, my people will see that
the Khedive does not interfere with you. The
edition will sell like wild-fire, and if you want
the leader and the facts, here are both of them.”

And Dom Gil pulled out a little roll of paper
and handed it to the other, who ran over’it With
the racticed 9 col an exchan e editor.

hen he finished he shoo his head.
“Won’t do, Gil. I’d like to obli you. but
that’s too strOng. Why, they could ve me up

for libel in any court in the world.”

“Well, suppose they do and you have a
hacker to
How much will on take to fight it out?”

Frankly consi ered a moment.

“The risk’s worth at least twent thousand
dollars, and I should have to leave 6 country
in the end. You don’t know how strong the

lish are here.”

‘ hen here is something will satisfy Y0“ 0“
all ints,” said Dom Gil, uietly. “ mem-
ber t’s in confidence and only to 800m 3' 011 111
case you have any doubts.” . ,

He handed Frankly a letter which the other
read slowly, two or three times, before he said
a word in answer. _ _

Then he turned on Dom Gil a face in which a
great deal of emotion wu_manifest and replied
to the other’s look of inqmry:
thss, Gibby, I’ll do it. I never dreamed of
t )

“And yet you might have known, if you
hadn’t been a regular old duffer, George,’ re-
torted Dom Gil, with forced joculari

ty, tw0
suspicious dro ding in the corner of his

eyes. “I won dn’t _ut you in a hole for all the
money in Asia. 111 you pitch into Lawton
now

?’
“ the great horn spoon which Nebuchad
newlywed for his mush and milk, I’ll scarify
that old villain so that he’ll leave Egypt. You
seeif I don’t.”

And the Editor (if {he figs-dhdu Nil tucked the
check into 18 9 39 is pen, and l -
ed into his worm Dom Gil left the office? nus

CHAPTER XXI.
maosmcr AND PROSPECT.

Tun little trouble at the Kbedive Club did
not affect Sir Lumley Lawton to any great out-
ward extent. He had been in a measure Pr?-
pared for it bv the unexpected meeting With
the Princess .Euphrosyne MelapetI‘OS, and he
had no doubt in his own mind that she and the
lost Rance of Krishnapoor were one and the

 

.: same person. The very name, “Melapetros,”

Just sending a line home to the old Spy, to ask 5

for the In with ll) of Egyptian and Levantim- cor-

WOH n were Greek translation for the maiden
name under which she had passed in India; for
1‘3 meal": “ Black Stone. " (or Rock .

H0W well he remembered Effie Blackstone in
those old days before the mutiny! She was one
of those unfortunate beings in ladian socict ,‘
Occupying almost the same smon once he
by our on n (mun-(mus, thong not accom aaied
by the legal taint: of slavery and buster v,

Her father. Ensign Blackstone of the Forty.
second 1“ of. (of the tumour. “ Black Watch ‘1' '0‘

pay the costs an see you thro ..

t.wm-

FOIIM‘IIO} ), had, while yeta raw“ Grifl ” (green—
horn), fallen madly in love with a native girl.
Worse than that, e had actually married her
under the sanction of a Wesleyan missionary
who had educated poor Luchmee from the time
she was thrown as an infant into the Gan es
for the crocodiles, whence be rescued her, to t e
(19. she became, to her simple wonder and de-
lig t, a real “Sahib’s lady. ’

Poor Luchmeel hers was a histo
with outside of India. Who were er arents,
was problematical. All the missionary new of
her was that he saw her floatin by in a basket
one mornin , like Moses in t 8 old pictures,
with the ad ition of a dozen crocodiles coming
after her, scenting prey. At the risk of his life
the worthy man had fished her out just in time
to cheat the crocodiles took _her home to his
wife, and both accepted the little brown maid
as a gift from Heaven; one bond fide convertto
Christianity. _ ,

That Luchmee, beautiful like all her beauti-
ful race, talking  well, and having all
the educationo a w ite girl in the same sta-
tion should be a. bew1tching creature even to
English ofliccrs, isnot surprisin ; and the L0-
tharios of at least a dozen mare ing regiments
and two crack cavalry 00323 had laid siege to
her whenever 'rrison u‘? called them to
Modbad, where issionary ilson labored. .

But inasmuch astheir intentions were in no
case honorable, and Mrs. Wilson was a ve
dragon of watchfulness, no one succeeded, t
young Malcolm Blackstone, with the scent of
the heather still in his hair, came, like u green,
honest countr lad as he was, married Luchmee
after a three sys’ courtship and realized, with-
in three days more, that he had made a terrible
and fatal mistake.

Not aladyin the garrison would visit his new
wife; and most of t em refused even to reco -
nizehimself. His comm.ch were cool and d sp
tant, and made his position so uncomfortable
that he was glad to resign and go into civil em-
)loyment at Allahabad, where Ellie was born,

oor Luchmee did not know howshe was ostra-
vised, for the simple reason that she never had
mingled with any Europeans except her foster—
parcnts, and therefore did not miss their so-
ciety; but her husband, who had all the sensi-
tiveness ofa poor and proud man, was cut to
the heart at findin h iuself relegated to the
companionship of indoos, among whom he
was disliked and suspected. He loved his beau-
tiful child-wife (Luchmee wasa woman at four-
teen and wed at fifteen), and always treated her
with tendernessr but when she died, after a
your of married life, leaving baby Ellie behind
her, it is questionable whether her husband did
not feel a certain genes of relief.

His ition in English society was now mp3.
ble 0 betterment, and he soon found himself
rising in the civil semce, owing to the know-
ledgeof natives ,and their languag obtained

marriage

rarely met

 

by him from the circumstances of _
Ellie, therefore. grew up in a nomadic sort of
way, ow' to the frequent and re id transfers
of her father from post to post al over India.
till by the time she was a full- grown woman of
fourteen (in India ual to eighteen or twenty
in Europe) she coul talk a dozen languages flu-
entlv, read a little English, play a little on the
guitar, sing and dance divmely: though the
multiplication table was a m stery to her. .

Then it was that Lumley wton, a married
man himself, set his cold. cruel eyes on her and
coveted her. He saw her seeial position anom-
alous, like that of her mother. no white lady
recognizin . I
quostionab e respect, tinged With a licentious
devotion that only failed to hurt her on account l
of her utter innocence of all guile. Her father, i
immersed in business, bent only on makin '
money with which to leave India, saw little 0
his child and left her exposed to all sorts of dan-
gers, unsus ,ting their nature: . _

Lumley wton was then a an] semce man.
ostensibl occu ying the past of secretary to
the Raja of rishnapoor, reall a paid spy ‘
on that gallant oun prince. wo years
fore the oath of t e mutiny he was offered
by the British Government the post of Resident
minister at the court which the Rays!) eagerly
urged him to acce on the ground that be pre-
ferred an old frl to a new face, and almost
at Ithe some time the Rajah wooed and won
Eflie Blackstone, for whose sweet sake be con-
sean to 81’1"" polygamy and be married in
Christian fashion by same devoted Metho—
dist missionary who had been the only grand-
father Ema ever knew.

Well did Sir Lumley call all this to mind as
he satin the smoking-room at SheEherd’s Hotel,

 

looki out into the glare of the am sun.
light, hrough the crevices of the inds and
thinking over the past. Well did he remember
theda , ust after the massacre of Cawnpoor,
when e tried toinduoe Einsto leave her
husband and flee to Calcutta, promising to .9.
cure her the Rajah’s treasures and a brilliant
life in England as his own wife. was a,
widower b this time,hisonly daughter, Helen

9. baby in ngland, humOwen, at Eton; and
It could have kept his word

her, while the men paid her a. i you

 

toldher Ltbb' .‘l thican
with manhole...“  wmlnhn esy t...

T

trump up a charge against him in the excited
state of English feeling, and moreover that

9 Duke. bf Dismiss:

Kalidasa was away on a pretended hunting ex- :
T didn’t know you by sight. I’m not toblame.

The rebuff that was given him by the Rance a
stung him even now, twenty years after the g

pedition at that very time.

date, as he sat brooding ovor it in Cairo.

She told him that a. single hair of Kalidasa’s ‘

head was dearerto her than all he could offer

her, that she had hated him from the first mo- -

ment she saw him, and that if he did not leave
the palace that moment she would summon the

ards and have his head taken 06, if it cost
gr life and kingdom.

“But I paid him up for it.” muttered Sir ?

Lumley, to himself : “ and as for the death-war-
rant,

Lawrence winked at the irregulari- {

ties and the statute of limitations bars the rest. =

I’ve nothin to fear. ”

Even whi e be sggke he heard the loud, rol- 

licking tones of 0’
toward the room and talking to some one.

__——_

CHAPTER XXII.
FATHER AND sox.

ea in the passage, coming ‘,

“DOM GIL? Divil a one o’ me’s seen him. 1

What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing; only I want to meet him very
much, O’Shea,
and into the room came O’Shea and a young
man in the semi-Oriental dress affected by Euro-
peans in Egypt.

They glanced over at Sir Lumley, who was
dimly visible in the darkened room, and the
young man lowered his voice.

. 1 

asked fiercely, of the operator, anxious to vent
his icon on some one. .
“ t was marked ‘to be called for,’ 811'. I

It’s been lying here two days or more.”

Sir Lumley growled out something very like
a profane malediction and went rapid] out of
the hotel, taking the direction of the edive
Club, quite regardless of the heat.

Some hundreds of donkey boys, seeing an
En lishman, marked him for their lawful prey
an came down like a swarm of locusts, shout-
mg:

“ Donkey, howadji! Be goodl Run like
deer! Backshish, howad 'irl’x’y

They supplemented their broken English with
a long string of Arabic curses and Jeers, on the
(generally safe idea that the howad i would un-

erstand the English and take the Arabic for
compliments.

But Sir Lumley was in no mood to stand their
noise, and he lair about him so fiercely with his
stick, with a shower of Arabic epithetsas bad

'as their own, that the whole tribe fled in dis-

may, calling to one another that this was a
devil, not a quiet howadji. Heunderstood them.

Then the Englishman pursued his way in
peace. and the first person e met descending

‘ the steps of the club was the Duke of Diamanr

replied the voice of a stranger, :

tina.

Never so strongly as at that moment did the
fatal likeness to the dead Rajah strike Sir Lum-
ley as he looked at the duke, courteous and

' smiling, the brilliant beauty of his darling;

line features set off by the broad shadow 0’1

; turbaned hat, his white costume of faultless

“Do you remember what I told you about ‘

my uncle O‘Shea?”

“ Yes, ilkarvah, ye moan?“

“ The same. Dom Oil’s the man."

“ D'ye mean it now 2"

“ l’m sure of it.
tionary and find that Urabarlor is mere} y .a
translation of Carver.”

“ W hislitl” answered O’Shea, suddenle nudg-

ing him and jerking his thumb toward Sir ‘

Lumley.
this way.”

And they left the room before the English
baronet could catch any more, and went down
the sage conversing low and earnestly.

“ here’s that cursed Irishman,” muttered
Lawton to himself. “I was a fool to buy his
silence with a commission, when a dangerous
errand among the mutiiieers might have rid
me of his tongue and himself. If he and the
Rance put their heads together they may make
that watch affair look ugly for me. I wish Owen
was here.”

Sir Lumley began to realize that he was past
his rims, and toleau for help in emergencies
on is son's stern will and more active frame.
He felt lonely on this hot day in Cairo. the more
so that Helen and Lorelia were sleeping:r away
the noontiine up-stairs, and the hotel was de-
serted save b a few pe iring waiters.

He rose an went oveli'qtfo the telegraph office,
where the operator was dozing in his chair.

“ Anything for me?”

“ You i let me see, sir—what name?“

“Sir Lumley Lawton.”

Positively he felt reluctant to say it aloud in
Cairo, since that article in the Bord (In Nil.

The operator looked up at him in a startled,
interested way, as if he too had heard the name,
and answered : '

“ X05, sir. Here's atelegram from Aan for

“ Don’t yo see who’s yonder! Come

Sir Lumle tore open the envelope and read
with eager elight:

“Gosling finished. Shall bein Cairo on the L’i’th.
Meet you at the club. Owen."

Thenhls face fell, and he be an to gnaw his
under hp. Owen was to meet im at the club:
that very club Which had refused to ive him
the usual courtesies that morning. - file must
manage to intercept him before he got there.

“ Vi but time does the train from Suez get in
here?” he asked the clerk at‘ the desk of the
gavel, as that worthy individual dozcd in the

es .

The clerk woke up confusedl .

“Train to Suez? Yes, sir. ix r. M.”

“No, no, from Suez here I mean,” said Sir
Lumley, impatiently.

“Oh, yes sir. Begpardon, sir. Two trains.
One leaves Suez at day ' ht, ets here 10:55 A.
M. flogher'gythe Blight tra n— 0:401}: M. Carries
ma r. ery ew n rs. . and O. ,
ple all come in moms.” M

“Thank ou.”

Sir Lum ey turned away to look at his tele-

m.
gr: Shall be in Cairo on the 27th. That’s—what
day of the month is this?”

To the clerk this, in his usual quick, snappish
we '.

“3 The twenty seventh, sir, Monday,"

H  ’1,

Sir Lumley felt the sweat run down his face,
Owen must I” here already, and must have
gone to the club. By this time he knew all;
mfi have m the obnoxious p. .whapu
Nannie-i withsmm_me nbmt if

“ 'by didn’t I “watchman-or”. ' 50

I’ve been hunting over ll. dic- ‘

 

‘kcpt from Hm the mm in

purity. The cit-Resident of Krishnapoor could
have sworn Kalidasa stood before him. '

The duke was going to his carriage, which
waith for him, and he lifted his hat with his
Usual bland smile as be sad Sir Lumley.

1‘. sudden impulse ma e the older man speak
to him, bluntly and abruptly:

H I“ know who you are. What do you wantof
lll", Knlidnsa?”

liinnnuntina raised his eyebrows in polite sur-
prisv.

“ Sir Lumley Lawton! [want of you f My
dear sir, you must be careful: this sun is ver
dangerous. Your eye looks wild: you wi l
have a stroke. You must go home. My man
shall drive you. Nay, nay, my dear sir, I in—
815?."

And before Sir Lumley could resist, the duke
half—led, half-pushed him to the, carriage, re
peeling:

" The doctor said it was a case of very nearly ‘
sunstroke yesterday, and you are not quite"
right in your head yet. My dear sir, you must
net in. I will take. no denial. Pedro shall
drive you back to the hotel at once, add then
you must lie down.”

But here Sir Lumley at last broke out, impa-
tiently:

"I tell you I‘m as well as you are. Have
you seen my son Captain Lawton in the club!
That‘s all I ask." '

“ Captain Lawton?” asked the duke, meditak
tively, as if trying to recollect.

" Yes, Captain Owen Lawton, Royal British
Navy,” retorted the father, in the same em.
perated tone. “ Have you seen him today?”

"My dear sir, let me think. I see so many
people. Captain Lawton, the son of the 
tinguished Sir Lumley? I think I have. es,
sir, I have seen the gentleman in theBed Sea.
Miss Helena will tell you how he fired a shell at
the yacht, when his sister was on board. It
was a mistake, you know, my sir.”

“ But have you seen him ay, I ask?” Sir
Lumley’s patience. never great, was giving way,
and his tone was fierce.

The duke  back a pace, looking at the
Englishman si ewise with the same provoking
smile on his face, extracted a cigarette-cane
from his pocket, opened it, and proffered it to
Sir Lumley.

“’Will you not smoke, sir? The tobacco is
from my own plantation in the Vuelta Abajo.
It has the true flavor."

“ No. I don’t want to smoke. Since you
Will not answer me, I’ll ring the bell. Good
day, duke.”

“Good-day my dear sir.” _
The duke lifted his hat with his sweetest
smile. while Sir Lumley ascended the steps‘qf .
the clubhouse and rung the bell. The smile
became one of triumphant megnmgla moment
later as Diamantina stepped into is carriage

and was whirled away.

As for Sir Lumley. his M81! was sufficiently
embarrassing. He had to ask for his son his
club from w ich he had been Virtually expel!»
ed that ve morning: and it was with a burn-
ing facean in a low tone that he asked the
waiter, who opened the door, whether Captain
Lawton was inthe club. As he spoke, Millp-

3 piece of silver into the man’s hand.

The waiter became confidential in a moment.
He would not have been a club waiter if, he
had not known every item of scandal about the

lace.
p “ Yes. Captain Lawtonwas in. He men.
of the original members. The . .

A.“

pang . ‘ p
mmmumymmmmnm.

Hog-#Jwfl“ -—7

as.»

.. ’u.‘ ‘

‘ fist:  ' ‘

~:.—.—~ .

I.

 2; LN“ Av".-- _-: q..."

.J'

-..__..__ n-....- -. _..4___ ._*’-_.-

 4;;

3:. as"

\ sass-r

:J‘ at?
3.”:

W'I’he  of Diamonds. ,

ley left, and there had been some talk between 3 “ Don’t know him .’"

him and the Duke of Diamanlina in a private ,
lor with some friends. Would monsieur like ,' sir. ”

see the ca tain at once?”

“No; tell im I’m at She herd’s, and that I  when he saved your sister’s life.
wanttoseehimas soon as 0 can come over; .

that's all. 2'
The waiter bowed silent thanks for a second

douceur and went to Captain Lawton, whom A
d in clase confabulation with no less a I

. he foun
person than Colonel Hamilton.

He delivered his message in the proper con-

“ Not except for a casual introduction at Sea,

“ retty sort of casual introduction, Owen,
Didn’t you
hen r tho story i”
i “ Oh, yes, sir. Ishall always be as polite to
the duke us our position in the world requires.”
“ What do you mean?"
“Why, sir, you may be Lord Loughborough
any day in the week, as soon as my uncle Owen
dies, and I shall be the Hon. Owen Lawton.

fldential style, and Owen remarked to Hamil- i Surcl y an English peer’s the equal of any bog-

ton in a. low, bitter tone:

“You see: the nor old governor’s losing his
hold. He was a raid to come in and sue me.
By Jove, Hamilton, I’ll call out the whole club,
man after man, but what I’ll have satisfaction
for this cowardl insult. I ’11—”

“Better get t rough with the one on hand,
first " remarked Hamilton, in a tone of grim
ionularity. “That fellow’s a rattler wiih the

oils 'm told.”

“We don’t use the small sword. I have the

choice; andI chose sabers. I can cut unyin- ,

femai foreigner that ever wore hair all to pic-
cel with that, or I wouldn’t be where I am,
DOW.

Owen Lawton stretched his long limbs and I

rose up looking as fine and stalwart a spw;inn~n
of the hritish naval ofllcer as one Would wish

to see.

“ Well, good-by, Hamilton : 'ou’ll let mo have
what you promised ” he sai: , aloud, and the
brother Briton n01 ded compliance with an
“ All right, old boy.”

OWen ost no time in hurryingr to Shopherri’s,
where he found his father waiting anxiously in
the smoking-room whence the two proceeded
to a arlor and locked themselves in.

“ ow, sir, in the first place, please don’t licsi-
tats to enter that club to see me, any more,” be-
gan Owen, with hisarm round Sir Lumloy’sneck.

‘You shall come into that club whenever you
like, and I’ll pitch the first man out of the win-
dow that offers so much as to look s<kzmoe at

on. I’ve been to the executive cmnmittce and
sisted that they shall strike the Bord du Nil
OR the list of club papers; and if that internal
editor dares to say another word on his own re-
sponsibility, I’ll cut his ears off. Is thht plain?”

The tears came into Sir anley’s eyes; for
the strain of public 0 probrium began to tell on
him heavily at flfty- ve.

“ God bless you, Owen. God bless you, my

~ I could stand it for myself, but I tremble
if el

[5’

en hears an of this.”

“ She needn’t, Tell aunt Lora to keep the
Bard du Nil away. That’s the only paper has
republished the Times article here. We'll
make them sweat for this when we get home.”

“ Oh, yes, y of course,” returned Sir Lum-
ley. has ily. “ ey’ve no sort of ground for
an action, Owen; and, besides that, the King’s
Bench has no jurisdiction over Indian affairs.
It’s a mere blackmailing scheme of some people
in England who think
me in that krishnapoor business.”

“ Jf course, sir. I know that. The Renee’s '

dead. long ag0° isn’t she?"
“Of course, wen. Don’t you see, my boy,
theinfernalartfulnessof thiswholescheme? The

Renee’s dead, and probably some woman of in- 

d of her watch. It was the :
ms of Lor-lia’s, you know. The Rajah’and I ,
had them made at the some time, and he gave v
his to his wife; I mine to my sister. Your poor ,
mother had been dead a few months, then, and '

has «rot ho

I felt that I cared for nothing more in life. The
whole of this business hangs on those watches,
lad you’ll see it.”

Owen nodded, well satisfied.

“Of course, sir. No need of givin
explanation. The Ranee’s deal . an 50’s the
Reich’s brat Kalidasa. I only wish we had the
mono they hid away from us.”

“ e have some of it, Owen,” observed Sir
Inmley, with a chuckle.

me any

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
rns com: or nonoa.

“Wm, sir,” observed Owen at this moment, ‘
filing and looking" at his watch, “I fear I can’t f
have a. little appointment for ,

dine with you.

the af’t’arnoon, and expect a carnage every mo— ‘

meat.
“ are, Owen?" asked his father, in sur-

“Onl a drive sir ” answered the captain,

waive y. “I’ll’be back about half an hour 1

.fter sunset surely."
“Which affection do you drive, Owen? If
on like I'll go with you.”

“Well, thank yo air, but on this occasion
I’d rather not. I I all have compan , and I
don’t want toexpose’you tothe sun. 122m can’t
stand it as 1 can, sir.

“ Oh, very well, Owen," was the rather of-
fended reply; “as you please. I’ll not force

B h —
nggncmfiguhrfimm his son ‘

hey have got a hold on ;

garly Brazilian that ever wore shoe-leather, I

. ho w."
gir I .nmley granted assent to this truly Brit-
ish speech and Owen went on:

“ This life-saving business is all very roman-
tic, you know sir, and all that sort of thing;
but it won‘t do to have a parcel of be gar y
forioign,dukes coming after my sister, you now:
WI 1 it?’

“But, to tell the truth, Owen, this duke’s not
. a beggar by any means. In fact, he’s quite-—-”
“ I know, I know, sir. He has money enough
I somewhere, and behaves like a gentleman. I

don’t object to associating with him at the club,
i you know—”
“ What were you talkin about then, on
i and he, at the club?” asked ir Lumley,sud en-
; l y remembering the waiter’s story.
Owen looked steadily at his father.
Vi “I never saw him, sir.”
* “ Never saw him! Why, the club waiter says
i he saw (you go into a private room with t e
, duke an some of his friends."
, “The club waiter was drunk or lyin , sir.
i But come, it’s time I was off. Good-by, s r."
“Owen,” interrupted Sir Lumley, catching

his son by the arm, “ ou’re going to fight a

duel with the duke. on’t deny t. I see it
. plainly. He pretended he’d not seen you, and

you pretend you’vo not seen him when 1 know
you both saw each other. What's it all
about?"
“ ‘What's all what about, sir?”
“Coin”: don‘t pretend innocence. I’ve been
out myself, young man. Is it about this club
air?
“ No, sir, nothing to do with it."
“ Is it about Helen or me?”
“ Nothing of the sort, sir.”
“Is it about this watch etc i"
“No, sir. I must say that t e duke publicly
, expressed his belief that the whole story was
false, and as publicly announced that he was
your fricnd. ”

Sir Lumley looked perfectly stunned for a
moment, from causes that Owen did not under-
stand.

“ id he say he disbelieved it, andthat he was
my friend 5”

“Certainly he did, sir, before Halim Pasha,
‘ Hamilton and a dozen others. It was very
. handsome in him, I must say. ”

“Then what in the name of all that’s won~

 

I
‘ derful, are you going to fight about, Owen?"

i “I’ve not admitted we are going to do any-
thing of the kind, sir." .

l “Oh! Confound our honorable code. boy!
, Whatphave you Wei-ed with Diamantina
; a nut

“ Well. sir, he took offense at my firings shot

(Everth’i's yacht to bring him to. I apo ogized
or) .

“ Well, that ended it; didn’t it?"

“ Yes, sir."

“Then what else had you to difvr about
3 Owen?”

“ Helen, sir.”

“Helen!”

“Yes, sir. He took offense at my asking
Helen to leave the yacht and come about! the
Snap r. She didn’t come anyhow; but he in-
siste that my r nest was a reflection on his
honor, and ly ove I couldn’t give him any
apology for t at, on know, so—‘ , I

“ You fight to- ght: is it so?” asked Sir Lam-
ley, eagerly.

Owen was silent.

Then the older man went up to the younger
and pressed his arm close.

“Owen,” he said, in a low, grating VOICE,
“ you must kill that mun.”

1 Owen started.

, “Kill him, sir? Nay. I only mean to slnsll
, him a little. He savod Helen and my all!“ air
: ter all. I don’t want to fight him, to to“ the
l truth; but he insists on it.”

i “ Nevertheless, Owen, you must kill the Duke
of Diamantina, if you can,” said Sir Lumley,

mly.

Owen stared at his father in great surpl'isev
a and hesitated for several moments before he an-
[ swered: ,
l “I can hardly do that, sir without creating
l a scandal. It’s foreign to the Code, on 809v
, and, we‘re fighting strictly on the poin of hon-
: 01'.‘
, I SiaLumley uttered a. harsh and disagreeable

an

g .
1 ‘ ’I‘o‘ntsof honor and Codesl D0 mmmmem-
bar tl: :l. thins 1877, bog." \Vhat ham I310 ‘10.

“ hydidn‘tymunmeymknawfiobnkei vuhiirxh-s? IN V momentum”
‘ ‘ »-.

“Why” it? Because Idon't."

9..

‘01

I I. is... i "i .

hf l.  1.... ‘1‘...“
.
7 ~ "-

"v' (a
c , \

 

 

“ Then what do you meant"

“Simply this, sir. I came to Cairo to meet.
the duke. If I had not, he would have posted
me. He’s the challenger, and I’m going to give
him a lesson for forcing a quarrel on me. But
I can‘t kill him. Remember he saved Helen
and smut Lora. It wouldn’t be the thing, you

ow.

Sir Lumley smiled in a grim and disagreeable
wa .

“YMay I ask then how you’re going to gvo
him the lesson you k of?”

“Certainly, sir. ’ve chosen sabers for wea-
pons. I never met the man I was afraid to
tackle with them, and I intend to give the duke
such acut aswill keep him from challengiw,r
any more English oflicers with their national
weapon.”

The baronet compressed his lips in an ill-tem-

way.

“ Well, Owen, all I can say is, ou’re n biggcl‘
fool than I thought. In a due], a ways kill your
man if you can. Good-by.”

“(lend-by, sir.”

Father and son parted a little stiflly. Sir
Lumley felt keenly disappointed at his failure
to induce his son to commit murder under tho
guise of a duel, and Owen felt hurt at his fn<
ther’s apparent indifference to his danger.

The fact was that Sir Lumle did not dare. to
expose his motivo to his son. e felt as helpil'SS
as a risoner chained to the stake for torture.
He ared not tell an one what he knew, that
the Duke of Diamant he was young: Kelidas n,
the rightful Prince of Krishnapoor. To do so
would be to acknowledge a foundation for the
rumors he was denying so strenuously. L‘s-

'ially did he shrink from lettingr his childrcn
mw the truth. They had always resppctrd
him, and he could not bear to forfeit their re~

s t. ‘

pIIce watched Owen in silence as he left the pa r~
lor and went into the street and saw him enter
a waiting carriage and drive away u ith Colonel
Hamilton, the outline of whose figure he caught
thrr nigh the glass.

'11: :n, full of uneasiness, he strolled away
from the hotel, heediess of the sun, buried in
his own gloomy thoughts, till he found himst
in the bazaars, the only cool place in all Cairo
on that scorching day.

Here he managed to while away part of the
afternoon till the calls of the muezzins from the
minarets warned him that the hour for evening
prayer was come, and with it the coolness of
sunset, which invited him to return to Shep~
herd’s.

The band was playing in the park of the Ez—
bekiah as he came back; the streets were full of
Eeople; the watering—carts were jolting along;

gyptian he s and pashas were taking their
evenin can r; and all Cairo was out, whvn
the ol diplomat walked back through tin
streets to Shepherd’s; almost the only Frank on
foot in sight.

He caught the glances of more than one of
the haughty mounted officers cast on him as
they d with an expression of curivsity. and
noticed that he was the subject of comment a r '1
conversation which his now morbid fancy in-
te reted to his own disadvantage.

he hue of his sunburnt face deepened to
crimson, and he turned his head angrily away
as he trudged on to the hotel: but, once on H .-.
steps, he turned proudly round, as if to face all
the world and defy it.

As he had ex cted, he found several Egyp—
tianomcers loo ing at and pointing- to him in;
they ; for club scandal flies quickly in

leaching his hands angrily and looking
sternly back at them, every eye turned from
his and the rude equestrians roxio on, abafiheli.
Then he heard the rapid patter of boots and
saw a lady and gentleman on horseback coming:
down the street, rather an unusual sight in
Cairo till within the last few yea rs. _
Something in the outline of the figures strut-i:
him as familiar, and brought the blood fm- ,
his face to his heart, leaving him of a gray I J1.

lor.
Then they dashed by, the gentleman lifting:
his white helmet hat in the most marked and

statel courtesy, while. the lady bowed with
pqu y public recognition to the amazed ba ro-
net.

Sir Lumley involuntarily, with the mechani-
cal instinct of early breeding, doii’ed his broad
turban hat and stood bareheaded in the sunset.
asifa king and queen were passing by. His
eyes could not leave them whether he would or
no, and he stood staring after them like a man
in adrenal till they were lost in the crowd of
vehicles and equestrians going eastward.

It was not yet sunset.

Owen had promised to be back by this timn,
and yet he was nowhere visible.

But the unhappy father had but just seen,
with his own eyes, his son’s 81‘ tagonist, tin
Duke of Diamantina. alive. unl» rt, gay and
debonnair, riding by With the Princess Mela-
{:tms, as if duels were things utterlv unknown

the world of riches to which they belongs In

Their“) war-mum at that memos”- ->~*mi d in
m... " on Sir l. "rilcy l.n“.‘«'-‘ ‘ it.
i an}. an album-tum oL n winging. a“

 

i

 

 

4

The Duke of Diamonds.

1‘7

 

 

could see them both, by all means the hand
somest pair in Cairo.

Theeijii'ikncess, whom he knew to be thirty -six,
look 0 the duke’s sister, in her tight riding
habit, En lish style, with its tall hat and vail.

Diaman ina, in a white riding dress of severe
simplicity, looked, as he was, a perfect cava-
lier; and even in their rapid passage, Sir Lum-
ley noted the extraordinary beauty of their
animals, dark chestnut mares Without spot or
blemish of any sort the flower of Fyzoul Ab-
dallah’s stud. He liad heard the history of
their escape from Helen, and all Cairo was rav-
ing about Al Sabok and the two mares.

hen Sir Lumley started, to find himself bare-
headed gazing after the duke; and he hastily
clefflped on his hat and went into the hotel.
soon as he made his appearance in the of-
fice, the clerk now wide awake and full of busi-
ness accos him re tfully:

“ Letter for you, Sir Lumley—Colonel Ham-
ilton left it. Said it needed no answer, sir.”

With fin rs that trembled in spite of them-
selves, Sir umley tore open the note. He felt
what was in store for him, and kept his iron
calm of manner as he read:

" Dun Sm Lunar: Please come over to the con-
sulate as soon as you can; but keep the thin quiet.
for it’s an affair o honor. Owen‘s been hu pretty
badly—not dangerous, on know, but very painful
and much loss of bloocl’. Kee it from the ladies,
and every one else. ours,

“REGINALD Hammers.”

Sir Lumley kept his face inscrutable and ask-
ed the clerk, as he folded u the note:

“ Where’s the consulate

But not waiting for the answer, he stalked
out, um into a hack and drove over to the
Brit sh nsulate, which every one in Cairo
knew.

He asked for Colonel Hamilton, and was met
by that gentleman himself, who hurried him to
his own rivate apartments in haste. There Sir
Lumle roke down and gasped:

“W at is it, Hamilton? Is the boy dead?
Tell me the worst.”

The consul-general shook his head.

“No, no; not as bad as that. But that Bra—
zilian’s a devil with the sword. Poor Owen will
lose his right arm. In fact it’s just been ampu-
tated, to save his life. ”

Sir Lumley uttered a hollow groan and sunk
powerless into a chair.

CHAPTER XXIV.
THE EXTRA snEE'r.

THE Bord du Nil made its bow to the foreign
public of Cairo every Saturday morning, with
a regularity that testified to Mr. Frankly’s
talents as a bill collector: for it is a melancholy
fact that weekl and daugjournals cannot be
printed withou money pay printers and
pa r-makers.

ike many other Levantine pers, it was
blished in two lan es, he being in Ital-
an, the other half Frenc , with an occasional
extra edition in which English was substituted
for one of the other languages.

Most of these polyglot papers are edited b
vagabond Italians, who murder the Englis

rts of their 'ournals in a ghastly manner; but

he Bord du it was an honorable exception to
the rule.

Frankly had been in Egypt for at least ten
years, having drifted there from another ten

ears in Europe, and had become a very expert
finguist in all the Mediterranean to ues, with
a large stock of Arabic in the form 0 slang.

Like most newspaper men of his roving ways,
he was a Bohemian writer, who dehg ted in
nothing so much as a “slashmg”artrcle, and
believed devoutly in the power of the press,
muzzled though it be in ypt. .

0n the day after that n which Sir
had been stunned by the une ,ted
hap nin to his son, the Bard u N came out
witgel’in nglish extra which was hawked about
the streets of Cairo in true Yankee fashion and
sold like wildfire, as Dom Gil had predicted.

Clarence Hart, who had been hunting all over
the city to find Dom Gil Grabador, whom_he
had at last begun to suspect of being the miss-
ingGilbert Carver, heard the b0 5 yelling out
their Walls! of the pa er in a ozen different
languages, and caught t e words: _

“ Gran duello entre cl e do Diamantma
e’l Signor Inglese.” (Great duel between the
Duke of Diamantina and the English gentle—

man.)

Much surprised, for he had not heard a. whis-
per of any such thing. he bogght a paper at
once, paying double price in s ignorance of

'ene prices, and saw before him a real news-
paper, with an extra sheet, printed in English,
With displayed head linen, short hs,
and a general “newsy "'81) 00 that di his
heart good. It looked like ome.

anley
r

He had not been able to find Dom Gil since

they first entered Cairo, for the Brazilian had
suddenly disappeared from the house of ma.
mantina as soon as he had set it in order for his
chief, and the duke did not give ce any
information on the subject.

Therefore Hart, feeling uneasy  anxious,
Eunged into the paper rather to distract his
' ioughts than for any other purpose:

O

 

His eye was immediately caught by the head-
lines, arranged in true sensational style:

“ THE WAGER 0F BATTLE.
DIAMONDS ARE TBUMPS.
Sanguinary Duel Between Foreigners.
Northern Beef Against Southern Nerve.
THE SOUTH wmsml”

The account beneath these startling headings
was as follows:

Thanks to the unequaled energy of our Sun
the NILE BANK is to-day the only paper in the war
that contains an account of the duel fought behind
the great pyramid of Gizeh, while our regular edition
was oing to ress.

“ e wmt re.

“The NILE Bun: stafl wouldn‘t miss a duel like
that. We’re not in that business.

“ It was all arranged in a club-house that shall be
nameless. The D. of D. and Capt. O. L. of H. B. M.
Navy, had a little difference about a lady who shall
be nameless, and to carve each other, in gen-
tlemanly style, be rid the great pyramid, at
o’clock r. ii.

“To accommodate them we kept back our regu-
lar edition for a couple of hours, and we had our ne-
ward. Both men were on time.

“ The duel was just perfect.

“The appearance of the combatants when they
stripped wasa t contrast. The En lish rson
was a two hun red-pounder, with a goo de of fat
about him. He looked solid but slow.

“The D. of D. was what our old friend John C.
Heenan would have called a ‘dais .’ With fifty

unds less on his bones than John , he was as

as a nut and as quick as a flash of Jersey light

nl .
2&0 time was lost in preliminaries. We shall not
ve the names of the seconds because it ml ht not
0 them any good with the khedlve, but 1] only
sa this: They were (here all the time.

‘ John Bull 0t to work as soon as the blades cross-
ed, with a we -intended cut at the D.’s head. Un-
fortunately the gentleman from Brazil was not there
when it came, and Mr. Bull had a narrow escape
from decapitation in return.

“Then ensued the queer-est duel we ever saw.
After the first clash the blades never crossed: and
John Bull had to stand on the defensive, while the D.
of D. was most of the time behind his enemy‘s back
waving his sword in close proximity to the other‘s
head. Any one could see t at Bull‘s life was in his

a, foe‘s hands whenever he wished to take it.

“ At last, furious and disappointed, the Englishman
managed to catch the D. with his left hand, and
threw backhis sword to give a down cut that would
have split his skull. In that instant u went the D. ‘s
saber, and cut of! his enemy‘s arm ust above the
elbow, as clean as if it been done by a surgeon.

“We had the Pleasure of examining the wea n
with which this eat was performed. and found at
{gasjustassharpasthe razor of the best barber

ll‘O.

“ This ended the aflair at once. Two surgeons
were on hand, and they had the artery tied u in a
inky, while the D. of D., with a polite bow to h 3 late

oe, went 0! to keep anengagement with a lady."

Thus ended the account in the Bard du Nil of
what Hart be u to think nothililigebut an inge-
nious hoax. e had seen the d on the re-
vious evening, and he oertainl did not look ' e
a man who had just been figh ' a duel.

Hart had found him at home, Just preparing
for his evening ride with the princess, and the
duke had been as quiet and gracious as usual.
To his own inquiry after Dom Gil, Diamantina
had answered:

“Ma dear sare, I never keep track of Dom
Gil. He comes and goes, and as long as the
household goes well I ask no questions. Au re-
voir, sure. I not need your services till
to-morrow afternoon. Till then, see Cairo.
En oy yourself.”

d that was all.

Dom Gil had not been home all night; none
of the servants knew anything about him; and
Hart had all day been hunting for him in vain
through Cairo.

The article in the Bard du Nil interested him
so much that he glanced through the rest of the
paper to see if there was anything else that
concerned him or his friends.

He soon came to the French leader which
was repeated in Italian on the opposite .
It was much shorter than the account 0 e
duel, and in a diflerent style. It said:

“We regret to record the withdrawal by consent
from the rolls of the Khedive Club of the name of Sir
Lumley Lawton. In consequence of the article we
copied from last week's London Times. Sir Lumley
should have i on open charges and showed
himself innocent. His retreat shows that he fears
an investigation. We are able to as. from rivate
informalgog tsh'atIt‘he weatcli) 8:31:31}? of -

r, w c r um o n such peculi
grass, is now in Cairo {ported by alady who seefi
tobe quite proud of the stolen pro rty. Respect
for the sex alone restrains us from gffiniher name,
but we would adVise Sir Lumley to seek land as
soon as may be. Egyptian air is fatal to y-blown
reputations.”

Then Hart folded up hisflpfiper and fell into a
fit of deep musmg ‘18 9 W ed homeward.

He was too acute not to have divined from
all he had seen the identity of the duke and the

rincess. O’Shea’s stories told him at various

mes before they ever saw the duke had pre
pared him for it, and the princess’s emotion at
sight of Sir Lumley told him the rest. He only
wondered at his own infatuation in not sooner
recognizin his uncle Gilbert Carver, in the
sham Bras lien Dom Gil Gra-bador. But what

 

was the duke’s object then in saving Helen
Lawton from the Arabs? If he wanted ven-
ce, he surely could have had it there by
eavin her alone to Fyzoul Abdallali’s mercy.
Pon ering over the mystery, he arrived at
the Diamantina mansion, rung the bell, and
was admitted b a smart E ptian watchman
inmilitar un‘ orm, who sai , in reply to his
surprised ook:
‘ Dey all gone, Howadji. Me watchman till
dey come back. What name, Howadji?”
‘Hart. I’m the duke’s secretary. What
doesall this mean?” asked the yo man, be-

wildered. “ I left the house only t ee hours
ago and all was quiet.”

The watchman grinned.

“ Di’mond great lord, Howadji. He go quick

when go. Letter for you, Howadji.”

And he handed Clarence a note in the delicate
runnisgg hand of the duke, which Hart hastily
peru . It was in the curt form of an order
to himself :

“On recei tofthis ow Alexandrl callatPa —
doulos, Delilth & Cog. They will gi$ ou rung;
orders and funds. Youare to come to elapetros.

“ Drums-rum.”

“ Melapetros,” repeated Hart to himself in a
dreamy wag; “ I never heard of such a place.”

But all t e same, he took the train to Alex-
andria that evening.

 

CHAPTER XXV.
mmno.

THE Hon. Lorelia and her niece were wn-
ing in the hotel lor at Shepherd’s after
breakfast, which t ey had been com lled to
take alone, Sir Lumley not having in e his ap-
pearance since he went to the Consulate the
eyening before. \

“Oh, dear me, Helen,” cried aunt Lorelia,
ruefully. “ How ever shall we get through an-
other hot day like yesterday in this horrible
place? What a change from that dear duke!

umleflgught to be ashamed of himself, leav-
ingus ' ethisallday. If we onlyhad an ce-
cort I’d not mind, but there isn’t so much as a
boy visible. What shall we do?”

‘Why not take a carriage and drive out to
the pyramids, aunt? We can take one belong-
ing to the hotel and be all safe.”

‘But it wouldn’t be uite the correct thing,
Helen, to go alone. e might be robbed or
murdered b some of those Ara .”

Helen .

“ Oh. no, aunt. Mr. Hart told me there was
nothing to fear in Egypt; the Arabs are in as
good control as the Exile of London.” -

“I wish we con d d Captain O’Shea, or
even Mr. Hart,” observed the elder lad , mus-
ingly. “ It’s a dreadful chan e to be le t alone
like this. I believe we’ll as the proprietor
what’s best to do.”

She rung the bell in the sublime faith ofa
British female in the integrity of hotel-keepers,
and soon had that functionary before her, ques-
tioning him about Sir Lumley and a dozen dif-
ferent things.

She noticed, or rather Helen did for her, that
the landlord was very ready to answer. and
that he eyed her with a certain protecting fa-
miliarity that was fo ' to hisusual ways.

“He would advise e ladies not to worry
about Sir Lumley. There were a number of
formalities that fore' residents ’ad to pass
through, and no doubt ir Lumle was busy at
the Consulate ’avin ’em done. ’d advise the
ladies not to go to t e pyramids now. It’s too
’ot for pleasure. Better take the ’otel carcass
and acouple of donkeys and go to the bums.
They’re mce and shady. You won’t suffer from.
the eat there, ladies.”

Lorelia, imagining the cawass to be some sort
of a carriage answered resignedl ;

“Ve we then. Get the cawass ready
and we go. all be back for dinner. ”

As she spoke, she drew out that fatal watch,
the innocent cause of so much trouble and con-
sulted it wrth her usual languidly aifected in-
difi'erence.

The landlord looked at it, bowing and rub.
bin hishands.

g pardon, m lady I’m sure, but that’s a
monstroust prettyy watch of yours. Can’t ’el
noticingit, you know. Began-Mon, my lady. ’
_ This 'ckled Lorelia migh g, and she opened
it very slowly for consults. ion, so that the
landlord might have a good look. Flattery
was sweet to her, no matter from whose lips.

Then the landlord backed out and as soon as
hle lEras down-stairs observ to the room
c or :

“That ’ere paper’s right Dobbs.
the watch, sure as a gun. i
sparkler in all my days.”

Meantime aunt and niece attired themselves
in their coolest Indian dresses and hats, and
waited in patience for the waiter to tell them
“$53.3”? “2”” ' ‘ I

“Ya came at the door and Lorel
midi; “ Come in?” ’ h
, piratical-lookin man, with a black
bear-digit covered his braid chest: with shoul-
ders like Atlas and the muscles of a Hercules;
stood at the door, dressed in rub velvet and
gold lace, with a yellow 511k sas round his

She’s got
never saw sich a

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18

The Duke of Diamonds.

 

waist that Ipositive] bristled with knives, pis—
tols, yatag ans an other murderous-looking
implements. In his hand this formidable-look-
ing person carried a great black whip two
inches thick at the butt, and this whip he held
up to his forehead in a sort of military salute.

Lorelia shrieked and Helen started back in
aflright.

The pirate at the door smiled in a manner un-
expectedly gentle, and said in a deep
vo ce:

“ Donkeys ready ladies.”

Then aunt Lorelia in trembling tones ven-
tured to falter out:

“ Who—who are you?”

“ I, my lady? I’m Nicolo, the hotel cawass.
Every one in Cairo know me.”

His accent was of the slightest, and the ladies
be toperceive they had mistaken a peace—
ab 6 rter and messenger for a pirate.

“ nd are you to take us to t e bazar?” ask-
ed‘ ‘Levcvrelia, more bolldéliy. h

herever m a c ooses to o. P -
mids if she likes.’¥ y g m

But aunt Lorelia did not want to go to the
pyramids. She preferred the bazars and felt
perfectly safe now. This iratical cawass was
ashandsome as a picture in his fine imposin
style and Lorelia secretly wished, as he lifted
her bodily like a baby to put her on her donkey,
that she could have such a splendid fellow to
show off in London.

“ What a sensation he’d make behind a car-
riage in the Park Helen.” she whispered, as
Nicole steppfd out beside their donkeys on the
w? to the azar.

ever had Lorelia enjo ed herself so much as
she did that day under t e guidance of N icolo
in the bazars. That wonderful cawass knew
every one and everything) in the bazar, super-
intended her purchases t at she might not be
cheated (getting twenty-five per cent. commis-
sion on profit from the various shopkee rs for
his little services) and telling her every ing she
wanted to know.

When at last they left those seducing re-
cincts the Hon. Virgin’s purse was much lighter
than when it went in, and Helen was complete—
ly satiated with color and pictures ueness.

Nicolo the cawass had done that a service
he did not quite understand but whic was none
the less a valuable one to Sir Lumley Lawton.
He had kept the ladies in the native part of the
town and out of all hearin of the newsboys
crying the Bord du Nil, and t was with perfect
tranquillity that they went down to dinner that
evening where they found Sir Lumley already
deep in is soup and ap arently as tranquil as

‘ if he had but just partel from them.”

“Well, Lumley, I must say you are a valu-
able escort ” remarked his sister, in her iciest
tones. “Here you have left us all alone since
yesterday morning. Do you suppose we can go
out alone i”

“Seems ou have,” returned Sir Lumley,
gruffly. “ icolo can do the honors here bet-
ter than I can. Have you seen enough of
“fit”: * l t be to

‘ pa, we ve on v jus gun see
it!” crigd elen, animated] . “Those bazars

are just too awfully lovely or anything.”
Poor Helen was not proof against the seduc-

g tlons of slang.

“Well,” replied her father, in a hard, con-

‘ strained sort of voice, “ today will have to sat-

‘—

isf you. We start for Alexandria by the six
o’c ock train to-morrow morning, and you’ll

' .hfiv’? to do your packing to-night, girls; that’s

There was an immediate duet of protests and
entreaties, but the baronet was firm as a rock.
He knew so much of which they were blissfully
ignorant that Cairo had become a place of tor-
ture to him in which blow after blow came
driving at his unprotected head.

Owen’s severe wound, his utter incapaci to
stem the current of newspaper clamor by s p-

ing the Bord du Nil or cutting of! the ears of
Brankly, as he had boasted he would do, put a
diflerent face on the whole business. The jour-
nal sold through the streets as only spicy social
scandals can sell and there was no one to stop
the yelling of the newsboys.

Colonel Hamilton was powerless, now. In
the ness of his heart he had violated the law
for is friend’s sake, and had already received
aprivate hint coming‘from the Khedive, that
no notice would be ta en of the .matter unless
there was any further trouble, in which case
the Vicero would be obliged to etc the Bord
du Nil. an at the same time to write the Brit-
ish Government requesting Hamilton’s dis-
missal.

Thus, as we have said, the Lawtons were

. powerless, father and son, and had to sit still in

a darkened room. while all Cairo wagged its
tongues about them.

Poor Owen was reduced to the weakness of a
child, he who had beenbsao strong and domineer-
ing, and be In on his ck looking gloom“): at;
the wall and t inking, With vain regret, of the
lost arm he would never see again. -

“If it had gone in battle, I could have stood
it: boat: loge it dip a duel, pnd just now what:

or mm are c n n cry on you, -
find it pretty hard linogei tell you." ’

 

Sir Lumley had no consolation to offer, and !

tried none, as Owen went on:

“ And that’s not the worst of it. There’s the T

Snapper waiting at Suez, and I absent from her.
They ll court-martial me for this as soon as I get
home. Curse that Diamantinal I wish I’d nev-
er seen his face.”

And Owen groaned impatiently.

“I wish we none of us had, Owen,” assented
his father. “But, how did he manage to do it,
my dear boy?” ,

‘ I don’t know sir. I never saw such a fel—
low in my life. He wouldn’t cross swords like
a man and fight it out, but he had some infer-
nal monkey-tricks of dodging a blow, and then
coming inside your ard, flourishing his blade
close to your face, never saw in any one. I
could have cut him fifty times, for e never

rded; but I was afraid of taking a return
low at the same time, and the swords were
just like razors. Then at last I abbed him,
and in the same moment he cut 0 my left arm
as if it had been a carrot.”

Again OWen groaned impatiently, and turned
to the wall.

“ Confound this stump. It feels as hot as fire.
Won’t some one dress it for me, or am I to lie
here and die all alone?”

Sir Lumley called for the nurse, an old soldier
from the military hospital, who managed to
make the patient more comfortable in a short 1
space of time, and then it was determined that
t ey should all leave Alexandria as soon as the
doctor said Owen could be moved, so as to get
back to the Snapper before any trouble arose.

The doctor pronounced that after the second 5
day the patient could go a short journey by I
rail, as the wound-fever would be over and sup-
puration have set in toward recovery.

Accordingly, prom t to the a mted hour,
and before fashionab e modern airo had quit-
ted its bed, the Lawtons were steaming toward
Alexandria at twenty miles an hour, the ca
tain in a se rate car, attended by the old so?
dier-nurse, is father and female relatives in
another car, the women even ignorant of his
vicinity, much more of his danger.

CHAPTER XXVI.
A GREEK conmssxon HOUSE.

TEE Greek house of Papadoulos, Demetri &
00., dealers in flgs Latakia tobacco, dates,
olives, rice, cotton, r inoceros horns, elephant
tusks, hides antelope horns, hippo tamus
teeth, gold-dust, cahcoes, hardware, s and
reflees, candles and molasses, was one of the
most respectable firms in Alexandria.

Clarence Hart, landing at the station, asked .
for this house, and was rattled away to the
handsome qua by the Old Port, where, within
sight of the oating dock, Ras-el-Teen light-
house, and a forest of shipping, stretched the
dingy yellow warehouses o “ apadoulos, De-
metri & Co.,” as several hundred feet of black
paint informed you.

Papadoulos, Demetri & Co. seemed to be do-
ing a flourishing business, from the tremendous
row that was going on round about them.

Their warehouses occupied a large and long
block of buildings, and hundreds of rters
were staggering about or wheeling truc s with
boxes, barrels, and bales of all shapes and di-
mensions, in and out of the black, cavernous
archways of the lower story.

Carts are not used to any great extent in
Alexandria for the transport of merchandise
and therefore there was an absence of the usual
and deafening thunder and rattle that attends a
great commercial house; but the porters made
up for it by all sorts of cries, as they sta gered
in and out of the building under 10a 8 that
would have killed any horse.

The hackman pulled up outside of this Babel
of voices and hustling rters, and Clarence
Hart got out and enter the huge warehouses.

There was no one to direct him: not a single

rter seemed to care whether he ran a ' st

im or not; and he had to wander about in the
midst of piles of merchandise of all varieties of
smell, from the pleasant fragrance of figs and
raisins to the decidedly objectionable odors of
raw hides badly cured, till he led, off in one
corner of’ the warehouse, a lit le boarded-up
shed with a window. which be naturally too
for some sort of an office.

Tapping at this window, it was Opened by a
little weazen-faced, black-e ed old Greek in a
velvet cap, who popped out is head and squeak-
ed out something in Romaic, of which Hart was
blissfully ignorant.

“ I want to see Mr. Papadoulos or an one of
the firm ”—be Clarence, in Englis , when
the old Greek abbered away faster than ever,
holding up a. card and gesticulating violent] .

Clarence produced one of his own cardsw ic
he had procured in Cairo, and the id ht seemed
tomoll f the old Greek, for be singled appro-
val, stuc the card in a little box beside him in
the wall, and Hart saw it go 11 the ordinary
shoot used in most newspaper o ces.

In a few minutes came a whistle down a

skirtilg-tube and the old Greek set his ear to
Eli: ori ce an resently turned to Hart, saying
in labored Eng ish:

 

ness now; came out of his hole, revealing him-

! self as a slender. b0wed old man, in a. red velvet

jacket, white silk pctticoat, and red velvet leg-

, gings; a yellow sash round his waist completing

 

“ You-a—pleuo-a-come a.”
I. bowed and smiled with the utmost p011“-

an attire about as unlike sober, serious business
as anything ever conceived of or read about.

He Opened a door in the dingy wall, led the
way up a dark, winding and. usty staircase,
into a second story of vast Silent warerooms,
full of merchandise, piled up to the open roof,
tilt feet above them.

hreadin r their way through :1 devious path

among wal s of bales, they Came to another
staircase, which climbed up to the open roof,
and Clarence asked, in amazement:

“ Is the office up there?”

The old Greek laughed.

“You-a—vill-a—see-a,” he answered, slowly,
and with evident difficulty in giving his Greek
thought English words.

Then they went up the staircase as far as the
tiebeams of the roof, when they came on a
light gallery which took them out to the side of

a the house; and Clarence saw that they were en-

terin a large square tower, which overlooked
the w ole port, and was itself a deliciously cool
retreat on that hot day.

Here at last he found the private office of the
great firm, and into a cool room, with a polished
tile floor, a circular divan and a few stools and
low tablesz he was introduced by the old Greek,

‘ who said, indicatinga gentleman inside:

“ Papadoulos. ”

Clarence entered, a little at a less what lan-
gauge to use, but he was set at ease by Mr.

apadoulos, who proved to be a fine ray-
bearded old man in the picturesque Greek ess,
who came to meet him, saying:

“ Mr. Hart, I have expect you to-day, ears.
I s’all be glad to see you now. You ’ave just
arrive?”

“ Yes, sir, b direction of—-”

“Yes yes, know. M. In Due de Diaman-
tina. on are his secrctuire, his good friend.
Were you ever at Mela tros, Monsieur Hart?”

“ N o, sir, never hear of the place till now, I
assure 'ou.”

Mr. apadoulos laughed.

“You s’all seea beautiful lace, de residence
of Madame la Princess’s. ou s’all have pas-
sage on de barque Euphrosyne. She sail to-
morrow. Do you know my partners, sare?”

“No, sir.”

“Vl'ell, well, you shall. Mr. Demetri, he is
now at Marseilles directing our agency there,
but here. comes our junior partner, Mr. Glyp-
teros. He has been in America many years.
Let me introduce you: Mr. Hart from Ameri-
ca, Mr. Glypteros.’

Clarence b0wed before a tall thin man in
glossy black clothes, whose solemn, clean-
shaven face looked as if it had just moved out
of a portrait of William M. Evarts, and would
bein its best place behind the reading-desk of a
country Methodist parish in Connecticut.

“Very happy to make your acquaintance,”
said Mr. Gly(pteros in a regular Yankee tone of
voice. “ It 008 me good tosee a Borsting face
once more.” -

 

CHAPTER XXVII.
mu. GLYPTEROS.

CLARENCE HART looked with scme astonish-
ment at the long thin man who talked English
with a down-East twang, and who was intro-
duced to him as a Greek gentleman, Mr. Glyp-
teros.

“Is it true that you have been in .America,
Mr. Gly terns?” he asked, With curiosity.

“ Wan , yes I used to live there once,”
drawled Mr. Gly teros; “ and I hain’t forgotten
how to talk yet, l’guess.”

“I should think not,” remarked Hart, point-
edly. “ I should have taken you for an Ameri-
can anywhere, You could never  that
acccnt.”

Mr. Glypteros smiled, till his face looked like
a parchment on which water had been spilt till
it shriveled u in creases. .

“Don’t ye 0 too sure of that," he observed.
“I’ve seen the time when my own blood rela-
tions couldn’t tell who I was, from my voice.”

u 0h, I suppose you mean your Greek
friends,” assented Hurt. “That’s quite likely.
I never should have taken you for a Greek, my-
self, you knOW- , But 3'00 COMM never hide the
Yankee accant if you spoke English.”

“ Guess not,” remarked Glyptorog‘ with a
wink at M1} PflPRdOUIOS- “ The Americans are
adarned s1 ht smarter than the Greeks; ain’t
the , Papa miles?”

arence could not understand what the joke
was between the two, but from some cause or
other the old merchant began to laugh in a
soft, polite way, and Mr. Glypteros smggered
audibly. while the head of the house extracted
Ins snuff-box from the red sash he wore and of-
fered it to Hart, sa ing:

“ Will you not ta 0 a pinch ears? I use it for
my eycmght. I am told it clears the sight won-
derfully. ‘

And then all three laughed again, Hart not
understanding the joke, but taking it good-na-
turfidly, if, as he began to sm mine, it was pu—
tin y at his own expense.

 

"c "v- ‘

 

 

 

 

l
l

. my.

 

 

Then the American was struck by a sudden
thou ht, and asked:
“ ave you known the Duke of Diamantina

is long, entlemen?”

fi. Papafioulos smiled and looked reflectivst
at his snuff-box.

“ Yes, sure. We ’ave know de duke since he
was born, I may say. His family have always
been the patrons of our house."

“ Indeed i” asked Hart, eagerly. “ Did his fa-
ther have dealings with you also! Did you know
the Ra‘sh?”

Mr. ’apadoulos instantly chanted his whole
manner. From a polite, gentle old man he be-
came a sort of statue of ice, saying, as he turned
awe , in the dryest of voices:

“ vill get you your orders from the duke,
sare. De asking of questions is not among
them.”

He sat down at his desk and began to sort
among some papers, while Clarence turned
crimson at his rebuff, .stammering to Mr. Glyp—
tcros, who regarded him With equal coldness:

“ I beg your pardon, but I thought that
among friends—”

“ I ucss you’re a pretty oung man,” re-
marks Mr. Glypteros, quiet y, “and a little
advice won’t harm you, Mr. Hart When
you’re eatin’ a man’s bread ’tain’t the right
thing to ask questions about his rivate afo
fairs. I’ll tell ye this much. The uke is the
richest man in these parts and holds a control-
ling share in this house. Any one thnt wants
to git along with him had better attend. to his
business and keep a still tongue. Anything else
you want to ask?”

“ If you please, yes,” returned Clarence, con-
siderably crestfallen. “ l have reason to be—
lieve that Dom Gil Grabador, the duke’s stew-
ard and agent, is none other than an uncle of
mine. You have been in America, sir, and
probably know him. Do you know whether
his real name is Gilbert Carver or not?”

Mr. Glypteros looked milder.

“Do I know Dom Gil? Waal, yes, I ought
to. In his name Carver? Was]; Grabador’s
Spanish for Carver, that’s certain. ’

“ And where is Dom Gil now l” asked Clarence,
anxiously.

Mr. Gl teros laughed again.

“Dom il’s a mighty uncertain man to lo-
cate. He might be anywhere from this room
to Gibraltar by this time. ”

“ Then, sir, please tell me, did you ever know
one Gilbert Carver in America I”

“Gil Carver? Waal, rather. He was a good-
for-nothing, shiftless lunatic when he left Bos-
ton, he was.”

“And do you know what became of him, sir?
You don’t know how anxious I am to find out.
My poor mother has never ceased to pray for
him ever since he left home.”

“ Hum h !” grunted Glypteros, and he turned
awn to ook out to sea. ‘ She might be better
anilppyed than praying for such a loafer as

Clarence colored high, and laid his hand on
the other’s shoulder.

“ Look here Mr. Gly teros,” he said, sharply:
“you rebuked me just y for impertinent ques-
tions just now, but please to remember that my
mother’s brother is not to be called a loafer to
in face. I expect an apology sir.”

mething or other seem to tickle Mr.
Glypteros mightily, for he laughed inapecu-
liar silent manner as he answered:

“ Geerewaaleml Do you mean you’d call me
out if I didn’t?” _ .

“ I certain] should, sir,” cried Hart, impa-
tiently. “I on’t wish to make a disturbance
before Mr. Papadoulos, but I'll not hear my

runcle called a loafer by any man. It’s a
lsehood, sir.”

Mr. Papadoulos, who had been busy at the
table over his pa rs, here put in a word.

“Gentlee, gent ee, sare. Monsieur Glypteros
and l are old men and must have our say. ’

“ Old or young, no man shall call my uncle a
loafer before me,” retorted Clarence, firmly.
“This gentleman shall apologize or else—"

Pzaedoulos rose. .

“ ntlee. sare. Pardon. Whatis de trouble?
Ilia-sigm- Glypteros ’ave insult you? Impos-
e: e

“ He called my uncle a loafer.”

“ A loafairi—vat is dat?”

“It means an idle, good-for-nothing vaga-
bond.”

“Loafair? But is Americano, I suppose-
Monsieur Glypteros, I am 8 rise you should
insult dis gentleman, friend 0 the Duke of Diri-
mantina. Dis gentleman, you call him loafair?”

“ No, no,” said Clarence. beginning to feel a
little ashamed of his heroics. “ Not me; it was
In uncle.”

‘ Your uncle, sarel Vat uncle?"

“One whom I suspect to be the some with
Dom on Gabrador, retorted the American,
unpatient at the questions. “Gilbert Carver.
He said he was a loaferpand by heavens he
shall apologize or fight for it.”

Here Mr. Glypterds, who had been silent
while Papadoulos took up the parable, broke in

his usual drawl: .

‘ Waal, in that case, it’s so much easier to lie

toflghtthatltakeitallheck, cunnsl. Gil

I languor

..

 

" The Dukeof‘ Diamonds.

19

 

Carver’s a real gentleman. Is that enough?
Shake hands on it.”

Hart could not refuse, and held out his hand a
little reluctantly, when Mr. Glypteros seized it
and ave it a pressure under which the bOnes
cracfied, while Clarence felt the most acute
pain, which he could not show for very shame
after his late threats.

Mr. Glypteros continued to shake his hand
with the (gripe of a giant, repeating:

“Gil arver’s a gentleman by Hoke , and
he’s got a gentleman for a nephew. Stic a pin
in that. And you was goin’ to fight me about
Gill Waal, waal, if that wasn’t real spunky.
Why, sonny you wouldn’t be only a babby in
my hands, but all the same, I gloryin your
spunk. I do, by J iminv I”

When he drOpped Hart’s hand at last the
mug man felt that Mr. Glypteros had not

sted idly. He felt for a moment as helpless
as if he had been reallya baby, his hand ut—
terly unable to perform its oflice till he had
smoothed it out and allowed it to rest.

Mr. Papadoulos, affecting to notice nothing
of his embarrassment, now called him to the
table and began to read him a list of instruc-
tions from the papers before him.

“You are to sail to Cyprus in the barque
Euphrosyne, which sails to-morrow. She car-
riesa cargo to Larnaca. There you will meet
the dukc’s yacht in all likelihood. If she be not
there you will cross the island and take ship at
the rt of Nikosia, where you will find the
duke s tender, Ill Djemel, which will carry you
to Mela tron. You are to t while on the
way to earn as much of the male as you
can, for the duke wishes his secretary to be ac-
complished. Dat is all, sare, except de funds.
I am direck to pay you one thousand Liras
Turk on account or salary and expense. Here
is de sum in de queenee Ingles.”

And old Papadoulos handed him a little roll
of gold-pieces which represented to Clarence a
whole year’s salary on the scale of U. S. navy

WY-

“Now monsieur,” continued the old mer-
chant, “I ’ave only to wish you a good soyage
and invite youto come to dinner at my house
this evenin . You vill lodge of course at de
Mehemet A i Hotel. I vill send my carriage for
you. Au revoir.”

And he bowed Clarence out of the office, Mr.
Gly pteros giving him a cool nod as he went.

 

CHAPTER XXVIII
INVALIDS.

THAT afternoon was spent by the American
in strolling about Alexandria, seeing whatever
was to be seen and much interested in the mot-
le crowd which hurries toand fro in this city
0 the border land between East and West.

He had arrived, himself, by the night train
from Cairo, and had been wandering aimlessly
about the city till near noon, when the distant
shriek of the locomotive warned him that
another train was coming in at the station, and
be determined to go and see the passengers get
out, with the longing to find a familiar face
which comes over one in a strange city.

When he reached the station the great herd
of passengers had _mostly dispersed, and only a
few of the later birds were still coming slowly
out.

Among these he noticed a group who seemed
to be supporting an invalid, a tall man, who
walked very slowl along, resting his only arm
round the neck 9 astout fellow in the Egyp-
tian uniform, while the other sleeve of his coat
was looped up empty on his breast.

All of Hart’_s professional sympathy was
aroused at the sight, for be judged that the arm
had been but recently amputated from the pale-
ness of the sufferer.

He made his way toward the in ured man
and soon recognized Helen Lawtons brother,
his face unsborn and bag d, all his old
haughty strut goneifla gene air of gloom and
mg m.

Vi hile he hesitated whether to ofier his ser-
vices or not (for Owen looked as if he needed
some help) he saw Sir Lumley come hurrying
back through the crowd, and heard him say:

“There. Owen. I’ve put the girls in the car-
rings for the hotel. They’ve not seen you yet.
Now I’ll help you.” I . .

“ I’m afraid I’m gomg to taunt, sir,” here re-
marked Owen, in a very low voice, and Hart
hesitated no more.

He had an old physician’s habit of carrying
restoratives with gm, atnd $11119 htastily ran to
Owensa 'gina use an. Olly:

“Lét r1517;n come to him, Sir Lumley. I’m a
doctor.”

The poor father turned round with tears in his

eyes, and without recognizing him, for he had ‘

only seen him once in a dark room.
‘ Thank you, sir, thank you. He’s not fit to
be moved, but we'had to come.”

Then Hart hastily poured out a little brandy
which he made the wounded man drink and help-
ed him into a W Which took them to the

hotel.
All the time they were ridin Owen Lawton
layback with “8078010me

u. . \.;... .,..I

saw that he had not reco ’ d him. The dif-
ference of dress (for he ad worn the yacht’s
uniform when last the met and now he was all
in regular Frankish w to) served as a disguise;
and even when he gave his name neither gentle-
man seemed to associate it with the Duke of
Diamantina, for the baronet began to tell him
the stor of the duel with much bitterness
against is 0 Brazilian.

Owen was too weak to say much, but once
he put up his hand and whispered:

‘ Hush, sir; it was all fair. IVs must keep
the secret.”

Hart could not help a certain feelin of ad-
miration for this you man who bore is mis-
fortune so bravely, an when they reached the
hotel he insisted on seeing to his comfort, dress-
ing the arm himself, and finding that the care-
less soldier-nurse had ca his patient much
discomfort by an open place into which the
dust had got.

As soon as the r captain was made com-
fortable Clarence eft the room and hastened to
his own todress for Mr. Papadoulos’s dinner ao-
cordin teengagement, and as soon as he had
do his regulation suit of torture (in that
climate) went out on the broad piazza of the
hotel to watch the bay and enjoy the sea
th’ dgoed 1th l'kh'

eouna many pe ereie 1m-
self, and almost the flrstplgg stumbled on were
Sir Lumley Lawton, the Hon. Lanna and
Helen enjloijnfi the same cool view.

“ Why . art where have you been, and
how is that dear, dear duke and our darling
princess?" asked the Hon. Inrelia, with her
usual kittenish impulsiveness.

Helen gave a nervous start as she saw him
and turned scarlet for an instant, then as pale
as death, while she looked steadily out into the
bay, biting the to of her fan in a manner in-
dicating some em ment.

As for Sir Lumley he was so much surprised

at he ejaculated:

“ Why, blem me, Lorelia, do you know the
doctor!’

“The doctor! Well, es, I believe he is a
doctor. but to me he’s a we s Mr. Hart, who
saved Helen and me from t e clutches of the
an ocean when the Benares went down."

‘ hat, what?”

Sir Lumley began to stammer, while Hart re—
plied in his calmest tones:

“The ladies think too much of a trifle Sir
Lumley. My Boyton suit saved us all from’
drowning, but it was no use st the Arabs.
For that we must all thank t e Duke of Dia-
mantina and his guns. ”

“And how is that dear duke?” again asked
Lorelia, while Sir Lumley sat drumming on the
arm of his chair and Helen looked out to sea as
steadily as before.

‘ “I could not say madam. The duke left
Cairo yesterday an I may not see him for

- months.”

I “What! have you left him 1” suddenly asked

L Helen’s voice, in a we that showed she was not

by any means an in ' erent listener.

“No, Miss Lawton, I sail to join him at Mela-
petros to-morrow.”

“ And where’s Melapetros?” asked she, in the
same abrupt way.

“To tell the truth, I don’t know ” the Ameri-
can answered, with a smile. “I am in the
hands of others who will take me there. I sup-
pose it’s somewhere in Greece.”

“Ah, then we shall see him again,” cried
Lorelia, delightedly. “ We’re going home by
wa of Athens you know and surely the duke

be at Athens. ”

“ Well, Miss Lawton, I see a carriage comi
for me, and as I have an engagement to dine

will say au revoir.”

And Clarence backed out into the
and. was mg down-stairs, when be m:
Lumley’s and, and lo! the baronet had follow-
ed him quietly, and now whispered:

“I’ve told my daughter but my sister must
not know of Owen’s wound. Will you keep the
secret?”

“ Certainly, Sir Lumley.”

“ You are connected with the Duke of Dia-
mantina, sir?”

“ I am hissecretary, sir.”

“You know who he is, air?”

“I know that he is a gentleman of noble
character, Sir Lumley.”

The baronet scowled at him.

“ Curse his noble character! He has maimed
my son for life, and I’ll get even_with him for
it. Tell him that when you see him.”

I Clarénce stared at his compamon in haughty
“11131 - . .
I “ I'll give him the warning, if not the mes-
as e, Sir Lumley. Good-day."
e baronot looked down the stairs after him
ad and hiaieeth.

“ use him!" he muttered. “They all like

 against me. How shall I kill

He remained brooding over the means of
clearing Diamantina from his path till it was
time to go back to the piazza, where he , -
ed‘his sister by his gloom sc "nch that she pro.
nounced him a “ pyold M."

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The Duke of Diamonds.

20

 

 

 

2mg.an 1
’CHAPTER XXIX.\
"FATAL CURIOSITY.

A TEme had been dispatched from Alex-
andria ordering the Snapper to come there and
receive her captain as soon as she got through
the canal, and Owen Lawton began to feel
easier in his mind, now that the prospect of pro—
fessional disgrace was averted.

It was agreed that inasmuch as it would be
im ible to kee the matter forever from Lo-
relia, she was to told a story about a burst—
ing gun and the amputation of her nephew’s
arm; for somehow Sir Lumley still shrunk
from letting any one know the true secret of

,the Duke of Diamantina’s enmity toward his

family. He was doomed to keep a smiling face
toward that rson before the world, knowing
in his heart t at his secret was no secret to at
least two people besides Diamantina and the
princess; namely, O’Shea and the American.

He had not seen O’Shea after their short
meeting in Cairo, but the very next day after
Sir Lumley’s arrival in Alexandria, he came
across the jolly Captain of Control, parading
the docks in a bustling and absorbed fash-
ion.

He could not avoid noticing him, for it was
his torture to be compelled to give outward
civili: to those he knew to be his secret foes.
Somet ing im lled him now to 0 up to O’Shea
in the midsto the street, and he d out his hand,

saying:

‘ O Shea, have you forgotten that we are at
least countrymen! ’

The honest Irishman looked a little confused,
for the question hit him in a Weak place.

“ I hope not, Sir Lumley,” he answered, try-
ing to be stifl’.

“ And yet you’re joinin my enemies to
blacken m character,” sai the baronet, bit-
terly. “ on were a sergeant when I first saw

on, in a cor s where no man ever yet rose
mm the ran 5; and I got you a commission
and helped you along. You’ve no cause to turn
a ainst me, O’Shea, at least.”

6 captain was so much taken aback that he
could not answer a word, and Sir Lumley con-
tinued:

“Are you hunting up something else to put
in the papers about me ”

“ No, by the powers, no, Sir Lumley. I’m
only looking for a vessel to go to Cyprus in.
I’ve orders from the department to go there
and make a report on the best station for
troops.”

Sir Lumley was unafl’ectedly 
C “ For troops! What troops? e don’t own

y rus.

‘ Sure, don’t ye know Lord Beaconsfield’s
made a treaty With the Porto, and that seven
thousand troogs are coming from India to
Malta i” asked ’Shea.

Then Sir Lumley remembered how he had
heard of this curious stroke of the Israelite pre-
mier’s policy.

“Yes, but what of Cy rus?” he asked.

“ As soon as they get hrough in Malta, and
the Roosians come near to Constantinople, our
blacks go to Cyprus. Mum’s the word, Sir
Lumley. I’m waitin for a Yankee skipper to
take me there, now. h, here he comes, bedad.”

Sir Lumley saw approachinglghem a tall, thin,
yellow personage, in a shamb ' g nautical suit
of blue serge, and asked:

“ Who is this Yankee, and where is he going?”

“ His name’s Carver, and he commands a ship

oing on a roving trip in the Egean, ending at
thens.”

“ Then, byJove, he’s my man,” said Sir Lum-
ley to himself, as he watched the tall Yankee
chaffering with O’Shea, and wondered to him-
self where he had seen his face.

The ca tain’s business was soon settled, and
he tame to Sir Lumley.

“It’s all right Sir Lumley. We sail to—ni ht.
Bedad, I wis Miss Helen was goin’ along. t’ll
be a pleasant trip for her, if she does.”

“Perhaps we may,” assented the baronet.

“ Have you any more room in your cabin,
Mr. ——ah—I haven’t the pleasure.”

“ Carver, sir, Capting Carver air my handle,”
answered the sailor, With a strong nasal accent.
“ Room in the cabin? How many air there?”

“Three of us—two ladies.”

“ Then I’m jest the critter kin do it, cunne ”
was the eager reply. " Do you want to go
Athens, quietly?”

“ Yes.’

Sir Lumley gave a slight shudder. He wanted
to 1030 himself for a little while, till that horri-
ble newspaper story died out. He couldn’t bear
to think 0 going! on a P. & O. steamer, now,
where every one new him, and would be pest-

,erjng him with all sorts of uestions.

Ca tain Carver clapped h on the shoulder
in a amiliar way.

“Say no more; the cabin air youm, if you
like to pay the price, a hundred dollars a head.
We’ll be some time on the VW’ge’ cunnel’ but
yeudon’t kegr for that, I s’pose '

, 0.
“And ye’ll be as uiet as the grave, all the
time! Kin ye talk reek, cunnel?”
“ I used to read it at sch00 ,” answered the
Monet, shortly.

“ Waal, e’ll heva chance to brush it up along
of these sai ors, who speaks it naterally. What
name might I call you by cunnel?”

“Lumley,” answered the baronet, his face
flushing' “ Colonel Lumley.”

“Waal, Colonel Lumley, you jest step into
the bank with me, and pay your passage money,
and I’ll send up the boys for your traps, to
oust. Where do (you hang out?”

Sir Lumley to] him, and went with him to
the bank, where he paid out, with eat satis-
faction, his assage money, after w ich be de-
parted with ’Shea to the hotel, where he found
Lieutenant Sloman who had come, full of sym-
pathy for his unluc ycommander, with a party
of sailors to take him back to the Snapper,
which was already in the oiling, waiting.

The parting between father and son and
the rest of the family was painful and affect-
ing. Even aunt Lorelia forgot her selfishness
so far as to pity and condole with poor Owen,
as the sailors took him of! on a. litter to the port;
and Helen wept bitterly, rha s the more so
because Clarence Hart, w 0 ha been so kind
to her brother the day before, had entirely dis-
ap red, no one knew whither.

Hgahad kept the duke’s counsel so well that
they did not even know in whose hands he had
put himself, save that he was going to some
place called Melapetros. -

After Owen’s departure, Helen was quite
willing to pack up and depart herself; and
neither of t e ladies had any objection to Sir
Lumley’s plan of a quiet sail among the Greeks
of the IEgean. There was something mysteri-
ous in the air, Helen could not tell what, that
gave her a va e feeling of uneasiness while
they stayed in g t.

She was quiet an observant, and had noticed
that the people at the table d’hote stared at

them eve time her eyes were away, and then
looked ' ty and ashamed of themselves when
detecte .

She had noticed that her father kept a strict
watch over all the newspapers, and that she
had not seen one since she had been in Cairo.

Like a true woman, she was not to be mysti—
fied for long in vain: and, waiting till she found
her chance, she rung the bell of the hotel par-
lor when her aunt and father were both away,
and feed the waiter handsomely to bring her
the Cairo papers for the last three days.

The boy a smart Maltese, not caring to diso-
blige a lady who paid so handsome] , brought
her a small pile of Alexandria and airene pa-
pers, on the to of which. in conspicuous ca i—
tals, she saw t o Bord du Nil extra, with t 9
account of the duel, alight and frivolous jest,
as she thought it, on the maimmg and almost
death of her onl brother.

Pale with in ignation she read it through,
and then turned to the Trench rt, where she
came on that leader which had riven Sir Lum-
ley out of Cairo. As she slowly read it half-
aloud, her face grew paler and paler, and then
she rose up and threw down the paper on the
floor, tramphng on it and muttering with white

1 s:
I" Oh, the cowards! To stab a gentleman in
his sorrow like thatl”

But there was something fascinating in that
horrible journal after all. She took it u again
and found it referred to a former artic e; and
10! there was the Times clip ing in the very
next number, which told her t 9 true nature of
the accusation against her father.

With a choking sob the r girl clutched the
two papers up and hurri away to the silence
of her own apartment, where she wept bitter
tears of shame and anger at her sudden degra-
dation.

Now she understood the loom of her father
since they were at Shephe ’3; his sudden flight
from Cairo, and their present tri to sea.

“Oh, Father of Mercy 1” sob Helen, “can
it be true? My father a—”

She could not say what she meant.

The crime of which he was accused was one
not known to the law, that does injustice be-
tween Frank and Hindoo; but it was one so
mean and base, so degradm to all pretensions
of gentlemanly character, t t she oaned in
very bitterness of anguish as she t ought of
't

1 .
A traitor who betrayed a noble rince to
death; a thief who robbed a corpse; a ypocrite
who had allowed his own sister to become the
byword of all Cairo for Wearing the watch he
had stolen and lied about!
“ Oh, it can’t! it can’t! It shall not be true!”
groaned poor Helen to herself; and then she
card the quick imperative knock of her father
at her door.
“ Nelly, my child, quick, are you ready? Th9
porters are here for the baggage.”
She opened the door and came out with the
pa rs in her hands.
‘ Is that true f” was all she said, her blue
eyes gleaming out of a wan white face at him.
Sir Lumley staggered back.
“ My G I” he cried. “ How did you get
those papers?”

“18 it true 7” she repeated; and then, as he

 

paled in silence she said, in a straw e, hard
voiclefi.’ “It is. I see it in your face. od help
US a

\

 

CHAPTER XXX.
mono THE sronon-nsnnns.

THERE is no part of the world perha where
the combination of natural beauty an roman-
tic association is so striking as in a. cruise among
the islands of the Greek Archipelago. When
the voyage is taken in a vessel manned by
Greek sailors, the perfection of lazy enjoyment
is reached, for the modern Greeks are as full of
wild legends as their fathers of old, and flit
from coast to coast in the same childlike
fashion, with im licit faith in the existence of

'ants and canni s on every shore that is un-

own to them.

The Lawton family, after their late experi-
ence in Egypt, found the repose on board the
good shi Aphrodite very pleasant.

To He en es ially, whose pride had been
sorel lacerate , it was a blessed relief. Aunt
Lore 'a found it a bore; but aunt Lorelia did
not know all, as her niece did.

To Sir Lumley it seemed as if he had escaped
from the bad consequences of his former life,
and he was content to loiter on, every day tak-
ing him~ further away from the humiliating
memories of public scorn at Cairo.

Here on the seas th; were unknown, save as
the “ Lumley family;’ and the Yankee skipper,
with his Greek creW, t1 cated them with rfect
res t, asking no qucstions; while aptain
0’ hea was unusually Ci urteous, even for him.

Thus they loitered about the coast of Cyprus,
moving from port to post on all sorts of er-
rands, the skipper seeming to have made a sort
of general express agency cf his ship, delivering
his cargo in small garcels, til] at last they
squared away from prus for Crete, and ran
down into the midst o a sponge-fishery.

Here, Helen ex ressing a wish to see the ro-
ceedings of the ivers, the skipper told t em
they could take the ship’s shore-boat with a pair
of cars when they liked. Captain O’Shea pro-
posing that he and Sir Lumley should row, so
as to get rid of the Greek sailors. who could not
understand a word of En lish, the little party
of four left the Aphro ite, which at once
squared her main-yard and stood oil.’ from the

coast.

At first the hardly noticed this, thinking she
would come ack in a short time; but as the
distance between them grew greater and great—
er, and no symptoms of return became visible,
aunt Lorelia began to be frightened.

“ My gracious, Lumley l” she cried,
“ those p rates—I’m sure they must be pirates—
are leaving us. We shall all be murdered.”

“0h, nonsense, Lora ” answered Sir Lumle ,
though himself a litt e uneasy; “ they only
want to give us a chance to enjoy ourselves
among the sponge-fishers. Look at that fellow
just going to dive. Isn’t he a model for a sculp-
tor? Come, O’Shea, pull on.”

And into the midst of the sponge-divers they
rowed, where they were received with a shower
of polite greetin in Greek of which they only
un erstood “Ka 'mi’v'a” (‘zGood-day”).

They were so much interested in watching
the divers that they forgot all about the ship
till they heard the creaking of blocks and spars
near bfv and, looking up, saw a large, brown-
sailed elucca gliding in amen the sponge-fish—
ers, and heading strai ht for t eir Own craft.

Ima inin that she ad come to collect loads
from t 6 0t er boats they paid no attention to
her beyond noticing the p cturesqueness of her
appearance, till they ware surprised and alarm-
e to find her bumping up against them as if
she meant to run them down.

The next moment, a. bl , black-mustached
fellow, with a red jacket, b no leggings, white
kilt, sash full of istols. and a general des-

perado look about in caught up the Bainter ,

of their boat with a boat-hook,coolly 11 ed the
rope on board and hauled it taut ere ey could
recover from their first surprise.

“ What the devil are you doing there?” about
ed Sir Lumley, as soon as he could recover hii
senses. “ Let go that painter, you Greek rui-
flan on 1”

Thg only repl ofthe Greek was:

“ Kaliméra, me ” (Good-day, sin) deliVer.
ed in a mocking-kind of manner, as he secured
the end of the painter to a belaying-pin; and
then the telucca glided away through the midst
of the sponge-fishers, wbp laughed and jabbered
Greek to each other, as if the whole thing were
a ood joke. as the foreigners were towed away.

git LumIGY’S 111$ “891‘ had given way to a
sensation of uneasiness; Lorelia was screaming,
Helen pale With (ear; while Captain O’Shea was
fumbling in vain 1n the pockets of his coat, lying
on the seat. for afpistol, which he remembered
too late he had le t behind him,

And in the meantime the felucca swept on,
towing the boat through the water. bumpin
against her, an unresisting captive, till they be
goeared the sponge-divers and were standing out

see.

“What do you sappose they want, O’Shea?”
asked Sir Lumley. now thoroughly alarmed. '

“ Divil a one 0 me knows,” was the flustered
reply; for O’Shea began to feel decidedly un-
comfortable. “Maybe we’Ve poached on some
of their sponge preserves.” .

“ But where’s the Aphrodite?” asked the hero.
net, peering round lmn and seeing nothing in

 

 

 

i

 

 

mu-.. 1,  _

 

 

 

 
 

 

' 9
s

The Duke of Diamonds.

21

 

 

Bight. “ O‘Shea, I begin to be afraid that we‘re in
h ,7

had .

“ Didn’t I tell you so, Lumley i" cried Lorelia, sob-
bing. “I warned you not to trust yourself among
these people; and here you are, with nothing to
make us more wretched except having our throats

All this time, since the first pirate had looked over-
board, they had seen nothing of the felucca’s crew.
She must have had a steersman and hands, but the
tall bulwarks hid them from View. ‘

Presently, finding themselves left entirely alone in
the boat, the courage of all an to revive; and
O’Sliea progosed in a whisper that he should cut the

ainter, an that the shonld try to ull away. Sir

umle assented, an made readyt e.0ars to put
out, w ile O’Shea opened his pocket-kmfe.

But no sooner did the blade come near them ,
than in a trice adozen heads were thrust over he
bulwar while a torrent of Greek imprecations
convinc them that they were watched.

O’Shea pretended not to understand, and contin-
ued saw away at the rope, when, “flash ! bang I”
Went a is and a bullet whizzed close to his head
and sp he into the sea beside him, causin him
todrop hiswork in a hurry. That sort of reek
makes itself quickly understood.

But the attempt seemed to have satisfied their
captors that some new plan was necessary, for the
crowded to the side of the felucca and an to
them by words and signs to come on .

Again their Greek made itself comprehended in
short order, for when Sir Lumley shook his head
and called out, “No! Nol“ one of the mustached
and kilted mariners deliberately pulled out ahuge
Turkish pistol, with a bore about an inch in diameter,
and blazed away into the bottom of the boat, close
{3‘ Sir Lumleyl‘fi {fictitarting such a leak that the

at be an to a urry.

Aftergthat little lesson in modern Greek there was
no more hesitation, aunt Lorelia being one of the
first to scramble up the side of the felucca, so that
they were soon on board a large, dirty Mediterranean
sponge-vessel, as it seemed to be, with greasy and
sandy decks, a strong smell of stale fish and oil, while
the most ferocious ot of cutthroats in the shape of
a crew crowded curiousl round them.

Eve man was arm to the teeth, with knives
and is stuck in silk sashes; and they all
look asif they would use them in a moment, as
indeed they would. They were as handsome a lot
of villains, too, as ever were seen, tall and slender"i
with pure classical profiles and long black curls an
mustaches. ‘

Aunt Lorelia, with all her terror couldnt help
thinking of Byron’s Conrad and other filcturesque
scamps, and fancying herself a new edora, (of
urbcertain e.)

nce on .
perfect courtesy. The sailors saluted them With;

“Kaliméra, koerie,” to the men, “ Kalimera
winds," to the ladies: which, as they already knew,
was the common saiutatlon.

Then they were motioned. to the stern of the
felucca, where they were prov1ded with seats on a
bench; and the vessel 8311an away her broad
sails to the south wind, an left the shores of Crete
behind, stretching away toward the distant coast of
Greece itself barely visible on the northern horizon
after the shores of Crete had sunk beneath the
waves.

re were the going ‘and what were these
w[nigh-fishers doing): in the role of pirates? None of
than could tellzkbut an uneasyfsefllse of 
too ion 0 as
We Islam on her course.
CHAPTER XXXI.
In. socru'rss.

Tn native horse of the brigand, pure and simple,
has been found in Greece for a t‘Sood many years.
The Bandits of the Abruzzi in I “y, and the road-

ents of Australia and early on ornia, are much
1‘ 0 them in general cwwmua; i'iutl thgy havg
not et attained the pe system 0 un er an
tori-grism which marks the Greek brgand in his

ti mountains.
“Alizhe efforts of the Gregglfiovernment to-dayrgei:

 

in out this iar feature of _

$333531;  proba ly never be done itill the

count is as thickly pogmlated as land.
The rigands live in t e mountains, use Greek
mountainsGarekneag'llye inaccessible to anything but

and ree ro rs.
go'f‘itlgy kee near the Turkish frontier, so_ that, it
the Greek Froops chase them, they can quickly es-
cape into neutral territoz. If the‘Turks take of-
fense at their pranks on oslem s01] then they are
back in Greece and have become ardent patriots in
few hours.

‘ vAeilrythe villagers know them; fear them hide them;
its for them; pay blackmail to them; and share their
plunder whenever the bandits come into houses for

a week’s debauch after a good haul. _
Such are the Greek brigands to-day. Fifth
the varied their little amusements on d by
Iifighticalexpeditions at sea, till screw steamers and
ea us rendered that sort of thing too dan r-
0118- eir present iracies are therefore confin to
the persons of bro r Greeks of other pmvinces,
1‘ deVill of Syrian fruit merchants and such like.
he? “Old t0 rs, whose governments have
steamship gm
UP in t 0 "Most astnesess of the Moreen moun-
tains lived 10" 3 8°04 manygears a ve icturesque
and remarksbl wicked 01 n 0 name of
KeerieSokrah 6,0!“ as we mud “um”. 30.

crates.

Mr. Socrates. in the Spring of 1877, rejoiced in a
very venerable White beard. which gave him the ap-
pearance of his dist ed namesake of old, but
which did not prevent him from w the most dar-
Inc. the riches and the most su ul brigand of
greeceEdmsinge till): days of Hedi! Stavros, madefamoul

y un A ut.

Koeric Sokrahtié was dressed in the usual gor-
Egons style of Greek bflsunds. mm of his fortune
m‘“,‘i£h‘;“mp°”°oi°’ii°$3§et‘&t”“im‘%ig .h-

0 or
359......“ m...“ ihmiihsswtm; a";
o
"a, 0 regular troo

'Greoceex tamongthe pasndhe
‘hew up

 Sonatas, (as we will all

i

however, they were treated with ’

 

him for the sake of our readers,) was looking out
over the beautiful norama below; the be. of
Egina; Athens; the iraaus' the thousand islan s of
the blue Eggan sea; the olive-clad hills of Atti
and the whi ruins of old tern les; when he hea
tille cry"i of an owl in broad day ht, and smiled, well
ease .

p It was the signal that there were travelers coming
that we .and that the sentries of the band h
eagle-d t em. ‘

he thrifty old gentleman instantly drop be-

hind a rock on which he had been 168.12%, ook off

his gold-embroidered , stuck his h into the
midst of a tuft of heat er among the rocks, and
peered out into the pass below.

Be and his band had a way of taking toll of all
Ego le passing on the mountain road from Athens to
r ey, through the renowned defile of Thermopylaa.
Presently he saw the leaders of a lar e party of
men coming up the rugged road. At the end was a
dark, handsome gentleman, on a mare of wonderful
beauty, closely allowed by a lady in a dark blue
habit, equalLv well mounted and Mr. Socrates
grinned with delight, as he said to himself:
“ These are English chickens; they will bear a
good deal of plucking."
After the lady and gentleman came a. long string
of k-mules, each guarded by a couple of men
on oot, all of whom were a Greek uniform of some

sort.

Old Socrates counted forty men and began to
doubt whether he could dispose of t em so easily as
he had at first tho ht, when his attention was at-
tracted by a noise a ve his head.

Turning quickly, for brlgands are alwa nervous
about things ab0ve them, he beheld the right bar-
rel of a carbine leveled at him, the noise being
caused by the cocking of the piece.

To see a gun and to fight back, were with Mr. Soc-
rates but one idea, and out came one of his famous
revolvers in a minute. when he was arrested bya
voice shouti down to him:

“The bill‘s ull of them. Don’t firel”

He recognized the voice of his own lieutenant; and
a momen later out came band, twenty-three
in number, all told, looking chop-fallen. They
seemed to have been for once completely entrap-

Mr. Socrates saw gun-barrels on the top of every
rock above him, saw the travelers in front of him
calmly’haltin , and finally concluded that the best
thing e coul do was to come boldly out and claim
to be a bio peasant.

There ore Mr. Socrates put up his pistol; pulled
out his sash as broad as he couidgt it, to cover
his arsenal; then walked out as mee y as any nice
aid gentleman taking a stroll, and remarked, afi'a~

1
:Y‘ Kaliméra, keerie ; Kaliméra, winie " (Good-day,
sir‘ good-day, ma‘am).

The lady and gentleman in front smiled at him,
and the entleman said, in verg good Romaic:

“ Good-day Mr. Socrates: aln vegr happy to
meet you, a last. I wish you to do a lit e favor, for
which I will pa you liberally.“

Mr. Socrates wed to the ground.
“ I am the lowest slave of your v distinguished
excellency. I took you for a cap of the army,

come to take me into Athens.”

The gentleman smiled again.

“ Oh, no. i have too much sympath with every-
thing free to wish to put even a t ger in a cage.

are only my servants. Please to show me
where on live." '

Mr. rates hesitated. The stranger divined the
cause and went on in the same gentle wa .

“ You do not know who I am. I will tell you.
Have an ever heard of the Duke of Diamantina?"

Mr. Socrates pulled his in a meditative way.
d " No, keerie, if your excellency is pleased to par-

on me.’

“ The Turks call me the Lord of all Jewels. I see
that you have a very handsome yataghan there.
Let me excha e this for it.”

And he drew rom under his coat a small revolver,
barrel and cylinder hes gilt, while the butt posi-
tively blazed with diamon set in rough silver.

Keerle Sokrahflé uttered a cry of rapture and ex-
changed weapons in a t . He was an old

person of uncOmmon u ent.

“ Your excellency worth to be the King of
Greece,” he protested, “ and only to give his
orders for me to obey them."

“ Then show me where you live,” smiled Diaman-
tina, and the venerable professor of pillage obeyed.

He had not very far to o.

The roads in that vicini y were so little frequented
that Mr. Socrates and his friends had no need to

hide their ordinal; habitations.

He conducted t e duke u a narrow bridle-path to
a little plateau on the top 0 a hill, which command-
ed an extensive view 0 the country round, where
was set up a rude lean-to of pol thatched with
straw, before which the embers of a showed the
kitchen of the band, such as it was.

The Duke of Diamantina looked round him, and
observed quietly:

“ This is not our stronghold. Where is that?"

" Far from ere,” answe Mr. Socrates, eva-
sive _ “We have more than one."

H ell," replied the duke, “in that case this must
do for awhile. I wish to hold a little private talk
with, you. Order  your hand back out of hear-

‘“ic'ee ’ yum
rie Sokrahtié obeyed much in and the
attendants all retired to ’a distance, frgkl whence
they observed the duke and the lady ta] earnest-
]y with the old robber-chief for nearly an hour.
Atailgheéand of that time Mr. Socrates was heard to
as ou :
be}; Your excellency shall be satisfied. On my head
t. V !

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
IN A (81?“on
as mm was oomed to rience a

many mystitications before he as?” eithegotg:
duke or Dom Gil. The Euphrosyne, on which he
embarked for Cyprus was one of Mr. Papodoulos‘s
vessels, and she proved to be a slow sailor without
asi lemanonboardwho understood but
G and Hartfoundhehadplentyottimeto
learn 6 new language.

Wham thewindwu favor-ablaths la-

 

phrosyne sailed toward Larnaca, but whenever it
shifted she did not attempt to hold her course, but
let it carry her away where it would.

Thus it was three weeks from the time he left
Alexandria before he reached Cyprus, which is on]
three da 's' sailing, and as he had exHec ,
found that the duke’s yamht had gone. Fo owing
out his instructions, he nded and crossed the islan
to Nikosia, on the northern shore, where he expect»
ed to find “Al Djemmel " (The Camel) the duke’s
provision ship. But no ship was there; nothing but
a few feluccas and brigantines loading with co per
for Stamboul, and one little Greek craft with a alf-
deck and sin le mast, whose ski m hear-in of his
dilemma, tol him the Djemme sailed or Ath-
ens, and ofi'ered to take him there.

Be ' g to feel an as well as puzzled at the
way which he was be  he accepted the
ofier, determined, in case e did not find his eccen-
tric employer at Athens, to throw up the Job and
write home to his mother, tellin her how he had
found and lost the long sought G' rt Carver.

The Greek Ware (for such is the name of that
Iscortlof craft) prgved a fasterssailer “3211 the
11 ms e an soon 'm t myrna, eppo
and) all the1 other towns on the coped-st of Asia Minor,
touching at Crete and passing Ne 0 nt, till one
fine day the skipper pointed out a ine of purple
hills toward the sunset and said to Hart with a

smile:

“ Na to Athena, mm " (There is Athens sir).

And Clarence looked out with a strange leap of
his heart, as he recognized for the first time a as
ter of white dots on the face of the hills which he
knew to be the far-famed capital of old Greece.

This was Athens, and he had seen it at last from
the deck of such a little Greek boat as once might
have carried St. Paul and his fortunes.

Then be scanned the sea all round, and not-iced
that there was quite a crowd of sails in ht, all
Erasing toward the north, and realized that e was

one of the great avenues of Eastern trade.

There were statelg square— ' ged English mer-
chantmen going to tamboul, F nch luggers and
chassemaréas, Spanish, Italian and Greek feluccas
and speronares, all under a cloud of sail, all beauti-
ful and picturesque.

their bows and standing toward the
coast of t e Morea, was a large felucca with three
masts, brown sails and a. general dirt

Hart asked the Greek captain what was this
felucca, for he was beginning to understand Romaic
pretty well by this time, and received for answer:

“ Only a spo fisher, keerie. They‘re always
dirty and most 0 them are full of thieves."

Hart took little more notice of the dirty also
vessel which they were rapidl overhauling, or s e
was a slow sailer, till just as t ey were passing her,
he was amazed to hear his own name pronounced in
a woman’s voice in accents of one imploring help.

it; warm" wgrethce ! hflelllp rust be dreaming

oramoment e oug t em .

The voice was the voice of Helen Lawton, the
woman he loved, and who, as he thought, loved him.

Where did it come from? There was nothing in/
sight but that dirty spo felucai, and on her decks
he could see only a few picture ue rufiians in Greek
costume, with long knives in th sashes.

They were busied in the ordinary tasks of Mediter-
ranean sailors co near land, getting the anchor
ready, coiling away t e superfluous ropes, and did
not seem to notice the speronare.

Presently he heard the voice again, and this time
there was no mistake. ‘

‘; 01a ’ Clarence Bart ! 1hr God’s sake, help
,6 . 99

He stared at the felucca, which was about fifty
{get to leeward, and felt sure the voice came from

ence.

But where was Helen?

He went to the side and peered anxiously at the
felucai, when Helen’s voice cried:

“We are here in the cabin. We are ris—"

The voice abruptly stopped, and soon saw the

reason wh .

One of thye picturesque and ruifianly Greeks on deck
had heard her, and now rushed below, baring his
kW“

nce shouted out in Romaic to the felucca's

peo le:
"l‘fvhom lliav; $01133) the cabin t" in
e men 00 a e speronare surprise and
seemed to notice for the first time that the little
traderhad one of the “Western lords " on board.
Hart’s 1;] hat informed them.

They e a short confused consultation together
in low tones, and then one of them called out:

“ Mind your own aiIairs. Keep out of our way, if
you want a whole skin.”

In a moment Hart’s blood was u . He had seen
so much of the bullying ways of peans in the
East that he felt he must do a little bluster on his
own account.

Therefore he mustered all the Bomaic he knew,
and called out. in a commanding tone:

“ ve up that lady at once, or I‘ll have your ves-
lie’ll'ii "k f th G ks in h,

e spo esman o e ree V0 5 008136
made a gesture of wnmet. mymm: us
“ If you don‘t sheer on ll kill you. 0“ dog~faoe."

Hartcouldhardlyhelasmileattheethet
“binopees” (dog-face) as heard it. This
mariner was ab him in the same words which

Homer uts into 0 mouth of Achill when he
beratosp emnon in the Iliad. 68’

To enforce his 0Wn reply he tinned the belt he
wore under his loose sack-coat and brought his two
revolvers, a present from the duke, to the front.

“ If {on don‘t heave-t0 at once, I'll make a hole in
you," c answered.

The next moment every Greek on the felncca had
outapistolof some sort, and was blazingawayat

him.

But inasmuchasthey were enlarge, old‘fashioned
flint-lock concerns, most of them missed‘fire; and
dithatzwtefitofimissetghim; forit isby'ao mm
easy a man a c ping see. on
marksmenandmarkarebomaup ind down“-

foreabrisk
Naturally was not the man to sinndthls
sort Oley,md out came his two revel.
versinall gioryofivorybuttsandwhitoflat-
'mumumm-«mm
. \ U

" ‘g‘.

  

.-...~. _;. _ 

 

’lj.

22

The Duke of Diamonds.

 

 

whistling into the feluooa, and had the satisfaction
of ng one of his assailants drop, with a ball in

But before he could do more, the captain and
crew of the speronare were hangin on him all
round, 'ng him not to endanger t oir lives and
liberty. e sponge-fishers would have a grudge

ainst the vessel, and would pay it off aftert e kee-

e had gone away.

Clarence felt so an with the radians of the
felucca that for a time e felt as if he would like to
heard her, 8’
all her crew. e saw that their firearms were not
to be relied on, while his own pistols would put a
ball Just where he wanted.

But, while he was still in hesitation as to what to
do, not willing to abandon Helen, and yet hardly
knowin how to make the timid crew of the spore-
nare to low him, the sound of a light s' nal gun in
the offing attracted his attention and ookintg out
past the sponge-boat he saw the white sails 0 Dia-
mantina‘s beautiful felucca acht, trimmed fiat
stretchin out of a crowd 0 other vessels, abou
half a m e to leeward, and running off to the south-

east.

Instantly his mind was made up.

“You see that feluoca. Put me on board of her
and I’ll give you two lime in and ($8) at once," he
said to the timid Greek ca in, who delightedl
obeyed, glad to get out of e scm at any cos .
The speronare shifted her helm an ran down to-
ward the yacht before the wind, while Hart shook
his pistol menacingly back at the felucca, where the
Greek v bonds were hastily trying to reload and
prime their weapons. ,

In twenty minutes thereafter the American was
saluting the Duke of Diamantina on his owp uarter-
deck, and hurriedly telling him Helen’s position, im-
ploring him to rescue her.

 

CHAPTER XXHII.
ran comm.

Tm: Duke of Diamantina listened to the Ameri-
ean’s im oned account of what he had seen and
heard th the calm and smiling dignity which never
left him. The yacht continued to run on to the
south-east, and sails were or and recrossing

ossing
the track all the time, so that it would soon be very 3

diflcult to identify any vessel in the crowd, unless
of very remarkab cadp rance.

When Clarence h nished, the duke asked:

" My dear sir, what do you wish me to do?"

“ To rescue her once more, as ou did before.
Think how easy it will be. There s the pirate or
whatever she is, a slow sailor and here are you in a
clipper. Let us put about and go after those v as.
Oh, duke, can you hesitate?"

“ My ear sir " answered the other. with the same
bland smile, “fwould do much to oblige you; but
are you quite certain you know what you want?"

“ want you to rescue a lady from the power of
pirates,” retorted Clarence, impatientlv.

“ My dear sir, there are no pirates left in these seas
now,’ replied his companion with the same irritat-

m.
‘Butl tell yourgrace I heard the lady calltc me
for help and tell me she was a prisoner in the cabin
:If that felucca,“ cried Hart, getting more and more
in ant.
iamantina leoked at him vely.

“ My dear sir, you have to d me you are in love.
Believe me, it was a dream, a fantasy of the head,
the ‘heart, the any thing. The lady is in no dan-
ger.

to disheartened, Clarence turned away. He

never before met the impassive firmness of the

duke set against his own will, and he felt that a
struggle was useless.

He made a last effort.

“ Then your grace refuses to help this unfortunate
lady by gutting the yacht abouti’

‘ earsir,Iam goingto the island of Negro-
gint meet Dom Gil, about whom hmu were asking

Alexandria. Do you wish to see sir?”

Clarence halted in the uneasy walk he had been
taking across the uarter-deck, and answered in a
constrained tone 0 voice:

“No, duke. i am sorry I came on board. If the
speronare had not gone i would go back in her to
Athens. As it is. :1 s first landee tlouch, I as]: your
gracetosetmeas oreupon. resgnmypos . ’

Diamantina looked at him with steady, glowing
eyes for several seconds ere he answered.

f “ air, if I take you at your word, you will be sorry
or . i

“ Never," retorted Clarence, hotly. “ I know who
you are, and our cause for enmity against the Law-
tons' but I dnot think it would extend to a help-
less lad , who was not born at the time that—”

T1113m gke interrupted him with a slight wave of

the .

“ Monsieur H it is enough," he said. “I ac-
a on as a secretary. Do not force
my guest. If you will descend into
the cabin you will find madame m mother there,
who will endeavor to entertain you t we reach the
island of Negropont."

But Clarence was too much in love and too frantic
at the thought of Helen’s danger to listen to him.
He continued to expostulate:

“ Your was ready to save her on the coast of
Arabia. by not now?‘ he asked. despairing?
Then Diamantina stepped toward im, h face
transformed.

His black eyes glowed like burning coals, his white
teeth shone as his lips parted under the Jett mus
taehe, and his voice sunk to a low, angry w r of
intense passion.

“ Became I choose, air. Is that an answer to you?

Who are that dare to question me I“
Then ence laughed and met his eyes with a
look as fierce as his own.

“ Who am It An American. In in land we are
all kings. Do you understand me, sir I dare speak
to any man who is cruel to a woman. In America
we call one who abuses a a cowardly villain."

.For a moment Hart fancied e duke was about to
spring on him. All the hot blood of his Arym an-
cestors lowed in his face; his lips parted in g .0”
0! tigerfin snarl, and his eyes glared wildly.

lnvoluntarily the American started toward hi u
iftomoethimwithablow, for m fightinginfinct
was roused hi both men.

' \

le—handed, and run a muck through 1:

 

I Then Diamantina suddenly sobered down; the
i frown left his face, and he resumed his usual icy
manner as he said:

“ Sir, I left the lady with her father. I decline to
interfere with her, now that she is in his control.
You will not go into the cabin? Good-da .”

And the duke with a slight and haug ty inclina-
tion of his hen , passed Hart and went down-stairs
into the cabin, leaving the American alone on deck.

Then, for the first time, Clarence began to feel a
great deal of shame and embarrassment at his posi-
tion. He was not a rich man, and had exhausted

most of his savings, since leaving the navy, in hunt- v

ing for that mythical Gilbert Carver he began to
think he would never see.

The sum he had received from Papadoulos, De-
metri & Co. was yet untouched: but he felt that he
wasagensioner on the duke‘s bounty while it ror
maine in his pocket. He paced to and fro for a
few minutes, and then took a sudden determination
to leave the yacht on the first vessel that passed. no

matttr where bound. Hothcaded and in love, his ,
: Greek all the time.

resolution was quickly put in practice.

The (yacht was continually
notice a large fclucca, which be judged from its
rig to be Maltese, coming to meet them and heading
for Athens.

He asked the man at the wheel to steer that way, 3

and the sailor, a slim, swarthy Laschr, obeyed,
githout aword showing either surprise or remon—
rance.

No sooner were the within fair hailing distance ' _
’ of creaking and splashing that told of passing ships

than he called out in talian:

“ Will you take me into Athens for a lira Turco?"
(about 34).

“Si, rig/nor, at!" was the eager answer. and the
felucca came up close alongside. grazing the yacht
as she passi-d when Clarence with the expertness of
an old man-of-war‘s-man, lea into her main rig-
ging and found himself on board the Maltese.

with the princess Mela
hatch, both looking a him wistfully. All the cold-

ness and an er seemed to have vanished from the ‘
face of the uke, while the princess was actually in .
tea

I'B.

Feelin
dertmn’n mic? fdi th i n: dk
jus on t e pen 0 ong— rowng e u e’s
money back on board the yacht.

one who had been, up to that moment, as kind and
generous as only a prince could be.
Thus it was with an air of rather shamefaced re

spect that he took off his hat and waved hislast farc- =

well, pointing to Athens; and the princess smiled
back at him through her tears, and waved her hand-
kerchief, as if in salute.

Then the vessel artcd. the yacht speeding on one
tack, while the ltese went on t e other; and

Hart found himself once more alone in the world, ,
hunting afteradirty s cage-boat among abundred ‘
other craft exactly ali e, to find, if he could, the »
. well. On these rocks, on t

lad of his love.

e turned awayto ins
had so unceremoniousl ntruded, and found her to
be a large Maltese fe ucc in ballast, going to
Athens for a cargo of olive oi and currents.

The skip r was a common is cimen of theigno-
rant but rewd sailor of the editerranean with a
little smattering of education, enough to enable him
to read a hill of ladiii , and a large experience of

t the craft on which he

every coast on the nort iern shores of the sea, from i

Barcelona to Stamboul.

The vessel was a smart sailor, and the houses of
Athens were in sight from her decks within an hour
after he left Diamantina's yacht, so that before sun-

set our hero was treading the quay at the Piraeus, ‘
over in his ‘

and looking up to the Acropolis, casti
mind all sorts of schemes for recovering elen Law-
ton from her captors.

 

CHAPTER XXXIV.
on noun) THE sauces.
I-r is time that we returned to the Lawtons and

O’Shea, whom we left aboard that {liratical-looklng ’

sponge—felucca, and find out how i was that Helen

mans

Crete, the Eu lish
cabin with a ecidc

iarty had been taken down to a
flavor of stale sardines about

it, where the ladies had been locked in while Sir ‘

Lumlcy and O‘Bhea were taken forward and put
down in the hold among the s n .

What became of them nei her Helen nor Lorelia
knew after they'were taken away,
Occupation left was to look out o the little round
windows in the stern of the fclucca over the spark-
linglsea, and long for some English ship to come
wit in hailin distance.

Who were heir captors they knew no more than
at first. They had been offered no violence. were
supplied with plenty of food, such as it was: and no
at empt was made to rob them of any of their valua-

es.
Nevertheless they were kept in strict captivity.
and it was with a feeling of tive ra ture tha
Helen Lawton, lookin out o the win ow in the
afternoon of the secon day, saw the little 3 ronare
under their stern, and recognized on er deck
8 well-known fl re of Clarence Hart, in his white
Egyptian suit am flpuggaree hat.
t was with the rst rapturous instinct of ho that
she screamed out, “ Clarence! Clarencel help "
She saw him start and look earnestly at the feluc-
ca, and felt aunt Lorelle crowding up eagerly b03169
her as she repeated the cry:
" Clarence, Mr
Help us i”
But it was not to be, that time,

She heard abustle on deck and then one of the i

pirates came r

“Shins down the hatch into the cabin,
sweari

away in Greek at a tremendoua rate. flow"

ishing a nife, and making himself so offensive that I

there was no sort of misconception of his meaning
in any language.
1. “ram wit” ‘3°’i‘“ by “1" "i" “mi 3%?
er e , ave a er intend ng to p e '
and instead of tha , pulled the whole of it off, and
flung it into the corner of the cabin.
Poor Miss Lawton. appalled at the loss of her new
switch, all on her knees with a wild scream, when

‘ \

passing vessels, and he ‘

glilililty, wh or how he did not exact] un- 5
orbore to do what he had en 3 1
water.
It seemed to him '
at that moment too much like a causeless insult to .

ed to call out to Hart, and where they were .

all 0 .
'lgie fact was that, the next day after leaving . The?
’ bred bandits, and Helen realiz that her whole

and their only .

Hart, we are here in the cabin. .

this picturesque but unmannerly rufl'lan turned on
Helen, brandished his knife close to her face and
told her, as plain as Signs could say, that if she went
to that window an more, he would cut off her nose.

Naturally both t ese timid women were scared b ’
his thundering voice and furious manner, and shrun
away into corners of the cabin in silence, while the
sounds of shots overhead announced that quite a
iitélie battle was going on up there, on account of the

a es.

It was soon over, and the next intimation they had
of what had occurred was when a man came lim ing
down the cabin stairs, dropping blood as he w ed,
and owling out all the curses in the Greek v0-
cabu ary on the head of the “English devil " who
had shot him.

Then the poor women felt indeed afraid.

Up to that time they had been treated with so
much respect that the cabin had been left to their
sole occupancy; but now here were four or five ic-
turesque niftians. binding up their comrade‘s or,
before the scandalized Lorelia, and cursing away in

It seemed as if a change was coming over their
on itors.

t did not last long, however. As soon as they had
tied up their comrade‘s leg and laid him in one of
the bunks to groan and swear at his leisure, the rest
of the men went u stairs. and all was quiet for
some time, till the increasing gloom of the cabin
warned them that night was comin on.

They could hear through the wim owe a good deal
while hails in Greek and Italian were frequent, bu
they did not attempt anything more on heir own
account in the way of calling for help. If one of
them made anythin like a motion to go nearsstern
window the wouined pirate growled at them so
fiercely that they were glad to retire, and so matters

‘ went on till it was pitch dark, the two women cling-
As he turned to look back, there was Diamantina, ‘
,tros, standing in the cabin- r

ing together in terror, while the noise outside had
sunk to quietness and was slowly superseded by the
hollow rumbling of surf on rocks.

At last the motion of the vessel became easier,
showing that she was entering some sheltered inlet;
and after a while they heard the creak and rattle of
ropes and blocks made by lowering sail and the
su en splash of the anchor as it drop into the

Then one of the Greek sailors looked down the
hatch and called out what sounded like:

“ Ikkxmy iyoce.”

Helen was as ignorant of Greek as most young
ladies, but she ha( a kind of notion that this meant,
“Come u , you two!“ and she was right; for tho

flaring lig t of a torch was soon held at the mouth

of the hatchway, and one of the sailors received
‘ them with a low bow and motioned them to the side,
where a boat was waiting for them.

Helen looked tiniidly up and around her, and saw

that they were in a small sheltered cave, surrounded
with abrupt black preci ices that shut out all view,

and made her feel as if hey were in the bottom of a

e side toward which she
was gazin , she saw a group of men in Greek cos—
tume, wit bright flaringI torches, the light shinin
on their long guns and t e knives and pistols witfi
which their sashes bristled.

In the boat sat her father, his head bowed on his
breast, his whole attire indicating dejection, while
the dull gleam of handcuffs and anklets showed that
he had been harshly treated.

O‘Shea was nowhere to be seen. As soon as she
saw her father Helen stepped into the boat and
would have gone to him, when one of the Greeks
shook his head and pointed to a place in the stern-
sheets, where be compelled her to sit with her aunt.

Not a word was spoken as themwed to shore,
till one of the Greeks clapped Sir mley familiarly
on the shoulder, and cried:

“Ikkany, Helm/'11!“ (Come, come.)

Then the baronet started out of his stupor of de-
ection and submitted to be led ashore, where he
rst seemed to notice that Helen was with them.

“My child!" he muttered with anpitiabie attempt
at a smile; “ this is a sad mes .

Then one of his eguards pulled roughly away,
and he was hustl off by a cr0wd of fellows worse
looking than the piratical zponseflshm. About the
latter there in ht be a oubt- but there was no
question as to t ese fellows. were thoroughr
f mil wasin their power-

rebi’nbling and in silence, the two women followed
their captors up a steep rock th, which wound

- in and out among the rocks till hey had lost at m

of the haven into which they had come, w en
they halted in a little valle , nestled between tw0
s mm of the hills, and foun there three ponies, two
0‘! which were saddled for ladies.

Obeying signs rather than wordsathe two Misses
Lawton mounted these animals, which at once set
ed at a brisk trot, and prevented them seeing what,
became of Sir Lumley, who was left behind,

Beside each pony ""1 a pair of tall mountaineers,
keeping pace with the animal with ap rent ease,
and be ind them the heard a good de of shoutj
and laugtmng, which elen did not dare to latex-pm

t ‘ to home

She had heard horrible stories of the crueltles of
the Greek brigands to their captives, and feared
that they were treatin her father with in ty.
but did not dare to loo hack to see if hers clone

.‘ were well founded. She knew she could not help

him, and hoped she was mistaken,

Thus they rushed on through the ht, always at
the Same Dace th? horses in a shflxrot, the men
ginning On 88 if weariuess were a unknowu to

em.

How long they went on in this way Helen could
not tell, tired and jolted to loose as she was, gore
and miserable: but the red, streaks of dawn were
blushing in the eastern sky When they Came to a
halt at est, in the midst of a wild confusion of rocks
and mountains, and her conductors began to make
pigculiltlir calls into the darkness round them. imita-
t t e cries of oats.

lies: soon a whole party was clustered to.
gether n the midst of the Valle , and Helen looked
round her for her father. All a could see was a
prostrate form. that seemed to be tied face down.
ward on the back of the third pony, and full of hor-
ror at the idea that he was dead. she Jumped on M
horse, ran to the other, and cried frantically: ,

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"Father, father, speak to me! Say you are
alive." , I

“Only just,“ muttered Sir Lumley. in aboarso
II ' “the wretches~huvemany—killed me—

The brigands made no attempt, to separate them
now. On the contrary, they seemed to be trying to
makeu for their harshness on the road, tor they

i

took 8 r Lumley off his horse. cutting the ropes i

with which he was tied, and laid him gently on the

One of them even handed Helen a small ,

ask of arrack, with signs to give some to her father,
Who seemed completel exhausted.

Poor Sir Lumley swa lowedIa few mouthfuls of the
fiery liquid, which restored him so much that he was
able to sit u and tell the story of how he came in
such a pitia lo plight.

“ The tied me o the beast‘s tail and made me
run wit my hands tied behind me. They pricked
me up when I fell with their knives," he groaned.
“ Then, when I let the horse drag me, not caring
whether I lived or died, they fastened me on as you
saw, and here I am."

Poor Helen wept bitterly over her father‘s woes,
and aunt Lorelia came close to them as if for sym—
pathy, shuddering and crying:

“ Oh, Lumley, I told you how it would be when we
left Alexandria in that odious vessel. Why didn‘t
you stick to our own steamers? Here we are, in the
midst of murderers and cannibals; and Heaven only
knows when we shall ever get out, if at all."

Sir Lumley Could only groan for answer as he
looked at the grim faces of the hrigands.

CHAPTER XXXV.
THE BRIGANDS. I I I

WHILE they were discussing their CPOSIYIOH and
groaning the dawn was advancing, no they could
see the faces and costume of their captors. I In spite
of their position Helen could not help admiring the
beauty of both.

The features and figure of so many Apollos, all
attired in velvet jackets and leggings, white Silk
kilts and a rofusion of gold embroidery, would
have warme the heart of a French artist at loose
among them.

Presently they heard the scream of a hawk among
the rocks, and out rode a tall patriarchal-looking
old villain with a long lward uni curls that swo t
his shoul ers, all of the most dazzling white. 0
was mounuld on one of the little hill ponies, and his
dress fairly blazed with gold as he came to meet
them, when all the hand raised a shout of :

\ "‘ All At .' Ji'eerie.’ Ai .’ “

" Who is that?" asked Helen of one of her cap—
tors, indicating the advancin ' old man. The bandit
threw back his black curls th a proud toss as he
answered:

“ Na to Keerio: Sokrrihllé, gm’nie." (That is Lord
Socrates, woman.)

Naturally Helen did not understand anything of
this except the name; and that, conveyed no idea to
her mind, for she had never heard of this particular
professor of highway robbery. _

But Mr. Secmtes soon sot all her doubts at rest by
coming up and saying in English:

“I am charm, much charm to see Sare Loniloe.
I ‘ave expeck coin for some-a time-a.“

Sir Lumley looked wearily up.

“ Expected me? What do you mean?"

“I mean that we 'ave hear of do so beautoeful
vatch you ’ave wid de ladies. I read do papers,
Bare, and vo got do Bord du Nil. Charm to see you.
We shall enjoy do mountains \‘cr‘ moch, dis time.”

Sir Lumley looked up at him, and saw that the
old man’s keen black eyes were bent on him with a
curious and malicious expression, as if he enjoyed
the mspect of torturing him.

“ e are in your power and must pay for it," an-
swered the baronot, sullenly. “How much do you
want for our lives and liberties?"

“How moch?" said Mr; Socrates in n. meditative
tone. “ Let me see. You are ..nglish milordo.
You ’ave dc great estatc in England.‘

“ No such thing," interrupted Sir Lumley, hastily.
“ I'm a poor man. I've only got my savings."

“ Yes, sure, 1 know. Day are foefteo t'ousand

ooneo Inglos in do fou‘ (you call ‘lm fond ?) and

e vatch and bracelets, and necklace of do late
with of rishnapoor. ls dirt not true?“

r. Socrates laughed in a SllVel'y manner as be
consulted a little book from which he read out those
item and watched Sir Lumley 5 face.

“Your blinkair in Athens is M. de Rosenbaum,
care, and ‘e is do agent for Billings, 01 London, who
hold do trust of our fond. Is it not true, sure i“

Sir Lumley fe t the sweat roll down his face as he
stummercd:

“ How do you know my affairs?"

" But is beezec-ness, sure. I would be poor man if
I did not. keep dc record of do travelliiir. My men
’avo watch you since you sail in de Aphrmhtc, and
do captain o be great friend of mine. Vo call coin
Keerio Glypteros.”

Sir Lumley tried to smile. _

“T t is no news. We felt sure he wnsa traitor
when the Aphrodite left us. Conic, how much do
’°“r“l‘&é°€“"" , ,

“ 8e ‘ousand gueonee Inglcs, and do ewe ,"
W53" the build response of Mr. Socrates.

Sir Lumle staggered up from the ground and
(Med the Ch M in dignation that banished his fears
as 11% crleiIi: II ha

“ 0u S 18 never Ve it. I'll die first."

Mr. Socrates rubbed his hands togetherns if he
was very well pleased at the retort.

H pm; is ver good, sure. You can die at once
whenever you weele My son Alkibiuhdé, will keel
you wid do great Pleasm‘e- We will take our time
about cot.“

He 3 he to one of the good-looking scam by his
xido, w in a moment had tri Ped up Sir umley,
When he was seized by four 0t mm and held as in a
Vise while Mr. Socrates went on:

“We alwa a kill do (RI-sillmlt‘ people by inches,
sate. Alkibi do vill bogm 13y knock out your tooth,
one ata time, wid do butt of his pistol. lien ve vi-
cut 03 your fingares, one by one. Ve yill giv y.
an hour between each 1088, to give you a
chance to change your mind. Now, sat-c, u

 

M
gin. Alli/dim ~ "pee tokeen'e.” , I
But Sir Lumley had heard enoi‘fi. 
men of the ant words wcl ‘ . .-
h' m ”) not i " M.

/

‘somethin so a ill
g ppfiingi

; Struggling fiercon he shouted out, as well as he

could:

“ Wait a minute. I‘ll pay.“

Mr. Socrates waved his hand, and Sir Lumle was
set on his feet, while the brigands who hadbeon
holding back Helen and Lorelia from any sort of in-
terference released them.

The women at once rushed to Sir Lumley and
clung around him, imploring him to save his hfe, to
consent to anything rather than be tort

death, and the baronet visibly trembled. There was ‘

in the method of death
flgandioanbgglhils exemglary
er o to ons,
izod. Ho trioge to make

am.

“ Come, Keerio Sokrahtié,” he said; “don’t let’s get
into a passion. You don’t want to take all I have in
the world and leave me a beg ar. I‘ll ve ou a
check for a thousand unds. on’t tha do? ’

Keerio Sokrdhtié 00]: his head with the same
bland smile.

“Oh, no, sir. Imust ‘avo an order on Monsieur
Rosenbauin for all do stock in do fou’, (funds,)
transfer to my name, through Moestaro Baring, in
London."

“But, what use would that be to you?” asked Sir
Lumley, in des ration. “ They would never pay it
to you, withou you were identified in London. ‘

‘ Pardon, sare,“ was the oil answer. “ I am well
known in London. I bank wit M. Baring m ”

“But, if I do any such thing I shall be legs: beg-
gar ” urged Sir Lumley.

The old brigand shrugged his shoulders with the
same bland smile.

“You are not seexty yet, sare, and you ’avo do
ceeveel serveece. I ’avo to live as I can sare."

romised by the am
amil were so obviously
that ir Lumley was demo

. abarg '

“ I’ll toll on what I‘ll do,” said Sir umle sud-
denly. “ I’ divide with you. Will that do, eerie
Sokréhtié?"

The old Greek pulled out a snufl-box.

“ No, sure, it Will not do,” he said, as he 0 ned it.

“I want ” (here he took a pinch) “ feoftoe’ inch)
“ t‘ousand pound ” (snifi') “and de jewel " (5
do late Rajah of rishna r. If you do not decide
in t'roo minute, I tell Alk iahdé to begoen again."

Then he put up his snufi-box, turned his pony's
head and walked the animal away several paces to
where the men had just kindled a musing fire. The
shuddering group 0 prisoners saw that they were
heating some cl knives red-hot in the fire.

IThon Sir Lumley, with a great effort, said to his
s stor:

“ Lorelia, we must, vo up our watch. Have you
the bracelets and nec lace th you there i"

Pale and trembling, Lorelia hastily took 03 that
fatal watch, with a splendid necklace and bracelets
of emerald, which she habitual] woro under her
dress, and held them out as Koe o Sokrahtib rode
back to them. The old brigand took them with a

w.

“Now care," he said to Sir Lumley, " we are
ready. ’Will you at the order, or shall we cut you
into oetel pieces? oaro ready now.“

CHAPTER XXXVI.
RETRIBUTION.

As Keerio Sokrfihtio s ke his smile became par-
ticular] wicked and ull of triumphant meaning,
so that elen hid her face on her father‘s breast,
while Lorella shriekod and shuddored.

I Sir Lumley turned very pale and answered, hasti-

ya

‘ I consent. I‘ll sign anything you like. Then you
will let me go, I suppose?’

“When we ’avo make secure do 'olo beezoness,
sare," was the cautious roogly.

Then Mr. Socrates turn to his men and called
gut something in Greek, as ho dismounted from his

orse.

The handsome Alkibiahdo advanced to his father’s
side, took the horse and dashed of! among the ’
like a r rough rider, while Mr. too, new
all incl uous courtesy, went through the formality
of introducing SIir Lumle ' to his whole band, the
members of which bow with stately gravity as
their names were mentioned.

“ These, sare, are my nine sons," said the old rob-
ber, proudly. “Aristlou, Stefano, Tokiot’i, Aristo-
télié, Pei-ll; o, Demetri, Teseo, Sofoklé, and Alki-
biahdé, who is gone. Dose are my cousins, twenty-
throo of dem, and dero is our loetel familee. You
like dcm, sare?"

Sir Lumlgyrgloomilwsontod, for he could say no
less: and . Sacra p ed to give another
long string of modernized classical names, as he
proudly paraded his interesting family of cut-
throats.

“I ’avo rule do mountain since I was a holy, aaro.
De Turk and do Greek do all fear me, and laugh
at de lice. Now we wi ’avo do dinner, care."

An the little group of captives soon found them-
selves sitting down with a band of brigands, who
treated them withtho most distinguished courtesy,
till the return of Mr. Alkibiahdé, who came racing
back with another Greek gprwn of clerical aspect,
who wore s tacles and ad no weapon save an
lnkhorn an sachel of papers.

This personage was introduced as “Our cousin,
Mr. Sofoklo'” and Mr. Sophocles soon showed him-
self an admirable English scholar and an adopt in
business; for he produced an order on English
stamped blanks, ready filled in, for Sir Lumley to
sign, transferring his stock in the three per cent.
console to “ Sofoklé, Sokrt’ihtié and Company of as
Strand, London, merchants, for value received.”

Sir Lumley signed the order, after another un-
avai struggle for terms, which was terminated
by the hroat of beginning 0 rations with rod-hot
knives, and then watched wit a rueful face the do-
pn rturo of Mr. SophOClIes, who oped away, as the

' chief informed him, to thens, to see to the

“q.”
. I I , sore " observed Keerio SokrAhtié,
I Subtle our footie attain. You vill stay ’oro

~ of Keerio Sofoklo wid do mania, and
. 0 them. In de meantime I '3“!
“,1;- 1eetie . . to settle. You vill write out a full
l-onfession of do truth in do death of do Rajah of
Krishna r, to use in do suit for do mtoration ofhlfl
cog; Ka dasa." And he rubbed

 
  
  

 

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11"

 

his hands.
r Lumley sprung to his foot in excessive aton-
ialunont.

urodtol

 

L1 .11 4 “'1‘ 1.

“ What do you mean t" he almost screamed. “ Am
I not free at I”

“From eerie Sokrahtié, yes, sale; but not from
the Duke of Diamantina.“

Helen and aunt Lorelia rose in great dismay and
alarm, and the elder lady cried out:

“Good heavens, Lumley, what does he mean? The
Duke of Diamantina is our friend.”

As for Helen she looked at her father in mute
amazement for a minute, and then c0vered her face
with her hands, ejaculating:

“And you know who he was all the time. Would
to Heaven we had all died before this came to us."

" But what does he mean?” persisted Lorolia,
frotfully. “ Who is the duke, Lumley? Can‘t you
answer?"

It was Keerio Solm’ihtié who answered for him,
for Sir Lumley seemed to be inca able of speech.

“ I will call a entleman who w tell you, madame.
‘Ere is Keerio lypteros."

And down the valley came riding a tall, thin man
in blue flannel clothes, whom they recognized in a
moment as the treacherous captain of the Aphrodite.

The stranger dismounted close to the fire and
came u to ir Lumley.

“ Rec on you’ve forgotten mo " he said. “ My
name’s Carver. The People of hnapoor called
me Gilkarvah when commanded his highnoss’s
body-guard. I had a board in those days, and it was
off when we met in Egypt at the club. Do you re-
member me yet, Sir Lumley Lawton?”

Sir Lumley was ghastly pale and seemed to be
choking, but he managed to whisper:

“In mercy—not before them—"

The Yankee adventurer smiled bitter] .

“ Not before them ./ Your sister and daughter
who have believed you to be an honorable man
these ears, when u e have known you to be a traitor

that it his benefactor! No; not before them!
Mercy! Did you show mercy to the noblest ntle-
man in India, when you ordered him blown in a

British cannon and stole his jewels from the dead
body which rotted awa unburied in his own mars
ket-p ace? No. no, Lum e ' Lawton. Twenty years
is long to wait, but our time for justice has come at
last. Give us a full confession and restore my boy
xiii his father’s throne, or you never leave this place

ve."

“ I will doit," muttered Lawton, with d]? lips.

Carver laughed a short, fierce laugh 0 satisfac-

on

“ That‘s better. We know each other now. Hero
is the account which I have made of the affair. It
tells how you made roposals to the Rance, and
how, in revenge for or rejection you committed
peiijury against the Rajah. It to show you com-
pel ed Sergeant O’Shea of the artillery, to give up

he watch, presentcd him by the Rajah, and con-
ferred it on your sister, telling her on had bought
it for her. I recites your knowl go of the inno-
cence of Rajah Kalldasa, and pm 8 t e Em rose of
India to do justice and restore t o young jah to

his roper . There it is. Will you sign it P”
o ban od Sir Lumley a large parchment on-
tho form ofapetition and pointed out

some signatures on the foot.

“There is Captain O‘Shea’s name,” he said, “ with
that of Sergeant Major Dobbs, who was the corporal
of the gun and saw the execution. There are the
names of nine officers present at the execution, all
joining in the petition. Now will you sign it?”

The unhappy baronet read it over. the sweat roll-
ing down his face, while Helen and his sister stood
as if aralyzed, watching him in silence.

At at he faltered:

“ I cannot do it, man. Life would not be worth
having if I owned all that to be true."

Before Carver could answer Helen swept forward,
pale and resolute. ‘

“Father,” she sai simply, “is this all true!“

Sir Lumley buried ' face in his handsand groan-

Sho pressed closer to him.

“ Don‘t be ashamed to tell the truth, father. We
can make amends, for the past if we only tell the
truth. I am not afraid to work for you, dear. Any.
t ' is better than living a lie all our lives. In it

true."
“God be] me it is, Helen,”he roaned “and
’ I knew himgand Effie the

Diamaiitina a his son.
moment I saw them.”

“ Then sign the petitio ” was her quiet reply. “ If
you did them wrong twen y years 0 do them right
now. I, for one, am ready to bearafiie result.”

Carver had been starin at her in a sin or man-
nerall this time withou saying awor . Now he
beckoned to Keerio Sokrfihtic and the brigands ro-
tired to a little distance and left the Lawtons to
themselves.

They could see Helen pleading with her father
and hear every now and then the querulous tones i
of Lcrelia reproaching them both, but they did not
attem t to go near them, and so foragood half-
bourt e gir pleaded with the man for justice while
the bandits looked curiously on.

At last Sir Lumley was heard to call out:

“Give me the paper in Heaven’s name. You
wish my public disgrace? Then on your head he the
consequences.”

Then he came toward them. his face not and
desperate, and cried out in tones that showed his
fears were all gone:
dI“Give mo pen and ink. I’ll sign it on one con-

'tion."

“ And what II; abut?” askedugarver.

“That ’ou me a ms and ht me, out
you whoyhave brought all this onflgic,” wasythe
almost frenzied willy,

‘° You shall have! . answered Carver, promptly;

“ but sign first.

He took out 8 gold {gen and pencil case from his
ket with a slow do iberation' then brought out a
ittlo screw flask of ink which he opened and held
ready for Sir Lumley while one of the brigands oner-
ed the flat stock of his n for a hAsty writing-desk.
with face of ashy pa or but a firm hand the baronet
bed the record of his owu infamy and then

throw down the pen with a deep curse.

The importurhable Carver ca ml picked it up and
wrote his owr name as witness, a ter which be dried
the paper at, the are, folded it up, put it in his breast,
poc ot, secured his ink-bottle and pen with the same
quietdgdli athenmrnodtoSirLumloy and
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“ Now, cunnel, I’m read for you.”

“ Then give me the ‘p l,” snarled Sir Lumley,
savagely '

“ I as. d you should have it and so you shall,” was
the quiet reply, “but on ain’t oing to shoot any
one of this crowd. ow look ere. I’m goin’ to
give this pistol to Alkibiéhdc here. He shall take it

own the stream to that big rock and leave it there.
If on want it go and get it there.”
0 his surprise Sir Lumley nodded as if satisfied.

“ Dlo ,as you please,” he said. “ I only want the

isto .’

Then Alkibiahde set oif at a gallop down the valley
and the baronet turned to his daughter and shoo
his finger at her in a menacing manner as he said:

“ You made me disgrace myself just now, Helen.
I hope you‘ll be sorry for it before night. Good-by.”

But before he could go Helen was clinging around
him in tears begginfilshim to forgive her, and he
Scientan so far as o s her coldly on the brow as

e sa :

“Good-by. If these gentlemen choose to stop me
the can do it. I’m goin to Athens on foot to com-
pl to the British consu .”

Carver sneered as he went off.

“ All the British consul can do can’t hurt us," he
called out after Sir Lumley. “ Walk of! your tem-
per among the mountains. You can’t leave them.”

He thought that the angry and much humiliated
baronet was tryin to escape and he well knew the
futility of any suc attempts. At a sign from him
two of the mountaineers rose and went after Sir
Lumley whom they saw approach the big stone and
stoop or the pisto .

Then the baronet turned toward them and threw
up his hands to heaven as if im recating a curse.

A moment later Helen utte a fearful shriek and
fell senseless to the ground.

At the same instant came a flash and report.

Sir Lumley had blown out his brains, unable to
bear his impending disgrace and poverty.

CHAPTER XXXVII.
UNCLE AND NEPHEW.

Gunmen HAaT, weary and disheartened, sat in
the ublic room of the Hotel de Pericles, in Athens,
writ a letter home to his mother. He had utterly
failed to find Helen Lawton and had been unable
even to meet with the supposed asponge-boat in
which he had seen her, tho h he h visited every
felucca in the harbor of t e Pirieus, and sharply
scanned eve Greek sailor he had met.

He had hes eged all the consuls for help, but in
vain. None of them would take any trouble on his
vague statement of what he had seen, and all seem-
ed to be more or less indifferent about the fate of
the Lawtons.

“ M dear fellow, they’ve got among the brigands,"
said t e American consul, ‘and they‘ll have to pa
a ood round sum for their deliverance, that’s .

e can’t interfere unless you show us where they
are. Funn thing about those sponge~fishers, though.
Didn‘t be eve there was any trace of piracy left in
these seas.”

The En lish consul and all the rest were “sorry,
but such t ings happened every day.”

And so poor Clarence sat down With a weary heart
to write home to his mother all about his adventures
and misfortunesband especially of the disapgear-
ance of Dom Gil rabador, whom he fancied be
his uncle Gilbert Carver.

While he was still writing away he heard some
one cough near him, and looked up, for the cough
seemed esigned to ain his attention.

There, precise an formal as ever, in his glossy
black, sat Mr. Glypteros, the Yankee-Greek partner
of Pa adoulos, Demetri and company, a grim smile

mant n on hisryellow visage.
“Waninlhr. art,” exclaimed this erson, with-
out thes ghtest ceremon , “if you n‘t the con-

sarnedest, darnedest, pig: eaded son of a sea cook I
ever knew, bu'st me into fiddle-strings.”

For a moment Clarence was too much amazed to
answer, and then he jumped up, demanding furious-

l :
y“What do you mean, sir?” Who are you talking

"To the darndest pig-headed fool in all Athens,”
was the com osed answer. “A teller that ain’t got
no more bra us than a weasel, and ought to be kick-
ed all the way from the Acropolis to the Piraaus.
What do you sa to that, sonny?” .

Clarence Ha could hardl believe his e es and
cars. This man was actua y jeering at m in a
public room and he looked round him to see if an
one was within hearing. There were only two wai -
are, but they were grinning and his temper rose to
fever heat.

He turned furiously round on Mr. Glypteros, and
lot that gentleman had snatched up his letter to his
mother and was coolly reading it!

In an instant Hart rushed at him, clutched at the
letter, and a moment later was locked in the long
nervous arms of Mr. Glypteros, who handled him
with the strength of a steam-en ne, lifted him as if
he had been a child, and finally orced him down in-
to a chair, tripping his feet from under him, remark-

in d l i
g Nlo’: you don't, soon 1 Your uncle's ot hold of
on, an I want you to _ ow it. The ol man ain’t
ost hisgripe yet. No, sir-rec, bob!"

There was something so peculiar in the way in
which this was said, With i s
Americanisms, that Clarence to tail his fur givl
way to irresistible laughter, and then an 1 ea su -
denly came into his head as he stared at Mr. Glyp-

teros.

“Wh , is it possible you are Gilbert Carver after
all? at an idiot I’ve been.”

His uncle (for it was of course none other) ve a
dry sniff, and made no answer save to smoo 11 out
the crumpled letter and read it aloud with com-

ments.

“ ‘I cannot hel thinking I‘ve found r uncle
Gilbert at last 11 the person of Dom G —‘ WM].
sonny if you‘d not been as blind as a bat, you‘d have
seen that the first d3 we met. ‘ But alas, I fear I
have lost him—’ 1 mild think 80."

Then he turned on Clarence with a face of affected

flerceness.

“ What made on insult the Duke of Dimntinar
Hadn't he been ind enough to you?"

“ He had," replied the other, with a blush of em.
burn-moat, “buthe refused to let me nave mu

 

uaint old-fashioned ‘

 

Felon Lawton from the pirates, and now she’s
0s .’

“Oh, that’s it, is it? Was], sup so I show you
the lady here in Athens under the uke’s protection,
what would on say to that 3’"

“But is it rue, sir?”

“ Waal, I ain’t used to tellin‘ lies, Clarence, and I
say it’s so. Say, you‘re sweet on that girl, ain’t
you? Own up now.”

“If on mean do I love her, sir, you are right,”
was C ences’s dignified answer. “The lady is one
of the best women I know.”

Gilbert Carver dropped his slangy way of talking
at once as soon as he saw that his nephew felt hurt.
He held out his hand and shook that of Clarence
warmly and affectionately as he said:

“Clarence, ou have spoken the truth. She is
one of the nob est women that ever breathed God's
air, andif you ever get her you will be a lucky
man ”

“Ah sir, there’s not much chance of that,” said

or Hart, sadly. If she is safe as on say, with

iamantina, he is the man she will ma e happy not
me. What chance has a cor man like me got to
win the child of an Englis baronet? Don‘t talk of
it, sir. The duke does what he likes with any wo-
man."

Carver uttered a low chuckle.

“ And do you think Diarnantina would marry
Helen Lawton, if she’d have him i‘"

“ Why not, sir? She is not beneath him.”

“That’s nothing to do with it. Do you su pose
he’d marry a girl whose father murdered his fa er?”

“ Why, sir, what—”

‘ ;‘,You don t mean to say you don‘t know who he
s V

“ No, sir. I have of course suspected."

“Then ask yourself what possible circumstances
could make a match between those two. Your love
has blinded yen, oun man. When the duke
warned you away rom er he did it to keep you
from suflerin in the retribution that was at to
come on the wtons. Now it has come. ustice
has been done. Sir Lumley Lawton is dead."

H  mg?!

“Dead by his own hand; afraid to face the dis-
ce his own hand wrought for himself. And
elen is alone in the world now."

“ Oh, sir, tell me where she is. Let me go to her
quickly.”

“ Stop, Clarence!"

Carver’s face was grave as he laid his hand on his
nephew’s shoulder.

My boy, twenty ears $0 that girl‘s father
(1 god a noble man 0 foul sgrace and death. It
has en my aim in life to restore the Rajah's son to
his father’s throne. I brought him up ave him his
education in the wide wor d, he] 3 mother to
carry off the hidden treasures o Rajah Kalidasa
and increased them tenfold by wise trading. You
understand now how Papadou os, Demetri and Co.
are only another name for Diamantina’s millions. I
have amassed those millions for him and he has not
been ungrateful. Do you know why we heaped
riches?”

“ Hardly, sir. I s?) se—”

“It was to seat dasa on his father’s thron
and that can only be done by the public exposure 0
Lawton’s crime. ’

“ Well, sir, how does tha ”

“Concern you? Thus. If you marry \Helen Law-
ton you marry into a family whose shame will soon
be published to the world.”

‘ Be it so, sir. She has had no share in the guilt,
and should have none in the shame.”

“Nevertheless, it will come.”

“ Then the more need she should have a'husband
to shield her from the sneers of the world.”

“ You will marry her then?”

“If she will have me, sir."

“Then you’re true grit, boy,” answered Carver, a
kind look lighting up his ru ged features. “ I’ve
onl been trying you all this me. Come with me!”

i of wonder Clarence followed his newl -found
uncle from the hotel to one of the ban most
houses in Athens.

“ Here,” said the elder, “is Diamantina’s house.
Helen is there. I expect you to apologize to the
duke for leaving him so rudely the ot er day."

Clarence flushed up.

“ I’ll do itx sir," he answered, “ though I still think
I was right. ’

 

CHAPTER XXXVIH.
CONCLUSION.

BUT, Clarence was never destined to make a formal
agology to the Duke of Diamantina. As he entered
t e house and went into one of the grand saloons
with Carver, he was met by the rincess who came
running out togreet him as if s e had known him
from his b0 hood, and embraced him—to his in.
tense confus on—and called out to her son:

“Kalidasa, Kalidasa, here is our young prodigal
returned! Ah, Monsieur Clarence, how could you
think my son would be cruel to zat sweet little lady?
She is in there, and we wrsh you to console her; is it
not so, Kalidasa?"

And then Diamantina came forward and clasgad
his hand with the warmth of an Englishman, w le
his large eyes were full of tears, an be whispered:

“ I have forgiven them all now. He did my 13-
ther’s memory justice, ere he died, and we must re-
pair the injury to his child.“

“ What do you mean?" asked Clarence, who re-
membered his uncle‘s words: “ Will you foregothe
claim to the throne of Krishnapoor in deed?"

"My dear sir “answered the other, with his old
sweet smile “ 'shnapoor has forgotten us now,
and I have lived long enough in the world to know
that. with all her cruelties, E land governs the
State better than the Ra'ahs of o (i did. I shall 68-
tablish my claim by a veto tition, and clear my
father's name from ob oquy; fit, I shall never see
India ain. My race came from the Caucasus and
to the aucasus it will return for fresh blood. .1 m)"
self owe much of my v' or to the white blood of my
mother, and have seen 00 much of chili” 011 t0

ve it up for the lazy barbarism of a Hindoo ah.

t come; we waste time, I have prepared the
lady for your visit, and on will remember that in
wooing her you woo as the nephew of my friend and
benefactor, Gilbert Carver, and the heir of a fortune
such as isnot often seen in America. in!"

He pointed to the door of tho boudoir into which

’1 l

 

j:

the Princess Mela tros had ustgone, and Clarence
entering, found mself in e presence of Helen
Lawton m deep black.

.) ~—

New Year’s eve, 1879, in the ci of Cairo and the
Diamantina Palace is blazin wi light within and
without while the strains 0 the bands pla
Ezbeki Park mingle with the songs, nch,
Italian, Greek and Arab that float up to the stars
from hundreds of little crises Chantants all through
the modern quarter of C .

There is a weddin goin on at the Diamantina
mansion, and the du e is b nd and smiling as ever
though he is not the bridegroom.

There is the chaplain of the American mission to

rform the ceremon , and the bride is none other

ban the Princess Me apetros, as beautiful as ever,
who stands beside a tall, thin man with a long,

omted figay beard, who looks old enough to be her

ather. is breast covered with gold embroidery,
his dark blue uniform, red fez and scimitar, show
him to be an oflicer of rank in the Khedive’s service,
and the eats all speak of him with res t as
Kahvah asha the Intendant of Finances or the
new Khedive, Mohammed Tewfik Pasha.

Among the guests we notice a young American
face, the wearer dressed in the E tian uniform of
a lower grade, and hav‘ on h arm a beautiful
young lady, who is evidgrlgly his wife.

“ B the wers, Hart Be ,” says a voice, close to
his e bow, ‘the ould man ooks young again, don’t
be? and as for the princess bedad, she 1puts the
colleen here to shame for her twent years ‘

The speaker is none other than 0' hea, in evening
dress, with a watch chain glittering with diamonds
falling over his vest.

Hart Bey smiles.

“ Where 5 Mrs. O‘Shea, to-night?" he asks. “ Hasn‘t
she come?" .

O‘Shea winks mysteriously, and says in a whisper,
into Hart’s ear:

“ She never likes to come near the princess; they're
the same age !”
Is it true!

It is. Captain O’Shea has married the fairLore
and neither has done so very badly. She has seen
a real, live husband, and he has got back not only
his wattcltifibut flfhti); thgdusandmgd unds fideséowhic
came 0 m on w mar ‘ foklé
sokrehtié & Co." r y ’

Who they were, he never knew, nor did his wife
enlighten him, while Helen naturally
the sub ect connected with so many nful memo-
ries. one the less, it was Sir Lum ey‘s ill- otten
fortune, which, after being extorted from him y the
brigand’s threats, had now been given back to his
sister by the enerous prince, from whose revenues
it was 0 ' a ly stolen.

For O’S ea, like a true-hearted Irishman, settled
it all on his wife, and the pair lived in clover oi! the
interest.

Clarence Hart and his uncle are both to-day in the

tian service as Kahvah Pasha and Hart Bey,
an since the mar of the former to the Princes
Melapetros, the duke as been getting restless, and
thireatens to go to Vienna and marry some German
p noess.

As for Helen Hart she has long since in her ha. py
union with Clarence, forgotten most of her troub es;
and OWen, who is now Lord Loughboro h, by the
death of his consumptive uncle, has leg the navy
and lives on his estates.

THE END.

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