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Publith Every
Month.

No. 1052.
The Duke of Diamonds:

THE FLOWER OF CALOUTTA.

A Story or Strange Lands and Sean.

 

BY (‘e\l"l'. FREDTC \VIIITTAKER,
AUTHOR v" “Tux: man
CNN-4." “ma msr CAPTAIN," arc

CHAPTER I.
1857.

TH! sun of India blazes above the brown jun-
gle. The tiger crouches in the long sumut
grass; the bufl'alo hides in the pools and the
elephant has retired to the thicket shade; but
the bgéty of Krishnapoor is all astir, like a hive
of s

Pale‘,'stern faces of English soldiers, exulting
glances of Sikhs, and stolid indifference of

 

nAJAn,“ “Tim IRISH '

 

M. J. IVERS & 00., Publishers.
{JAMES SULLIVAN. Pnornin'rnm,
379 Pearl Street. New York.

10 Cents a. Copy.
$1.00 a Year.

Vol. lXXXlI.

 

 

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

In the sfiuare of the market-place of Krishna-

or stan: s a brass nine-pounder, polished till
it gleams like burnished gold. Neat and plain,
handsome and serviceab , it braves criticism,
a (landilied death-dealer, a ver Nero of guns.

The house-tops are crowd 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
awe rthy Sik s, dismounted, carrying razor-like
tulwars slo ing over their shoulders. Then two
English so diers with fixed bavonets, a pris—
oner between them; then more Sikhs, followed
by a large staff of English officers, who mount

 

l

i lace are fixed.

square, following a tall, heavy-built man, in
diplomatic uniform, whom recognize an
“ the Resident.”

But it is not on him that the eyes of the popu-
It is the prisoner who attractl.I
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 0 be, he
looks as if he were lord of all around him.

He was so onlv a fewdavs ago, for this is none
other than the Rajah of rishnapoor. I

Prisoner 0: not, he is attired in robes of vel- i
vct, heavy with gold embroidery and 30w:
with seed pearls, while the flash of jewels from ‘
his collar, the bracelets on his bare, muscular :
arms, the clasp of brilliants that su ports the -
feather of his turban, would turn a ' th avo-
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 '

at the foot of the steps and ride out into the 3 post beiore its muzzle.

.._, MN
~ "mm
~'- ‘1-

_‘~—-

“YOU can, an m I: am wrra um AND ran cam, am) mu m cam-mu. poo, oowmn, ms; ram is n m!”

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

2

The Duke of Diamonds.

 

 

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 inis—
demeanors, be deposed from his kingdom and
blown from the cannon’s mouth in the public

uare of Krishnapoor.”

be doomed rince smiles bitterly as he hears
the 1‘ read), first in Hindoostanee, then in
Enin: , and still more bitterly curls his lip
when the Resident asks in Hiiidoostaiiee:

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

The Rajah laughs aloud as if in scorn as he
answers, in good English, but strained and peo
dantic:

“ Does in former secretary imagine that the
Rajah of rishnapoor will condescend to ad-
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 m
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 give you the hangman‘s
fee my excellent friend.”

Then turning fiercely on the English artillery-
men he cried:

“Load the gun! Will you keep me waiting
all day?”

The Resident is ghastly pale while the prisoner
speaks; but a. covert smile is on the face of
more than one staff officer as the hear 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 ofl‘icer: ~

“ Loud 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—ba is in its place behind a heavy

ouble wa , 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 ma ificent jeweled watch and is consulting
it witfii1 apparent interest.

0 prince remarks with the greatest suavity:

“ rgeant, I am glad to see you I am lad
they put you here for you wil do your at
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 aler than ever as he
takes the watch and mu ters with dry lips:

“ God hel your honor to glory!”

The Rajah turns to the corporal, still smil-

m .
g‘ M friend, your detachment is not as quick
as it should 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 t on Englishmen. Is that—”

“Tm: HIM UP!’ interrupts the voice of the ,

Resident, in a perfect shout. His face, lately
so pale, is now pu is with anger.

‘ Tie him up an blow him to pieces, the black
traitor!”

There is a sort of shudder among the officers,
as he speaks. 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 Openl at the Resident,
who affects not to see it, an continues:

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

The Irish sergeant salutes stiffly, With a mut-
tereu:

“ Yes, sir.”

As for the Rajah, he only laughs, as careless-
ly as ever, as the two non-commissioned offi-
cers, not urgently, lead him to the muzzle of the
piece and place 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 gun, the pos1tion in
which he is securedgcause im to stand nearly
erect, inclining a little back, his face turned di-
rectly to the Resident. _

The time has come and even the stolid _artil-
lery-men com ress t eir lips in expectation of
the terrible rama to be enacted. Onl the
doomed rince, of all the assemblage, 100 I as

calm as f he were witnessing a pla

Then the Resident dismounts ci’dse to him
and motions back the n-detachment. The
bystanders retire out of caring, and the Real-

_dent save, in low, hurried tones:

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

The Rajah laughs aloud.

“ Why, you are a reater fool than I thought.
You cur, my secret s safe with Eflle and the
child, and you are cheated. Dog, coward. liar;
w.“ —-‘ ‘m'n ’

 

 

 

 

It is the last wild defiance of impotence

againstinjustice and even the Resident feels the ‘

insult throu b all his armor of greed.

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

Then he motions forward the gun—party, and
ste s aside, watching the doomed prince with
ma iguant 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, who—”

“ Fire!” almost shrieks the Resident.

. The corporal lowers the port-tire on the prim-

ing.

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 religion of love and forgiveness.

 

1877.

BRIGHT shines the sun over the sparkling
waves of the Arabian Sea, through which the
stench ship Benares, of the P. & O. S. S. Co’s
line* is plowin her steady, old-fashioned way.
The Benares plied from Bomba to Suez when
first the P. & O. S. S. 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 cam p-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 gathered 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 isalan-
guidly insolent air about them that only be-
longs to the Englishwoman in India, with her
flfty black servants, more or less. The nearest
approach to this peculiar airof which Amei‘ifians
are capable might have been seen in a rich ew
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 for otten 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 ished Sir
Lumle Lawton, whose services in ndia have
into] 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-
tiful as a Greek statue, is her niece, onl daugh-
ter of Sir Lumley, and the toast of alf the
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 expected to hold our own against these
wicked men, who are practicing witty saying;
all the morning, when we’ve hardly strengt
tospeak at all— Fan harder, pig. Are you
asleep!” ,

The last words are not in En lish, but deliv-
ered in Hindoostanee with muc energy to the
patient black punkah-watlah behind her.
man other Anglo-Indian ladiesE the Honorable
Lore ia kee 5 her Hindoostanee or abusive pur-

, and nows 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, aunty? It amuses
them, you know. ”

There is a listlessly insolent air about Helen
Lawton that comes of too much petting and
flatter ; for she has been accustomed, ever
since s e was fifteen, tolook on men, especially
officers, 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?” sa a rich 0 eaginous voice. “ Amuses
us! An haven’t I been tr, ing for two mortal
hours to amuse our beauti ul self l”

The Honorab e Lorelia strikes in with her
usual un giggle.

“ Why, aptain O’Sheal And I thought you
were tr mg to please me.”

“ An why not i” asked the Irishman, a stout,
jolly-looking rsonage in the braided frock of
an ofiicer of t eControl Department (once Com-
missariat). “ Sure I’m like the highwayman in
tiiqlpla , Miss Lawton, that couldbe happy with
e t er.

 

  

 

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

_“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 the6 say something when they
speak, Captain ’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 Miss IIelen’s feet.

This outh been keen, handsome face, with
those 0 ear—cut, rather 5118.)?) 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 officer has always been jealous, who
comes to his rescue with t e quiet retort:

“Thanks for the compliment. But ‘we can-
hardlg call anything good which is rude. Ca '
tain ’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, thoug her niece’s
face had flushed violently. The elder lady is
too fond of admiration not to enjoy seeing her
beautiful relative snubbed.

The two gentlemen are soon amicably en—
gaged in burning the fragrant incense of the
American weed, rolled into the form of che—
roots, near the port paddlebox. O’Shea, who
has been disposed to dislike the American, on
the truly military ground that he is not one of
“ Ours,’ has been completely conquered by the
behavior of the latter. ,

“ 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 mate , and was looking
out over the port quarter toward the south-east
as he spoke.

O’Shea’s eyes followin 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’Shea?” asked Hart, as be light
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 ' V
l't 1e white speck of vapor gan to be visible.

“ Did you ever see a cloud like that?”

O’Shea cocked his e e at it.

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

“ More than we wish,” replied Hart, gravely.
“You’re a landsman O’Shea, or youd know
what that means. VV’e’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. The officers 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
light yards.

CHAPTER III»

THE TYPHOON.

IN less than two minutes the speck of cloud
O’Shea had seen by the mizzen-topsail- yard had
grown into a black mass of vapor, with dull
cop ry reflections alon its up r edge, ex-
ten ing from the zenith a most to ‘the bank that
had first arisen on the horizon.

Besides this, the cloudvbank on the south-east-
ern horizon was rising steadily, like a chain of
black and blue mountains with snow-clad peaks
behind which incessant red flashes and the r0
of thunder showed that a terrible storm was,

re ng. v
Elven the lady passengers began to see there
was something coming to mar the leasures of
the assage, t ough the captain an officers put
on c eerful faces and made their preparations
silently.
. The first intimation they had of the coming
peril was when the men began to strip of! the
uarter-deck awning, and t e steward to carry
t e cam hairs down below.

The on. Lorelia saw the latter functionary
displace her favorite lap—dog with a curt, “Beg
pardon, my lady,” and vanish down the com-

nionway, whereupon she .arose in great in-

'gnation, calling to her Indian butler: , '

“ Kitmuggar! Kitmug arl Bring back that
chair instantly, for

But, to her surprise, the Hindoo had vanish’
ed; and not only that, but a couple of sailors
had carried off her own and her mece’s seats in:
the first moment of her indignation, so that the
quarter-deck was empty of chairs; while the»
captain was calling on
dustotheerew,andthe matuwgro

     

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about with ve faces, swearing at the men in
a wa that enoted suppressed excitement.

“ at does this mean? Are they all going
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 pail 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
heard 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 mece
under her rouge.

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

At that moment a vivid flash of lightmng
came from the cloud above them, run 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 risked 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 posmbly have passed
0 , leaving his younger comrade to do the 
o¥a squire of dames; but the dismayed Loreha,
with all the impulsive eagerness of Sixteen,
rushed into his arms in a violent fit of hysterics.

Helen Lawton had fainted away  dead ear-
nest, but her aunt made up for her silence by a
succession of the most violent 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,

sheet, red down like a cataract.
C arence art had seen it coming, and hadal-
ready borne his fair burden below, conSi iin g

her to the care of the stewardessabut the on.
Lorelia’s hysterics were cut short in a strangled
shriek, as the water came dewn. O‘Shea, With
a few muttered words that sounded very much
like profanity, helped her to the companion
hatch, and saw her down-stairs, after which he
returned on deck to find the ship plowmg
ahead, still in a dead calm tbrOiigh a dense
sheet of rain that hid all the horizon, the air as
gloomy as if it were night, and no sound save
the rush of the cloudy cataract.

But this was not to last long.

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

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

Then they heard a loud, 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 trips of the waves of! as with a knife,
an filling the air with the sharp, stinging spray
of the “s indrift.”

It struc the ship, stripped though she was,
and made a clean sweep of all  masts at
once, with its first effort 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 stern to bows; thcn lulled for
about went seconds; when, crash] came a
fiercer blast han ever on the starboard beam.

First it was south then north; now east, anon
west; till the wind had boxed the compass in
every int along the zigza gpath of the typhoon.
Now t 0 sea rose and came tearing down on
the devoted vessel in great en mountains.

O’Shea, who had ci-awle up under the shel-
ter of the stern rail, heard the ca tain ell out
some orderto the man at the w eel, ‘taaa
towering green monster came sweeping down
on the port paddle-box.

The shi ’s head swerved round to meet the
wave, b too late to revent mischief. The
captain himself was on the 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 stern as
the engines went whirling round unchecked by
any resistance; then she swept round in a Circle,
like a wild duck with a broken Wing; while
wave after wave poured in upon hr, buffetmié,r
her from port to starbo-ird 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,
wreckin the ddles completely and bendin
the stou iron Ezrs of the wheels as if they hm
been mere wires. The ca tam had vanished,
and. notaman save himse f seemed to be left
on deck, while the sea to leeward was covered
with pieces of wreck, token of how the remorse-
ls-waveshadswepttheBenares fromstem to

 

The Duke of Diamonds.

CHAPTER IV.
'rnn DIAMOND Dun.

Tim Arabian shore of the Persian Gulf is low ,

and 1] t1 d"t ' ts of E1 Ak‘ha and .
mars y’ 16 ’b “c b " from the flagstafl.’ at thestern of the yac

Oman bein notoriously unhealthy. The Peo-
ple are muci darker than their neighbors o the
interior highlands of Nedjed, and get their liv-
ing by fishing and the slave trade, 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 rinci-
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 succeede in running the blockade
every year and these made the best of their
way to El Katif and Tuat, knowing that English
shi rarely went beyond Muscat or into the
Gu f. A Single gunboat of the East Indian
navy, cruising around Bushire on the Persian
coast, is the on] vesti e of law and order in
those seas; and t 6 British Resident at Bushire
never interferes with the opposite coast.

But, Tuat is something besides a slave depdt.
It lies behind the famous island of Bahrein 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 June, and
the fishing season has set in in full vigor. The
little town lies scorching in the sun on its black
mud flat, and the portis full of boats, utting
out and comin in from Bahrein, just in sight
at the other si e 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 peai‘ance, with a trim neatness
about her t at tells of civilization.

Not very high in the water, for one might
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 unhes-
itatingly call her a yacht.

No trading-vessel ever had such a gloss to her
dark brown paint, like mahogany, or such a
bright gold streak running from bow to stern.
No tra er ever kept her decks so white and
clean, or her masts stayed so trul .

But this yacht if yacht she , has a look
about her decidedl Oriental, for her rig is that
of the Arab or M iterranean “ lateener ;” with
short sturd masts, raking forward, and taper-
inglyards o enormous length, rising in the air
as igh asthe masts of an ordinary schooner.
The sails are furled snugly away, however, with
a care and neatness t iat no Oriental vessel
ever displayed, and contradict the presumption
raised by t crest of the rig.

A few sailors, grouped on the forecas‘tIe 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 trepical seas; swarthy Arabs; su ple Hin-
doos; active little Malays; all dr in uni-
form of Moslem cut, turbaned, jacketed and
be y-breeched, with bare feet, their sashes
fufigof 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. strange appearance, being about the
size of an ordinary gun, without any carriage,
and placed opposite the ports. What these cases
may be and what they contain, in our days of

rtable Gatlin s 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 vessel 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 shar eager face. His
eyes are of that greenish azel, with yellow
specks, that betoken keen si ht: and his heard
is of that intense blue—lilac that only accom-
panies the Persian method of dyeing with henna
and indigo.* At the sides it is scant and thin,
but grows heavily on mouth and cliin, and is

 

‘ Turks and Persians almost universally dye their
beards (performing the operation 0 nly and taking
several aysto perfect it. First t ey use a decoc-
tion of henna, the same with which harem beauties
stain the ti s of their fingers. This turns the board
abrightb ckdust red, in which state the hair re-
mains several days, the owner not seeming to take
any shame from the looks of his face. The dyeing
is then oom leted with indigo, which confers a las-
trous blue- somo tune.

 

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 droogs

lazily
t bears
the colors of P01 tugal.

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 1h per-
héilps equallyill in all, for what the rea er can

Still, Portuguese appearsto be the official lan-
e of the yacht, for it is in Portuguese that
e snaps out is last order.

“ Call all hands to receive His Grace, the
sDiluke pf Diamantina; and pipe the boats for

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 lookingto-
ward the cabin.

Presently a head is seen rising above the bras
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 s
muster in ress and manner in an part of the
world for a rich yacht-owner. is dark blue
suit, fittin irreproachably, white vest and slip-
pers, broa hat of Guayaquil grass, are all so
studiously plain that the show the master of
dress among his gaudily—c ad dependents.

Neither uniform, weapons, nor jewels mark
the young Duke of Diamantina; owner of half
the diamonds in the world (according to report)
and spending mone like water. Plain gold studs
and a slender watc -chaln are the only traces of
ornament about him, and there is nothing to
gistract attention from his handsome face and

re.

0th of these are of remarkable s 'mmetry.
He is above the medium hi ht, and is 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 ma ificent eyes, thin
curling li intensely black air and mustache,
setting 0 splendid teeth when he smiles, as he
does now to the officer in uniform.

“ Well, Dom Gil,” he says, in a tone of languid
approval “you have brought these cubs into
shape at last I see. I am satisfied now that we
can go to Calcutta without being ashamed of
the vessel.”

The keen-looking officer with the black beard
looks criticall at the men and answers:

“ I think t ey will do after awhile, your
giace, though it s a good eal of trouble to get
t em to stop their talking. Will your grace
take the long-boat or the i g i”

“ The long-boat. Ith' I shall 0 to Bah-
rein to-day ” re lies the duke. “ avs you
heard whether t ea have found any specially
large pearls Dom i1?”

“One of tlie pearl-boats came in this morn.
ing with the joy-song, your grace, and when I
as ed, the told me hat Haroun the Wahabee
had brou t the largest find of fifty years.”

The d e displayed his white teeth, as his lip
curled in a gentle smile.

“ Send the men to their berths,” he said,
quietly- “Haroun the Wahabee is very oblig-
ing to save me a hot row in the sun. Send for
him to my cabin.”

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

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

that taste and comfort could desire and lux-
ury purchase, cool silk cushions, ebon and sil-
ver couches seated with cane networ , books,
pictures, statuettes, trophies of arms.

The duke threw himself down on a silk-cover-
ed divan, smooth and cool, by the stern wim
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 vision
a large slave dhow, slowly gliding into the port
of Tuat under a faint breeze from the south.

She was crowded with negroes, who had been
shaken up out of their confined position during
the voyage, now that there was no further dan—

er of their escape, and the shivers were busy
ocking of! their irons.

The duke looked at them with a slight ex-
pression of disgust. He had often seen slave
dhows before, and the breeze brought from thi
one a sickenin efiluvium. He cla ped his
hands and a litt e black boy entered 11;)
with his master’s long hookah which the duke
began to smoke in self-defense. He was not.
used to disagreeable thin . and the presence
of this horrible slave how annoyed him

greatl .
It gilded slowly on, 00

nearerandneara-
theywhgandatluttho '

‘.i a

 

 

 
 

4

The Duke of Diamonds.

 

i=3:

 

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 ple go to leeward or else sink them.”

The y vanished.

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

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

As he spoke, an as if by magic, the men on
the watch whipped off one of the brass-bound
cases that stood inside the bulwarks of the
yacht, and up went a bright steel mitrailleur,

inged on a long bar, so thatit just ' ped 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
fi 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 'te 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 b0 , he said, as quietl as usual:

“Tell em Gil to stop the r firin .”

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 a ter this.”

There was an immediate cessation of firing on
board the dhow, though the reis beg .n to shout
out all kinds of rcmonstrances against robbing
a man of his property; but in the meantime
the two swimmers reached the side of the
yacht; grappled a rope thrown them by one of

he sailors at a signal from Dom Gil, and were
hauled on board, 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.

Dom Gil came to meet them, and his usual
harp, stern face melted into lines expressing a
certain grim kindness as he asked:

“In leez, on s’all be, eh? Ispik ze Ingleez
lak na ’ve. Vere from, you s’all come?”

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

“ Faith, and we shall come home as soon as
we can et there. Is it where we came from?
Out of t e say, be the powers. Wrecked in a
typhoon, and picked up of! a raft by the slavers,
worse luck! ’m Captain Thaddeus O’Sbea, of
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 s’all be all of America here 0
Du ue del Diamantina an’ all. I s’all be Dom Gil
Gra or, Commandante of de Naves Brazil-
iano. Don’t you are feel cold? You s’all be
have close, and s’all see 0 duque. Hola, An-
tonio Senas!” 1

He called the steward and gave him some

rapid directions in Portuguese, when the man ,

beckoned them forward and took them into the
store—room of the acht, down the main hatch,
which they foun supplied with clothes of all
descri tions and nationalities.

Wh e the were being hos itabl entertain-
ed, Dom Gi went down to t 6 on in and re-
spectfully saluted the duke, who asked in his
usual quiet manner:

“Well, Dom Gil?”

“ They are refugees from a wreck, mi senhor;
one Irish, the other an American. The Irish-
man is an ofiloer of the En lish stafl, the other
a civilian. I have sent t em to be dre .
Will you see them i” .

“ Are you sure neither is English?” asked the
duke, slowly.

“I can tel an Englishman like a snake, by
his tongue. Neither is En lis .” .

“ Then let them come in. ’

Dom Gil bowed and left the cabin which he
soon reéntered, leading O‘Shea and Hart. The
duke rose from his lounge with easy politeness
and advanced to meet his guests, saying in
English of the utmost 1purity, and in a soft, low
voice, with only a slig t foreign accent:

“ Gentlemen, I am rejoiced to become the
“I. of your deliverance from those rascals of

 

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

Then he stopped, for O’Shea was staring at
him as if he ha seen a ghost. The jaw of the
Irishman had drop , and his eyes were fixed
gnfil glassy, while he 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 :

gLay 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 breathless] :

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

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

“And has 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 my hand, senhor, to feel if I am
flesh and blood.”

As he spoke be 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 race ever in India?”

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

O’Shea no ded h 5 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 mnrderin’ divils
of slavers strip ed us and left us in the sun till
we were nigh ead. I’m thankful your grace
was here, or maybe we’d be dead b this.’

The Duke of Diamantina smiled n his quiet,
unimpassioned way, and turned the conversa-
tion by speaking to Clarence Hart.

“You are an American scnhor. I am re-
;oiced to see you, for we Brazilians are great

riends of your people. Should I be imperti—
nent were I to ask
plight?”

‘ Not at all, your grace. Our story is soon
told. Captain ’Shea and myself were passen-
gers from Bombay on the steamer Benares, an
old addle-wheel tub, that ought to have been
con emned long a 0. We were caught in a

hoon and the s ip foundered, after the cap-
tain and officers had been swept overboard.
Luckily for me I owned a Boyton suit; and,
thanks to that, I helped O’Shea and two of the
lady assengers off to a raft we made out of the
wrec of the ship’s spars. Next day we were
picked up by that slaver, whose people at onca
put us in ironsand placed the tubes 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. e are very fortunate if they have
not gone already.”

Clarence began to thank the duke earnestly
for his kindness, but Diamantina waved his
hand in a slightin manner.

“My dear sir, t 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
is never certain of them. e quick, Dom Gil,
and some back with the ladies as soon as you
can.

Dom Gil left the cabin while he was speaking,
and.the heard the dash of oars almost im-
mediate y after, showing that the first officer
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 ran
out and returned almost immediately with the
steward, carrying a table ready set with all the
luxuries of a ropical climate, accompanied by
ices tnat made O’Shea’s mouth water, as the
duke said:

“ Your fare on the slaver was in all prob-.

how you came in this

ability not what you are accustomed to, entlc- ,
on will take lune with ;

men. May I hope

me, and honor my li tle boat by taking up your
uarters. here 9”

“Faith, and I’ll own we’re nearly starving.

our grace,” re lied the Irishman, frankly.
“ I’d not be refnsmg lunch any time, and new I
could ate raw beef. ’

“ Then fall to, entlemen,” 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.

“ es, but the ice comes in ships from Amer
icaz and is ver dear.”

‘ My dear s r, it is nothing but a question of
a little trouble. I have my private irovision-
ship that follows me at intervals, and eeps me
supplied. 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
degrees of your Fahrenheit t ermometer,
though it be more than a hundred outdoors, by

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
atomizer-s in the pharmacia—the apotheca ’5?
That is the whole secret of this cool air. a
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 rar, for the love 0’ God.
None of yer hookahs or me, had luck to ’em.
The ’re too much like India,” said O’Bhea,
b1 y. He seemed tobe 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, handing him
a richly-chased silver jar full of the finest
Havanas, “that has been the logic of three
thousand years of con nest in the world. The
robber who carries of! is plunder can spend it
and comeback for more, but he who sits down
over his loot in India is apt to lose it to one
stron er than he.”

O’S ea cackled over his cigar as he lighted it.
He could not enter into t e 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 ng the aroma of the dark to-

o,
“ My dear sir, I w them. My steward

keeps the accountso one estate I have in the

Xlnelta" Abajo, in Cuba, and they come from
ere.

Clarence Hart had been lookin out of the
stern windows while they were 0 atting thus
idly, and saw the white gig of the acht coming
back with Dom Gil Grabador the stern-
sheets, but only accompanied by a single figure
in female attire, closely vailed.

In some agitation he turned to his best, say—

in :

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

“ dear sir,” was the sublimely quiet reply,
“my People never fail. You shall have your
lad riends, unless they are killed before we
fin them, 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
vail, and fell at the feet of the duke, crying:

“ My brave preserver! Heaven bless you for
I saving an innocent maidcn’s honor from the
i rufiian grasp of the infidel Arabs.”

Clarence could not avoid turning away to
conceal a smile, for it was none other than the
Hon. Lorelia, painted in true Oriental fashion,
her e es made large and languishing by touch—
ing t e lids with b ack antimony, her hair ema-
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. Lore-ha Lawton,
transmogrified by the arts of the slave-trader
to present the most captivating up rance of
which she was capable, to attract t 6 eye of a

urchaser. .
p O’Shea, who was behind her. grinned at Dom
Gil, and the iron featurcscf tli',«lLi'eml‘a.n cflicer
softened into a responsi‘ 0 look; but the ex-

 

1

nevor failed him, and he raised the fair Lorelia

 from the ca rpet with his usual Calm blandness,

l telling her:
“Be of good cheer, madame. I am enlytee

 

means of my, ice-spray. I will show you, if you _

onisite courtesy of the Bills of Dialrantina _

    
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

’(.

   
 

._ x...

The Duke of Diamonds.

 

happy to be of any use to a lady of your condi-
tion. 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 i1?” asked the
duke, in Portuguese. .

“The slavers say they will not sell them till

on have id the price for the escaping men.

hey won d on] let me have the old woman.”

It was lucky or the sensitiveness of the Hon.
Miss Lawton that she did not understand aword
of Port uese.

Thed e looked annoyed.

“ Did you not then pay for them?”

“I hardly dared, mt senhor. 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 soul Abdallah. ’ .

Dom il flushed to his temples as he bowed in
answer to his employer, and the duke turned
awa to Clarence saym g, 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 ve up
a valuable prisoner without a full gain.
Madame, permit me.”

CHAPTER VI.
LOBELIA’S WATCH.

Ha offered his arm to the Hon. Lorelia, who
acce ted it with simpering eagerness, and the
whole part ascended to the quarter-deck, where
they foun 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 are of the stairs.

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

The duke smiled in his usual cool indifierent

wa* .

“’1 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, when: 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 thii ty in number, whereof
several were e nipped with the broad-Winged
and curtained itters 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 off 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 delight
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 farm 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
yournfriend to visit Fyzoul Abdallah, in Deree-

ah

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

“ Ile 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

retty 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:

“ nd will they at Helen in a harem, duke?
Shall we never see er again 1”

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

' SS. ’7 I .

buggebowed and went forward to the main

ngway, where a little dried—up Arab, meanly
3mm, was bowin with a proquion of Orien-
tal Compliments atIiis good fortune in behold-
ing the ‘ Golden Prince of all Riches, the illus-
trious Lord from the West who had deigned to
send for Haroun a1 Wahabi, to buy of him the
Pearl of all Pearls.” _ . _
The duke cut short his compliments by saying
coldl : ‘
“ Bliow me the pearl. If I have none larger
I will take “3"va h .mmd .

Hal-01m esi .

“Can In show it to the Great Lord of all

do well  private '1”

 

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.617 .4» '3 sis-‘TEJLa‘uagsus... V «.--S#r, a ._._ i-M‘JK‘W g' “‘k- ‘ . «M ~

 

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

“ It is a. good one, but I have better. Bring
mea match for it, and I will take them. W hose
camels are those going to Dereeyah?”

The Arab was so taken by surprise by the
sudden change of subject that he unguardedly
an5wered:

“ Mine, great lord.”

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

re ly.
This time the Arab screwed up his wizen face

and replied, more ardedly:
“ Does the L0 of Jewels wish to buy her
himself?”

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

A 110.

Rolf I wish to take her I will but speak a word
and kill every man in Tuat ere he can draw his
sword. Answer my question.”

Haroun cringed in awe before this impertur-
bable ma for he knew that the duke s ke the
truth. T e mitrailleurs of the yac t could
have exterminated every living being in Tuat
inside of half an hour. The wily 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 of Dereeyali gave me a commission to find
him awhite girl, oung and handsome, more
than a 'ear a o. f I give her up, now I have
her, I s all be illed by Fyzoul Abdallah’s spies,
unless I leave Arabia forever.”

The duke nodded gravely.

“I see. Then you must leavo it. I will give
you enough to take you away. Name your
price to Dom Gil, and he will pay you when the
g.rl is deli vered.”

He returned to the quarter-deck and looked
out to shore. The loaned camels were moving
ra )idly 01! toward the mountains, and Dom
Gil’s boat was lying on the muddy beach, while
that energetic officer himself cou d be seen hur-
rying to and fro among the Arabs on the shore,
as if full of business.

Haroun the Wahabee scrambled into his boat
and was r0wed 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 sharp eyes
of the lad noticed the simplicity of the time—
piece, a I) ain gold case.

Fullo vanity, 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 watchma er and jew-
eler in his train ‘1”

" I believe so, madame,” was the quietly-
courteous reply; 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,-
gulling 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 mutin , duke i”

Clarence Hart, who ha 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 day. It was a ve handsome toy, of
French make, a repeater an stop-watch in one,
with so many diamonds on the case that it
flashed like 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 lady was proud of it with good
reason and ver fond of displaying it.

This time he atched O’Shea to see if the cap-
tain would show his usual emotion, but noticed
that the Irishman had his eyes fixed 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 pre-
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 holding up the watch.

The duke turned his e 'es full on her with a
serious sweetness that rmcd her.

f‘ 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 i- all, madame.”

“Then look at my watch and tell me what
you think of it.” she continued. 1

The duke took the toy‘in his hands with indif-
ferent courtesy and 100 ed at it closely, watch-

 

 

.5 {1‘43 J."

.

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 be. 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 tra
formed to the likeness of Satan, king of trial:
fallen angelsl 1

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

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

CHAPTER VII.
CLARENCE mum’s STORY.

CLARENCE 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 Ill‘ie duke took him to one side of the quarter-
ee .

“ 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 owe much 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 born.”

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

“I hope so, your grace, for my mother’s
sake,” was the re 1y; “but I sometimes fear I
shall never find him. I have heard by accident,
from Captain O’Shea yond( r, that the rajah,
his master, was executed, under circumstances
of the most—19

He sto ped and gazed in some alarm at the
duke, w ose countenance 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 nothin . I am subjectto
heart," repliedt e other, hastily.
tice it but go on.”

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

“ O’Shea, it seems, commanded the un de-
tachment that killed the poor prince, w o ave
him some present in his last mi merits. I on‘t
know what it was; tut O’Shea seems to he very
bitter over the fact that it was taken from him
by his superiors. From somethin he let drop,
I fancy it may be that very watch iss Lawton
showed us just now. ”

“You are right,” assented the duke, hastily.
“ That is, your con 'ecture is probably correct.
Pra go on, Senhor art.”

“ at is nearly all, 'our grace. I set out
from Bombay in the enares, desponding of
ever seeing my lost uncle; and, 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
stately liteness of a Brazilian noble, the most
polishe people alive.

Clarence hesitated, and a moment later asked
wistfully:

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

“ My dear sir,” was the kind reply, and the
Brazilians face fair] beamed with gracious
softness, “good sons ike you will always find
their reward. Who knows? You may see your
uncle sooner than you expect. Is your father
yet living?”

Clare: ce sighed. '

“A132, no. My mother has been a widow ten

ears.

The duke pressed his hand warmly.

“ We are alike in that, too. I am fatherless, for
twenty long, long (years. Come, senhor, to my
proposition. Doni ‘il Grabador is my manager,
my captain of yacht nimteward of rents, m
factotum; but Dom Gil not what you J

 

sms of the
‘ Do not no-

 

 

  

  

6

   

.

education, save of the world. I am indolent, I;
and I need a Secretar and confldant who can
write my letters and o my friend. \Vill you
take the position and name your own salary?
That is al .”

Clarence noticed that the duke’s English took
on quaint foreign idioms when he talked earn—
estl and be felt so much surprised by the pro-
posxtion that he hesitated.

The Brazilian noticed his embarrassment, and
aid, kindly:

“Think over it, my dear sir, and give me an
answer at your leisure. I see Dom Oil is com-
ing back to report that he has engaged camels.
A very energetic man is Dom (ill. You will
like him. He has been in the United States,
even in Boston, I bel eve. Who dill you say
was this lady in the Sla «or, 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.

‘Miss Helen, daughter of Sir Lumley Law-
ton, Governor of Calcutta."

The duke bummed a low note.

“ So, Sir Luznlcy 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 keep to
your own race. The Hindoos are right. Caste
should never be confused.”

Clarence colored as he retorted:

“English and Americans are one race, your

e.

The duke shrugged his shoulders with a slight
grimace.
“My dear sir, I never argue. Here is Dom
Gil coming on board.”

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

re .

RoTbe old slave merchant has taken of! the
woman to Dereeyah, and I have engaged camels
to foUOW 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 nothing 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
prompt diligence. I will go, Dom Gil. In the
meantime let me introduce to you the Senhor
Clarence Hart, from Boston, who is hunting the
world over to find his uncle Gilbert Carver, of
the same place. Now, my ear friend, consult
with Dom Gil as to the proposition I made

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

He bowed politely, never seeming to notice
that Dom Gil was looking at Ha t in a manner
showing great astonishment, an 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
you co (1 be content in these poor quarters for
a few days? If so, I will ask you to make the

acht your home while we are away. Captain

’Shea you, I believe, have been in the artil-
lery. will ask you to remain in the yacht
while I go after your other friend, Miss Law-
ton. Please take charge of the defense, in case
any of these Arab rascals think to im ose on
you, whil) I am away with the men. en un-
derstan l t‘ie Gltling initraillenr, senhor?”

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

“Not more than a dozen, senlzor. I shall
Want all the rest to cow F yzoul Abdallah.”

“ And how many Gatlings?”

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

()’.‘>bea nodded his head, well satisfied.

“ Bedad, that’senough to bate off any uantity
of the black divils. l‘ll stay, yer hon— mane,
yer grace. ”

Clarence noted that the duke, in speaking to
’O’Shea, took a curb military tone, and that the
Irishman seemed to for at a; times, that he
was no longer in the ran (s, hi’ expressions be—
ing less those of an officer than a common sol-
dier.

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

She is

e.

“ Surely your grace does not intend to leave
me alone in this boati”

The Brazilian bowed with the utmost suavi by.

“ It is a choice, dear madame, between the
yacht and shore. If you do not like better to
return among the Arabs, I should say, stay
here. I hold my osition among these ruflians
only by terror. he y would sack the acht in
one hour were it not for my mitrail ours. I
cannot take you with me, for we shall probably
have to fight our way back, and shall not want
any ladies with us but those with whom it is a
choice between death among the Arabs or peril
withus. You, madame, are safe, here.”

With that, he ran down into the cabin, where

 

The Duke of Diamonds.

he was heard calling to his servants, while Dom l towns hinted that there were rivate wine-cel—
Gil gave some orders in Portuguese, in conse- f lars in Dereeyah, even under yzoul Abdallah’s
quence of which the yacht was soon a scene of castle.

bustle from stem to stern.

In short, the city was the worthy capital of

Men ran up and down the hatches, snatched l W'ahabeeism; for never a laugh was heard in
the cases off the dozen or more Gatlin rrs with , its streets from morning to night, and the sound

which the yacht was armed, and lugved out a '

number of audin decorated came saddles
from the bohf

For about twenty minutes all was seeming
hurry and disorder, though in truth each man
was runnino‘ to his place: and at the end of that
time a flotilla of shore boats moved oil? from the
yacht, carryin a large part of her crew and
great heaps ofgaggnge; While the Duke of Diu—
inantina, accompanitd by Dom Gil Grabador
and Clarence Hart, sat in the graceful white
gigand skimmcdrapidly past the other boats.

larence could not elp agreeing with the
duke’s eulogy of Dom Gil. Tnat person was in-
deeda man of wonderful energy. He had en-
aged every camel in Tuat and sent forward a
fierseman to bid for for:ng on the road had
hired guides and scouts in profusion, and had
the whole caravan ready to start in less than
an hour from the time they had left the yacht’s
deck.

They were a sufficiently formidable array
and armed with all the latest improvements in
weapons of precision, while eight bright gleam-
ing mitrailleurs gleamed 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 yachting suit, was mounted on
a swift dromedary, 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, jacket and full trowsers,
high enameled boots, 8. l of his dress gleamin
with jewels, while the handle of his sword an
the butts of his pistols and carbine fairly blazed
with brilliants.

He looked as if 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 dromedary, went trot-
ting around the caravan, as busy and anxious
0s a hen with a new breed, getting everything
into shape for their journey. Since the dule
had spoken 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 ortugucse—Englis , which Hart
found it convenient to adopt.

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

“The Sultan of Dereeyab has had s ice on
the yacht for a month, and we shall ave a.
fight 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 ABDALLAH.

FYZOUL ABDALLAH, Sultan of the Wahabeo
kingom of Dereeyah whose name is a terror
from Oman to the jowf, was watching his
horses exercise in the park, when his faVorite
slave, Seyd, brought him a letter from Nnbar
a1 Hayzari, (the lel't~handed) his prime minister,
which caused him to smile in a peculiarly evil
fashion and remark pionsly:

“(‘rod 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-
inspirmg to strangers. There was a certain
length and obliquit to his half-closed eyes, a
cruel, sensual curl 0 his red, voluptuous lips,
that told of the irresponsible despot, given to
debauchery.

Yet F yzoul Abdallah was known through all
Arabia as a Wababee of \Vababces, as strict in
his devotions and tastings, urifications and
mayors, as a. Puritan in the ays of Cromwell.

he VVahabees have always been the fanatical
Puritans of Moslemism; and Fyzoul Abdallab
gained his power and popularity by bemg
stricter than any of his predecessors. ;

He was the originator of the renowned Stick
Committee, composed of the most sedate and
sober eldcs of the city of Dereeyah, whose
business itis to patrol the streets while the faith-
ful are at prayer in the mosque, and to punish
an one found outside during prayer time.

e Stick Committee put down all dissent in
Dereeyab by the simple process of beating the
often or within an inch of his life; and never a
villain in all the cit but would run like a bare
when he saw the white beardsof 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
permitted to men of piety—what our Metho-
dists would cad "professing" members of the
church.

Wine was never heard of in public, though
some of the gracoless sinners in neighboring

 

 

l
1

lhe allowed much license.

 

of prayer was incessant. Every face was
grave, every eye downcast, as if at a perpetual
revival meeting.

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

“Allah has given this infidel fool into our
hands, Seyd,” he observcd, to the black, whom
“ It seems that
Ilaronn, the pearl -dealcr, has decoyed him
hither; aftcr a white girl slave that is on the
way.

“She is here,” interrupted Seyd, showing his
white teeth. “The camels “'(‘Y‘e inside the
palace gate, and the white irl had taken of! her
vail the bold huSS ! when saw her.”

“ ndeed ?” aske the kin .

“ Yes, dread lord; and t e elders of the stick
soon made her put up the vail a sin. She look-
ed pale and sick, I suppose wit the heat; but
the soon beat her into submission.”

yzoul Abdallah grinned again.

“ t is Well not to give Women much bead,
Seyd. A stick for the ass and the woman are
never out of place.”

The face of the black was more openly vfl-
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 E Nedjed (The High , are still
more deserving of the appellation given them
by the old geographers, Arabia Fe ix, Ha
Arabia; or as Pope puts it: “ Araby the Blegg ’
With an elevation such as to temper the heat;
abundance of little lakes formed by depressions
in the mountains; a soil teeming with fertility,
the whole face of the country is covered wi h
walled towns, small and great, where the pee lo
maintain today the same civilization w oh
their ancestors taught Europe.

To those who are accustomed to associate
sandy deserts, ragged Bedouins, flocks of cam-
els and redatory tribes with the name of
Arab, a visit to the provinces of Yemama, De-
reeyah and the Djowf wonld 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 entire] on
their own resources, the high—bred Arabs o the
pure old stock remain as they were in the days
of the Crusades, glorying in their lineage, and
calling themselves Arab el Arabah, “ Arabs of
the Arabs.”

Dereeyah is in the richest part of the Nedjed,
a walled city of filty thousand ople, rebuilt
since its destruction by Ibrahim ,13:83 la 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 wind
in and out in their artificial channels to irri-
gate the ficlds of cotton, sorghum, maize, wheat
andbarley; while the air is heavy with the per-
fume of roses, jasmines, and innumerable spice
groves.

Fyzoul Abdallah’s summer palace stands on a.
precipitous bluff that commands most of the
city, and is a large andimposing though gloomy
buildin , built in the to elfth 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 Fyzonl Abdallah keeps his crowning glory
of glories, his horses.

Sanctimonious scoundrel though he be, the
King of Dereeyah can defy the whole world to
show such horses as these. The glory of Epsom
and Monmouth Park, the kings of the turf in
England and Kentuck , cannot compete with
the swift beauties of yzoul Abdallah’s stud.
There are fine horses among the Bedouins of the
Euphrates, handsome chargers in the Djowf;
but the pure Arabian of chjed is above all,
and cannot be purchased for money. Success-
ful. war or a present of ceremony to a distin-
guished person may draw one of these beauties
at long intervals from its native home, but no
foreigner has ever been able to obtain more
than one at a time, 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, ay, bay and chestnut, the latter colors
redommaxtelpg; and a racmg jockey would

ave been y to kneel down and worship ev-
ery one of the slim spirited creatures that can-
tered by, tossing their pointed muzzles to and
fro, snorting and shaking their long silk
manes, looking at their master with their so
dark eyes, and neighing a greeting as they
passed. Such horses would fetch eno h at
auction in New York to bankrupt Vanda- ilt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

g, -‘
f.
"a?

5's

The Duke of Diamonds.

 

But, while we are ecstasizing over the horses

-— 've us, for we love a beautiful horse—Fy—
zoul bdallah is reading over his letter. again
and chucklinor immensely at the news it con-
tains. It reads:

"Fatherof the faithful Wahabees; the Christian
"lord they call the Jeweled Prince is within sight of
Dereeyah, and has sent Haroun the Pearl-Dealer as
his enibassador to ask an audience to ransom the
white girl who has just arrived. He has a numer-
one company with him, but they are not white
devils. I have given him permission tocome into
the cit and we will quarter him in the court below
the ol palace, where We can pick his bones when he
lsasleep.”

The kin was so much pleased with the last
sentence at he read it over aloud to Seyd, re-
marking:

“Nuhar 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,
Seyd?”

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

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

“Guns are no use to sleepers, and if they
Evafi‘yake we shall have the weapons—eh,

yd laughed heartil in the shrill, unnatural
'tones of his class, and t e king turned away to
walk back to his summer castle: when his eye
wascau ht by the glitter of arms at the out-
skirts ofg his own park coming directly toward
the castle.

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

T e black stared that way, as much amazed
as his master. He knew that the waterin
pools lay there and that access to the my
:stud from that direction was a matter punish-
able with death. There, h0wever, plain and
unmistakable in the sun was the glitter of arms;
.and a. crowd of camels and men on horseback
could be seen rapidly advancing over the undu-
lating green k, while the whole of Fyzoul’s
-.stud, huddl into a confused mob, was gal-
loping away from before the advancing cara-

van.

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

Full of anger at the audacious intrusion, Fy-
‘zoul Abdallah 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.
'rnn DUKE’S Visrr.

Frzom. ABDALLAH was unarmed. It had
not occurred to him that he was in any sort of
danger in his own capital, and his uards
. ht to be within easy call. When he alted
Eyr‘i’Iront 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 peo 19 in the caravan kept
right on as if the ha not heard him; and t 0
Wings on each si e rode t him and lapped in
behind, when he found imself surrounded by
-.a circle of armed men, and confronted b it
~ littering figure on a white dromedary, t at

e at once r 'zed from previous description
as the “Lord 0 all Jewels,” the Arabic sobri-
quet for the Duke of Diamantina.

It was the duke himself, with his habitual
slight smile and lazy courtesy, who addressed
the king in good Arabic, marked with the
Cairgrlie accent, as Fyzoul Abdallah per-

oeiv

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

Fyzoul s face underwent several changes of
expression while the duke was speaking, for he
began to realize that he was, for the time be-
ing, in the power of this sin lar man. But he
was too much a master of dissimulation 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 salt to-
gether.” _ ,

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 ”

telligence delighted the ki , who was

Win
It all things avaricious' and henfiurned his

 

horse and rode back to the palace as goodhu- 1

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, my brother,” he asked,
asthey stood there “that you came this way
instead of by the ci y as I had ordered?”

His tone was peculiar, and not unmenacing .

as he said this; but Diamantina looked straight
into his eyes as he answered:

“Becausel am a kin" myself, in my own
land, and I have never asked the Padishah him-
self for an audience. I take no words from
piinisters; I talk to my brother kings face to

ace.

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 purpose
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 retiini, and in the
meantime he was absolutely in the power of
this im sing stranger.

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

“My rother received awhite slave today,
stolen from her own and in people, by Haroun
the pearl-dealer. I hope t at my brother will
allow me to give a ransom for her.”

F zoul waved his hand, loftily.

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

an.

“ Nevertheless,” remarked the duke, tranquil-
lyy, “my brother will sell her to me. Sultan

yzoul knows what are jewels. I will give him
this saber for the girl.”

The king’s eyes glittered with avarice as he
looked at the saber the other took from a slave
and showed him, for the hilt and scabbard were
of old, and blazed with diamonds, 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 unruflled 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 unbldden, on the divan
by the king’s side, at the upper end of the hall,
and Dom Gil w t Clarence and some
thirty men of the yacht’s crew, all armed to
the teeth were firouped near by in the ball
when N ubar al avzari, Is and breathless,
entered the hall in haste, ollowed by a crowd
of excited Arabs, with naked swords in their
hands, and stopped in mute astonishment at the

siglhlils. .

e duke sat close to Fyzoul, and never dei -
ed to turn his head as the Arabs 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 'm
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 uiet tones; but the
quick ear of Fyzoul Abdal ah caught. the click
of pistol-locks all round him, as the Brazilian’s
retinue edged in closer round him.

Two great drops of Sweat rolled down the
king’s forehead, and he answered, in a con-
strained tone:

“ Be it as on will. Tell N ubar a1 anzari,
and he will 0 y the order.”

Diamantina beckoned to his little black slave,

, who handed him a piece of paper, covered with

Arabic words, together with. an ink-horn of true
Arabian fashion.

“ My brother’s signet on this ordcr will bring
Elieqslave,” he said, quietly, “and the saberis

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 gave a heav sigh and took off his
si‘gnet ring, with which e stamped the paper,
a tera hast perusal. It was an order, ready
written, ca ing 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,
completely dumbfounded, stood hesitating whe-
ther to tight or not. The long lanky Brazilian
waved the paper before him and spoke aloud:

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

The sound of their master's name had a magi-
cal effect on the Arabs, for Nubar bowed his
face tothe earth immediately and the uards
sheathed their swords in silence as Dom il con-
tinued:

“M master, the king of Jewels, has come to
visit iis brother. the kin of Dereeyah. My
master’s men will guard 1the king while they
are talking over a treaty between their king-
doms. In the meantime conduct me where this
order tells you.”

Nubar a1 Hayzari placed his hands on his
, head in token of obedience and preceded Dom
i Gil from the room, while the duke turned to
the king and resumed their interrupted conver-
' sation as if at home on his 'acht.
“M brother is Very 'ind to me and I
shouh like much to See his horses. W ill Sul—

pla ed?”

he kin eagerly assented, for he was proud
of his stu an longed to be on horseback once
more. He flattered himself they could not trap
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 kee
back a cry of delight and wonder as the beauti-
in] creatures were trotted out for inspec-

ion.

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, positive] y 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 pig-y, and I would not like to
lose you. You s ride one of these horses,
but not now. The .Wish to entice you away
and hold on for a ostage.”

To the ing he said coolly 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 for us. They are the
flewer of the stud.”

The duke made no objection and at a ‘ 1
from Fyzoul the rooms led forward a y
stallion with blue points whose grace and
symmetry exceeded anything the other had
ever seen before. This v\ as Al Babok (the
Swift), who, if his looks belied him not, was the
king of all horses. Beside him was a mare,
equally beautiful but of a delicate bluish

y, who went by the title of Hamama (the
ove.)

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 groom:

“ Fool, that’s not Hamama, I mean. It was
Al Kader (the Clever One) that I bid thee
bring. Saddle quick] .”

This time it was a c estnut horse much like
Al Sabok that came forward, but here again
the duke's eye critical] examining the animal
saw the streaks of the 'ng—iron inside the OE
hock. He said nothing, however, till the king
oourteously waved him forward, saying:

“Mount, my brother. Al Kadcr is a swallow
for d, a out for his sure fet t.”

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

And in a moment he was in the saddle. '

Fyzoul Abdallah’s face contorted itself into a
hideous writhing smile of disappointid malig-
nity as he slowly mounted Al Kader, for he
: w that his plan was discovered, but he made

0 remark as the duke rode out into the park,
leavin Clarence Hart in command of the -

indside w ' 9 their camels were lying down out-
51 e.

The king noticed with wonder the bright
mitrailleurs on the saddles of some of the
camels. He understood their use at once, for
the Persians have used camel guns called 2am-
bourcks for more than a century, but the pecu-
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 side, and
instantly the gun was slewed round on its swivel
and Winted 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 par
and I can mow them down like grass with those
my guns. ‘See that tree yonder. My man shall
cut 1t down.”

He pointed out the treeto the artilleryman,
to whom he spoke in Hmdostanee, and the man
saluted res tfully, pointed his gun, and turn-
ed the cra of the already loaded machine.

The effect on the sultan was complete. He
saw the steady stream of bullets go slappin
into the little tree with a ceaseless flow till
toppled and fell, and his face turned of a gray
pa or as he said, falteringlliy:

“ This isnthe work of Eb ' You are a mighty

clan.

T e duke stopped the firing with one of his
silent signals.

“ That is onlfito show you what I can do if I
am attacked. ere comes my oflieer with the

 

woman, I see.”
Dom Gil was indeed coming back.

tan Fyzoul give orders to have them disc .

ple of he acht, gathered around the hall oor '

 

..,~

The Duke of Diamonds.

 

x Ir

CHAPTER X.
ran FLOWER or CALCUTTA.

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

“ me, my brother, on have lost a trouble-

' some woman and gain a faithful sword. Let

us go in.”

The barbarian—for Fyzoul was after all, a
barbarian—was sufficiently cowed by the civil-
ized man to ield in silenCe, and the duke rode
up to the hal door and dismounted after the
king, who tamely reentered the castle.

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

‘ Seize hem at once.”

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

l.

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 off her vail that
Senhor Hart may be able to see if she is his
friend.”

Immediate] 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
lan age in such a scene was great.

T 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 fora moment with undis uise
admiration and sur rise, and then asked Iart:

“ 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 fix-
ing his 9 es on hers while s 3 spoke, as ifin
paying 5 rict attention- but there was some-
thing 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, unrufflcd ease
which alwa s marked him, bowed low before
her and rep ied:

“ Ma dear ladee, I am charmed to be able to
do a slig .t service to one so well known as the
daughter of that eminent person, Sare Lomley

wtone."

She looked up in qiiick surprise.

“Oh sir, do you now my poor darling fa-
ther? What would he say if he knew the dan-
ger I have run? Perhaps you have a father,
too, your grace?”

Diamantina’s face altered, and a reserved, of-
fended expression crossed it as he turned away,

sayilnlg curtly:
‘ y father is dead, mademoiselle.”

Fyzoul Abdallah had listened to this English
conversation in dumb embarrassment, still sur-
rounded by the duke’steople, 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
appearance chatting with the jeweled chief,
and they did not dare to make a fight on ac-
count of his risk.

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

ards to surround their king once more in the
$11, which they eagerly hastened to do. He
laid the jeweled saber at F zoul’s feet, and
drew back to the door of the all, 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 brother the presents I have brought to De-
ree ah.”

ut, already Fyzoul Abdaliah was a different
man. His guards were round him and n we of
retreat was open; so that his fears vanis ed
and his malice arose in arms. He had been
cheated and cowed b this stran er, and had
bought himself out of is ower. ow was the
time to be revenged. urning to Nubar al
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 slipped away among the
guards while Fyzoul replied to the duke in his
most oily manner:

“ Mt us not think olf‘presents when one great
king visit: another. y brother must eat with

‘ m at once. Ho! Boyd, bring in the dishes

 

uickly. The Lord of Jewels dines with the

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 mi ht 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 poswssions by the safe way of pomon
rather than trust to 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

eeg away all the robbers on the road.”

T 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 fol owers that ha been loaded
with ammunition. The donkeys were all un-
saddled, but the riding camels were still hand-
somely caparisoned, and over the housings of
the foremost—the same lately ridden by the
duke—was hung a splendid robe 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-
actl how he knew not; and his guards instinc-
tive y drew their clinetcrs to keep off the irrup-
tion of beasts of burden.

The duke stood alone in the o n 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
i 1 Sabok myself. I leave you Al Kader and
Hamwma, Thc y were very good animals, twen-
ty years ago.”

'lnen 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

)ossession, vanishin with the speed of the wind
in the direction of t e Tuat road!

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

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

Then N ubar al 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.

“All is not lost, my master: tit-y can go no
faster than the camels with the lumbuureks '
(thus he called the Gatlingsl. “ We can ta e
them all back in the passes. Al Kader will
stand a day’s work, yet. ’

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

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

.“ On my head be it."

A moment later he was flying toward the city
like the wind. Al Keller had been fired for a
spavin, it is true; but no one would have
dreamed of it to see the way the beautiful crea-
ture skimmed over the ground as swift at
twent two as the best colt in the berby entries.

In t e meantime, as Nubar had from the first
predicted the caravan of Diamantina could ad-
vance no faster than the pace of the camels that
bore the Gatling guns; which, with their sad-
dles and riders, weighed about four hundred
pounds. A 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 eat distress.

Nevert eless Dom Gil, who had assumed the
management of the caravan, kept u a rapid
amble all that afternoon, till the sha es of eve-
ning closed around them, when the camels be-
gan to flag and fall, and a halt was called.

it was in an open valley, where a large spring
gave birth to a running rivulet, that the carn-
van of Diamantina now went into camp, the
gun camels being unloaded, and the deadly mi-
trailleurs trained to command all the approach-

es.
Not an Arab had been seen a1 day, and Hart
remarked to the duke:

u

 

"my,

“ We seem to have given them the slip at last,
senhor duque.”

Diamantina smiled as he answered, in his;
tranfluil way: ‘

“ y dear sir, our danger begins to—ni ht.”

“Then do you think there is danger ghat we
ma not reach the coast?”

‘ My dear sir,” was the quiet answer, ” we
shall reach the coast—some of us. It is a ques~
tion how many will do it, alive.”

CHAPTER XI.
rm: 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 e one might expect
from one of his luxurious bits.

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.

Duringthe rapid ride from Dereeyah, Clarence
Hart ha not had a single opportunity to speak
to the woman he loved, though he had longed
inexpressibly, to do so. He had seen her pla
by t e duke's own hands on one of Fyzoul'a
horses, and, from that t‘ me forth, Diamantina
had remained close to her side, from which the
res .ct 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 engage er in conversation. He
tried to argue with himself that he was the
Brazilian’s equal, that he had not yet acce ted
the post of secretary to the whims of a mil ion-
aire. It was all in vain. A subtle influence that
he could not divine, kept him divided from the
woman heloved, and he was com elled to ride in
the rear, out of earshot, while elen was con-
versin in the most animated manner with this
gilendidly handsome man, this combination of
roesns and Adonis, who could do anything he
leased with almost any woman he met, as.

arence bitterly thought.

In fact, the young men, having once saved
this girl’s life and having good reason to believe
that she was not indifferent to him, was now
miserably jealous, and be an to feel all the love
and admiration he had to t for Diamantina rap—
idly turnin to‘bitter hatred.

Neverthe ess, such was the fascination of this
sin ular man over all around him, that no soon-
er (id Hart listen to his melodious “ Ma dear
sure,” and see his wonderful smile when he spoke
to him at the bait, than all his uneasinem van—
ished to the winds, and he felt ready to follow
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, except by the duke’s little black boy, who
took them in their supper.

Clarence would have fretted at this, had it,
not been for the exquisite tact of the duke, who
kept him in conversation, asking him his opin—
ion of this and that, strolled with him round
the defenses of the little camp, and gave him
charge of two of the uns, with the remark:
“ M dear sir, I shall ho (1 you responsible if the
Ara get in on your side. We have a precious
treasure to guard, and we must not go to sleep,
or Fyzoul Abdallah will wake us up when the
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
er 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 he precious to you;
but, I warn you, keep from her, as you value
your happiness! She shall be saved, and I will
give her back to her father, if it costs me the
1ves of every man here. But, take my advice,
and think no more of this lady.”

Clarence looked at the Brazilian in some sur-
prise, and managed to ar swer:

“ Why do on say this to me your grace?”

“Because see that you are bent on making.
yourself miserable,” was the quiet replly. “ My
dear sir, you are an American, and love a l
Americans for the sake of on -. to whom I owe
milife and liberty. You do not know these Eng-
lis as I do. Sir, they are as cruel as tl‘e t er,
as selfish as the swine. Do you think that his
Sir Lumley Lawton would give vou his daughter
because you lrved her and she loved Von? No
no, my car sirl That man would sell his chi
to Satan himself, if the dark gentleman would
put on the likeness of a lord with plrntee mom's.
Sir, be advised. Leave these English to them-
selves, for there is a curse u n them—a curse
that will get wither and b ast them to ashes
and dust! . '

The American gazed With wonder on Dian
mantlna, for his usually calm and frigid mu.
nor had changed to one of intense earn

 

   

‘Al

 

 

 

 

 

- '3 mix

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Duke of Diainionds.

 

 

and his eyes glowed like burning coals as he
gesticulated w1th true southern fervor.

“ Ah your ,” returned Clarence, in a
melancholy tone, “ I know that I have little or
no hope in loving this lady, but my heart is
stro er than my sense. I cannot help loving
her. a she not ovely?”

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

“ My dear sir, I never ar 0. Be pleased to
see to your duties on this si e the campt.l These
men understand English. Most of cm are
Lascars or ex-sepoys. ’

With a slight military salute he left Clarence
to his own devices, and strolled off to the other
sideof the camp, where he could be seen in close
conversation with Dom Gil.

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

he cam was laid out with a strict view to
defense. he horses were fastened around an
inner square, eatin their barley with the vigor-
ous appetite of Ara inns, and around them was
drawn a chain of sentries each man sheltered
behind a little ile of sadd es 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 foes, though
as et 5iey had seen none.

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

he 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 uque say no. Ze Arab-a s’all-a
come-a dat vay, ’e be 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-
m I N

om Gil laughed.

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

Re lled again, for Dom Gil’s manner was de-
cid ly 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.

A The moon was now hanging just above the
mountains that hid them from Dereeyah and
had not more than five minutes to stag when
the whole valley suddenly started into 'fe with
a motley throng of Arabs coming from the hills
all round. on horseback, on foot and camel~
back, rushing to and fro, yelling loudly and
firing into the camp.

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

As lon 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 they came with a swoo , and Clarence
could see their white cloaks fli 'ng past within
a few yards, while the bullets from their long
muskets went singing overhead.

But all this while the camp remained per-
fectly silent.

The 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 the were saved a moment later.
Up from the mi st of the camp soared a rocket
With a sudden hiss that scared the Arabs, who
had never seen an thing of the sort before, and
when it exploded t left in the air not merely a
shower of stars but a blue Li ht nded from
a tin rachute that illum ned t e valley for
severa hundred y round, discovering a
swarm of Arabs.

CHAPTER XII.
RUNNING rim emu.

IN'ro this mass of foes at pistol range, eight
Gatlings and some forty Winchester rifles sud-
denly opened fire, pouring in a storm of missiles
that cleft the mass as a stream of water might
dimolve a bank of new-fallen snow! '

Only an instant they stood and then fled in
wild confusion. the itiless 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 am-

ma s. _

For a little while the noise was deafening, and
then the lights went out and silence fell. over
the camp only broken by the pitiful cries of
the wounded outside left behind by their com-
rad

ea.
Clareneehadbeentoobus athisownpostto
attend to an thin else, and e was considerably
ear 0 voice of Diamantina close

. dartladto
” mnmmmm-m.

 

“ My dear sir, the will not come back to-
night. They will ma 6 their next stand in the
Pass of El katif.”

“ Is your grace satisfied of that 1”

“So much so that I am cing 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-
nin , but they have trained them too well to
frig ten at firing. Those horses will buy us the
road to the sea, my dear sir.”

And the facts proved Diamantina 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 off, while the whole country was desert-
ed'I-‘fgr miles. ed 1 . 1 th _

e roceed eisure y on em way, pass-
ing anyzgrab village and a town of no mean pre-
tensions, in both of which they saw nothin but
women and children; and noticed that al the
operations of tigriculture seemed to be entirely
suspended. very ableebodied 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 among rocks in the
ruins of an old castle, and found to their sur-
prise a store of barley for the horses with an
Arabic legend above it to the effect:

“ llah 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 et
them back. Clarence could not wonder at
anxiety when he looked at the beautiful crea-
tures round him. They were born war-horses.
Not a symptom of fatigue appeared in any one
of them, thou b they had marched forty miles
a day. On t e contrary, most of them were
fretting for a gallop in the evenin , and he felt
certain that but for the gun came , they could
have been at Tuat in a single day’s ride.

No disturbance came near them that night
nor in the mornin till they had come within
about ten miles 0 Tuat, and appmached the
ggefof the Highlands by the narrow pass of El

t.

i .

Here at last they found their foes to the num-
ber of several thousand men, horse, Root and
camel riders spread over the rocks around the
pass and ev1dently determined to stop further
advance.

Clarence looked at them and felt a sinking of
his heart for it seemed impossible for their lit-
tle handful of men to make any head against
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 e ually
willing to talk peace, for they did not offer to
fire, and a 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:

“ Will the Lord of Jewels yield? I do not
wish to kill my brother.”

“ My master demands free for him-
self and his men to the sea,” was Dom Gil’s only

replfi.
‘ e has stolen my horses. Will he give
them up?” asked Fysoul. '

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

“ Will he give them u then?”

“ He will, all but a orse and two mares,
which he retains as an indemnity for the attack
on his camp.”

“ Then he shall nevereee the coast,”cried Fy-
zoul, indignantly. “I will cut out his heart
with my own hand.”

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

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

Fyaoul 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 ofiicer, harshly. “ e
are about to advance in column through your
army. If they draw back and let us pass to
our ships we will turn the horses loose on the
beach for you. If you conclude to d ht each
man has an order to shoot his horse ead and
make a breastwork of his body, after which we
shallltniow your people down aswe did the other

miyzoul’s eyes glared with malice and terror
co‘mlbfmed. kill h I 11 u
‘ on my ones, wi roast on a
alive,”lie hissed. y
Dom Gil threw forward his carbine with a

laugh. «
‘Sayanothvwordlikethatandlshoot

 

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

But Fyzoul was not the man to fight a ready
foe. He preferred murderi an unwary one.
Moreover, he did not like t 9 looks of Dom
Gil’s gun pointing at him.

“Why should we quarrelf’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 horses and march through
on foot.”

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

e reluctantly consented to the terms im .

Ten minutes later the Arabs had left t e pan
free and the whole of Diamantina’s caravan de-
filed safe] y through, each mounted man holding
a cocked pistol close to the head of his incur...
while the Arabs watched the maneuver in
dumb disma .
satBefore night they had reached the yacht in

e .

ty __

CHAPTER XIII.
n. x. s. ssarrna.

Comsnim Owns Lawron, R. N., was
cing the weather side of the quarter-deck 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 for
her homeward voy e.

The Snapper had 1) out two years cruisihg
of! 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 0 slave-trade on the
east coast of Africa. \

“ I’ve earned my furlough, by Jove!” he re-
marked to Iiieutenant Sloman his executive
officer about fifteen times a day “ and by
Jove I‘ve got a right to cr0w over the others. ’

To which Sloman invariably replied:

“I think so too, captain.”

Commander Lawton was known in the ser-
vice by two appellations. His superiors called
him “ a promising officer ;” his sunordinates, es—

ially those before the mast, voted him to be

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

per domineering, and he was but little liked,
though his ability was respected.

As he walked the quarter-deck of the Snap-
per, his sharp, haughty 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-raififor 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 from the
fore cross-trees:

“Sail ho!”

“ Where, where?” he asked, sharply, match
ing iflhis glass in a moment.

‘ ree points off the lee bow, sir. Looks like
a felucca goin to Aden.”

The ca tain eveled the glass in the direction
indica ,and beheld three white lateen sails
shining in the sun some twelve miles away,
trimmed flat as if the felucca was going tocross
hiscourse.

“Crack on all she’ll bear, Sloman, and tell
the en 'neer to get u steam,” said the captain
to his rst emcer, an the crew of the Snap r

an to spreada number of staysails, while 0
sto ers down below raked out the ashes from
the banked-up fires under which the Sna
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
weather-gage of t e felucca, and the ggliah
boat soon began to glide through the water at a
bi h rate of speed. -
or the next half-hour the captain saidlmt
little, but at the end of that time the screw be—
gun 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 capto

report:
‘ Steam up, sir, and omycoal for an hour’s
full head.”

“Very , Mr. Grimes- put on all you can
and drive er ahead. We’ll catch that fellow
before you ’ve out.” _

In fact t 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 felucca, which Lawton was
chasing as much for the vanity of showing the

of his vemel as for an ulterior purpose.

But, tothe surprise of ommander Lawton,
afteran hour had pamed, and the revolutions
of the screw became few and feeble, the white
sails of the felucca seemed as distant as ever,
and they became convinced that the fins
:33. at last beaten by some Arab sang

  

  

IO

 

' The Duke of Diamonds.

 

 

" And et, I never saw an Arab with such
white sai s ” observed Lawton to Sloman.

I “I shou d sa she was a Greek xebec, goin
back through t e canal after takin a cargo 0
wine to Bombay,” replied the first 0 car. “ I’ve
heard that Greek wines are coming into fashion
in India. ”

“Greek or Arab, she sails like the very l
’deuce,” retorted Lawton, impatientl . “ If we
couldn’t liit her under steam shell drop us
‘now. Haul the screw out of water, sir. It’s
doing no good 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 ma
be a'slaver for all I know. Clap on more sa ,
“I. I

The Snapper heeled over under her pile of
canvas till the water washed in at the lee soup-
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 eyes just as the white and yellow
outlines of the Arabian coast began to rise in
the northeast.

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 thutt e began to make any per-
ceptible gain on the 19 ucca, and then they no-
ticed it had shortened sail and was running into
the Red Sea as if distrusting shoals.

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

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

Here one of the midshipmen who had been
hovering near looked so knowing that Lawton

“ Well, youn gentleman, what is it?”

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

“ That vessel?”

“Yes, sir.”

“ How do you know i”

“Please, 811‘, 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
gunboa That felucca was lying at Suez then
with a b g ship for tender. ” .

“ A big ship for tender? What do you mean,
roun r?”

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

The captain looked at Sloman in a doubting

manner.

“Do on think he knows what he’s talking
about, gloman?”

“Yes, sir; Mr. Young has always been a re-
liable youn officer.”

“Then w o is this richest fellow in the whole
vorld, Mr. Young?”

“I don’t know his nanm, sir, but they say
he is a Brazilian and owns a whole lot of
dDiamond mines. They called him the Diamond

uke.

“ I’ve heard of him, now Mr. Young speaks,
sir. He’s a great friend of the Khedive and his
Yankees, but the sa he hates the English, for
some reason or ot er.

“ Well, whoever he be, we’re likely to know

rettysoon,”answeredthecommander,thought-

1y, “for we’re coming up with him now,
hand over hand.”

And in fact while the were talking they had
lessened their distance mm the felucca to less
thanamile, when the Snapper yawed, fired a
gun and showed the En lish flag.

As the smoke drif away :10 leeward the
light report of an answering gun of small size
came from the felucca and u went the red and

ellow flag of Portugal and rail at the end of
£10 yacht s main-yard. .

Still, however the vessel ke t on runmng,
with only jib and mainsail u a on what they
could nowsee from the dec of t e Snapper
looked like a line of breakers.

After a little while she was seen to glide
through a een opening, when the Snapper
found herse f compelled to shorten sail at he
ver moment the felucca put up her foresail
andyspanker, toavoid running into one of the
coral reefs that infest the whole of the Red

However, the advantage glued by the lead-
ership of the yacht was not be thrown away,
and when the gunboat passed through the same
channel as the felucca they were still within

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

The old lieutenant stared.

“A shot, sir?”

“I believe my English is lain, Mr. Sloman.
A shot, air, 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
ori ple him. I want to board the fellow.”

or the last time Sloman ventured a remon-
strance.

“fife, shall catch it for this, sir, if that be a

ac .

“ I take the responsibility, sir.
at once.”

Sloman touched his cap, ave the necessary
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 like a locomotive under full 8 d went
skippin over the waves and pametfexgght be-
tween t e yacht’s masts.

The effect was immediate, and Commander
Lawton closed his stron white teeth in a m
wolfish sort of smile as t e felucca wore s ort
round on her heel and came bowling back to-
ward the Snapper.

“I thought we’d brin that fine gentleman to
his senses, he remark , witha chuckle. “ Now
we’ll see what he’s made of. ”

Sloman volunteered no remark, and looked as
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
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 gassed till he had climbed the
side by a rope astily thrown from the g-
way, and then he inquired of the officer 0 the
deco who met him at the gangway:

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

“ er Majesty’s gunboat Snapper, Ca tain
Lawton,” answered the officer, impressive y.

The American’s face had been very stern and
stiff before, but it softened immediately he
heard the captain’s name as he asked:

“ Any relation to Sir Lumley Lawton i”

“His son, I believe,” was the reply.

“Then be kind enou h to say that Mr. Clar-
ence Hart, late of the . S. navy, would like to
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 b no 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 bgaever%name ess rover that chooses to
hoist a . be are you, sir, and ,what is
your boat t ere?”

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

“I was an officer of the United States ha a
few months ago, sir,” he answered firm .
“ The felucca is the yacht of his grace, the Dixie
of Diamantina, who demands an apology for
your insult in firing a shotted gun over h s head
just now.”

“ Does he, indeed i” retorted Captain Lawton,
with a broad sneer. “ And do the ex-ofiicers of
your navy act as messengers for scurvy Portu-
guese dukes?”

Heft took no notice of the insult, but went on,

uiet : '

“ Ifythe apology is not ven, he will sink this
vessel in one minute; for e 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 em wers his
vessel toact as a ship-of-war, and e already
has his to oes pointed at you. Do you re-
fuse to apo ogize?”

“ Wh , curse hisimpudencel” sputtered Law-
ton, wh 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 holein

our bottom. Secondly, the duke has saved 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.

“ hat do you mean!” he asked, in a man-
ner indicating great excitement.

“I mean t at I wasapassenger on the Be-
nares with the Misses Lawton; that the shi
foundered two weeks ago: that we were pick
u of! a raft by a slave dhow; and that but for
t e Duke of Diamantina, your sister would to-
day be aslave in the harem of Sultan Fysoul
Abdallah. Now, Captain Lawton, do you feel

Do as I order

will you make honorable amends to the Duke
of Diamantina?”

While he was speaking, Lawton’s face was a
study of conflicting emotions. Pride, shame
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 for a Greek slaver or smug-
g er.

To this lamely self—evident lie Hart made no
answer except a silent how: an he was tnrnin
ttg go back when Captain Lawton forced himselg

sa :

“ xcuse me, Mr. a—a—”

“ Hart, Captain Lawton.”

“ l beg pardon, Mr. Hart, but would on be
so as to tell his grace that I shall 0 my-
sel 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 'g, reaching the yen t
and reporting to the d e as the English boat
touched the water.

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

bows:

“The dog begs. Draw her teeth 1”

Then he turned to Hart, who was now recog-
nifiedi as a full-fledged member of his suite, and
as e :

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

“ He is Captain Owen Lawton, brother to the
youn lady m the cabin, your grace, and com-
mantfi the Snapper.”

Diamantina’s eyes lighted u with an expres-
sion that Hart could not fat om, as he said,

slowhl‘y:

“ ydear sir, it only needs the father now,
to ma e all the famil complete. And this is
the honorable son of t e honorable Sir Lumley!
Aha! it is well.”

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

 

CHAPTER XIV.
ON GUARD.

“I mm: come, as I told your friend Mr.
Hart, to express my sincere regrets for the mis-
take which ed me to fire at your vessel d e,”
began Commander Lawton, with mellifluous
courtesy. “ I trust your ce will accept the
apol in the spirit in wh ch it is offered, for I
hear t at 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
smiles but did not offer to take the other’s ex-
tended hand.

“ I was charmed to be of some little service to
a lady in distress, senhor. It is hard] 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 oflicer con-

es. 1
e on see, su pose your grace has
had enodg trouble wit my family by this

time. Perhaps I’d better take charge of my sis-
ter :11 self, you know.”

“ The way to the cabin is open, senhor,” was
the frigid reply; “but remember that the
doubt of my honor which the removal will
imply is an offense to‘the individual which no
apologgcan wipe out. ’

lLaw n :tgredkat this dark, hgidsome man,
w osegrea ac eyeswere um I so s1
and found them glowin like coals all they m

his own. Then all the. londe blood in his own
veins u to resent the implied menace,
andehiis own erce blue eyes widened as he re-
tort :

“As you please, sir. I shall at least ask her

brother.”

“ You will find the ladies, your aunt and your
sister, in the cabin, senhor,” replied Diamantina,
as coldly as before. “Senhor Hart will show
you the way.”

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

“Why, Owen, is that you? Where did you
spring from i”

“ From the quarter-deck of the Snapper, amt.
Where’s Helen?”

The captain could see that his respected aunt
was not over oyed to see him for her greeting
was decided cool. Owen Lawton was ten
years older t an his sister Helen and his ag
pearance by the side of aunt Lorel was a t
raise doubts as to the youthfulness of the on-
orable and kittenish maiden.

 

 

t.
8liugtlndgodomineering ways of Commander
lawton cropped out. 4

disposed to rsevere in a wanton insult against
the law of Iligation, and a friendly power, or

. The sound of his voice, however b ht
Helen out of the state-room to which 3%

I

if she prefers to remain here or go with her

.— uwa ‘M‘n a».

.-_. \“ro- . A.

 

 

 

 

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mww m fl... -.

Adana»...

., ,e. ‘ A"...— Mum”
. v

.M‘» ‘ ‘

 

l

The Duke of Dianionds.

11.

 

 

retired, and she flew to embrace her brother ! replyof the duke. “ Do the ladieswish to leave

with real affection for Helen was fond of the l the achtf”

captain, who had always tted her. i “ by no, in fact——ah—if your
4

is dis- , him

“ Isn’t he the living image of what his father
was, the spalpeen? ’1] never be ’asy till I get
opposite to me with a ir of saw-hand es-

Why, Owen,” she sai , after the first greet-  gosed to be troubled with them t' 1 you reach 5 between the two of us. Di n’t he once strike
ings were over “ was it our ship that fired at ; uez—ah—I don’t like to impose on your cour- l me, the little villain, and I a soldier in the ranks
I); ] as couldn‘t strike back? Don’t let’s talk of it

us just now? I was frig tened to death. And 3 teiy, (you know, but, ah—in fact—”

after the duke had been so kind and generous ‘ n Owen Lawton, bold and reckless as he

tousalll Why, he’s taking us to Suez to meet 3 was, somehow broke down before this quiet,
” 1 dark gentleman, whose voice was so soft.

“To meet my father? Why, has Sir Lumleyl “ I have not complained of the trouble,
I

left Calcutta?” asked Owen. senhor,” replied Diamantina, slowlv. “ I shall
“ So the told us on the Himalaya, which we take the ladeestoSuez and thenceto Cairo,where
spoke ofl {{uscat. They had news of the loss I hear Sare Lomlee is now engiazged making in-
of the Benares, and he set off at once to look for uiries about his daughter. on will stop at
me—and oh, Owen! have you heard what a ter- airo, senhor?”
rible time we had? saved from drewning by “Of course, if my sister be there when I get
Mr. Hart and from the Arabs by the duke. ! to Suez,” hastily answered the other. ‘
You can thank them that you have any sister The duke fixed his dark eyes on the blue orbs
at all, sir, for I never thought to see any of you of the Englishman and spoke very slowly and
again.” distinctly: .
“Well, Helen,” said her brother, a little ! “ I shall expect tosee you at Cairo, capitan,
awkwardly, “ I’m sure I’m ve much obliged 1 if you stop at all.”
to them and all that sort of thing, but I think I ‘
ou’d better shift yourself and aunt Lorelia on I at a loss to understand.
board the Snapper at once. It’ll be more proper, l “ I shall be at my house, and shall expect to
you know.” I hear from on on your arrival,” continued the
Here aunt Lorelia burst out: I duke, in t e same measured tones. “Salut,
l

“Indeed, we’ll do no such thin , sir. If Isenhor.”
we’re not roperly accommoda here, I ‘ He lifted his cap with naval courtesy and
should like 3) know where you’ll find a nicer Owen Lawton went back to his vessel; then the

place!” two parted company almost immediately, one

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

I
l
l
l
l

Hart. I’ll bethe death of that blackguard, yet.”

Clarence made no more remarks, for he saw
that the Irishman was thorough] worked up
by his thoughts of old days, before ewas made

" an officer and a fltleman by the flat of a simj

. ple litt’le widow

E

l

 

“Yes, but I don’t know this duke,” persisted i heading for Aden and coal, the other for Suez l

the ca tain with true British obstinacy. ! and the canal.

“I sfiould think not, from the way you tried  The breeze held stron from the desert all
to kill him and all of us,” retorted aunt Lorelia. day, and within an hour rom the time Captain
“Let me tell you that he is a gentleman who Lawton left the yacht, the Snapper was hull
moves in any society he pleases, and that if you 3 down on the horizon, while the felucca was
cannotsee the advantages of knowing him, your ; liding away'to the north at sixteen knots an
father will pot be so mad. Helen is in my . our, parting the short waves with her knife-
charge, and don’t intend to move from here , like prow in a soft hissing gurgle as she sped
till I meet Lumley at Suez.” i alon .

“ And do you refuse to come, Helen?” asked In another hour the British ship was a mere
Captain Owen, sharply, of his sister. ck on the horizon and then she disappeared

‘ Don’t put it that we , Owen, please. Papa , a together, while the duke and his nests sat
nt me in aunt Lorelias char when we left 1 down to dinner under the awningof t e yacht’s

 

ndia, and we cannot leave t e duke’s yacht quarter-deck.
without a gross rudeness: can we, dear?” ‘ Clarence Hart felt much more happy and at
“As you please,” returned Owen, constrain- f ease since the yacht had been at sea. In the
edly, for it went sorely against the grain with 3 first place his naval experience made him feel
him toyield any int, however unreasonable. l more at home on the water, and second] he
“Then suppose ’d better take my leave and ‘ saw Helen constantly since he had accep the
follow you to Suez." I post of secreta to the duke.
“ Nay, Owen, don’t look offended, dear. Have i By some subt e and indefinable influence Dia-
ou been introduced to Mr. Hart and the duke? ‘ mantina had managed to keep him separ
here are they, aunt?”

y who signs herself “ Victo-i
rla R.

He had evidently felt afraid to trust himself
on deck, in presence of Lawton, while restrain-

: ed by the hospitality of Diamantina from any of-

fensive act, and the American thought to him-
self, with some wonder, that this Lawton famil
had a good many bitter enemies, notwithstan —
in their 'tion in societ .

or himself he felt that he hated Owen Law-
ton positively aunt Lorelia negative] , Sir
Lum ey vaguely but expectantly; wh' e for
Helen, he had a mixture of pique and wounded
pride, forced admiration and involuntary ten-
derness, such as an other man would have in-
terpreted as being ‘ over head and earsin love.”

\

CHAPTER XV.
THE PRINCESS MELAPET‘ROS.

THE Cairo of 1877 is much changed from the
Cairo of Mehemet Ali of forty years ago. The
shrieking locomotive now whirls the traveler in
from the flat and marshy country of the Nile

; Delta, covered with a maze of irrigatin canals,

to a fine station, surrounded with a ens and

1 suburban villas, from whence broa macadam-

ized streets, bordered with handsome houses and
shops, lead into the old city, behind its frown-

' ing walls. The Ezbekiah and Ismailiah where

l

the forei population of the city chiefly reso
are han some modern quarters, with gas an
water, paved streets and public gardens, all as
different from the tumble-d0wn rottenness of
the “ Arab quarter,” as can be conceived.

In the most fashionable part of the Ezbekiah'

uarter, looking out on the garden with which
t e Khedive adorned the city in 1867, stands a
large and handsome house, such as one sees on
the Boulevard Montmartre, in Paris, or Fifth
aVenue, in New York.

Large enough to hold forty or fifty room or-
nater French in st le, surrounded with gar ens

ated 3 of its own, jealous y walled in from view, this
from Helen till he had formally announced his l house was known throughout all Cairo in 1877

“Hart, as soon as he had ushered the British  readiness to serve the duke. and immediately ‘ as the “Palace of Jewels.”

thereafter allowed him the fullest access to the
lady’s presence.

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 referre in any way to the ; complished; but none the less he felt himself to

|

Clarence could not explain how it was ac— ! lion

1
l

prwence of the obnoxious captain on board, but be a mere powerless puppet in the duke’s hands, 3

confined themselves to remarks on gunboats, and was content, for the first time in his life, to
rigs, and such like nautical subjects, in which follOW another’s lead.
both took more or less interest. At the same time that he saw Helen daily, he
It was while they were engaged in a rather felt that some sort of a barrier, intan 'ble but
languid discussion on the respective merits of certain, had risen between them. 6 Hon.
lateen sails and those affected by American Lorelia treated him with the same sort of
schooners, that they heard Helen’s sweet voice languid condescension‘ that she racticed to—
behind them, and turned tosee her, blushing di— ward her inferiors in general, an even Helen,
vine] , leading up her brother to the duke. while she spoke to him as an e ual, kept him at
He en, des Me of all the spoilin she had had, a certain distance which he never observed
was one of t lose amiable girls w o are always before.
making peace between others, and her fine tact The youn man saw and felt all this, and re-
had already perceived that there was trouble of sented it on is own rt by a studied coldness
some sort between Owen and her rescuers. of demeanor. He fe t that something or some
“ I have brought to your grace a gentleman one was at work to prejudice Helen against
of the English nation,” she began, playful] , him, but could not get an opportunity to see
‘ who professes never to know any one till e her alone to ask an explanation.
has been roperly introduced. Permit me then The Hon. Lorelia was forever b her side
to do the onors: Captain Owen Lawton, of Her when not engaged with O’Shea, an the duke
Britannic Majesty’s shi Snapper, His Grace the was always ready to claim her attention when
Duke of Diamantina. s that right, Owen ?” Lorelia went off guard. Hurt and offended.

The cold reserve of Diamantina relaxed into but unable to define the offense, Clarence took :

a smile at her manner, for it is difficult to resist refuge in the society of O’Shea, who had be-
a pretty girl, and Owen Lawton put on his most come to all appearance the favorite guest of the
engaging face as he said: duke.

‘ I am delighted to meet his grace to whom Clarence was rather uzzled at one thing in
my sister tells me I owe so much of kindness O’Shea’s behavior. t the time of the en-
shown to her and my aunt.” counter between the yacht and the British gun-

The duke’s only answer was a cool and silent boat the Ca tain‘ of Control had disa%peared
bow, his face retaining its inscrutable expres- the moment wton entered his boat. ot till
sion. the Snapper was hull down to the south did

“And this, Owen, is Mr. Hart,” pursued O’Shea come on deck, and when Clarence asked
Helen, turning to the American. him where he had been he replied in a confused

Both gentlemen bowed with great outward manner:
politeness, asnaval officers of different nations “ I didn’t want to see that blackguard.
meeting at sea, and Owen observed affably: Sure, I know his father too well, bad luck to

“ Hope to see more of you, some day, Mr. him! ’

my, “ Why, what’s the matter between you, if it’s

Then Dom Gill, tall, an lar and unpreposses- a fair uestion?”
sing in his gaudy Brazi ian uniform, stalked “Wi lye keep it still if I tell ye?”
forward to be presented and remarked: ‘ “ Of- course I will.”

“ Ze honor-a of see ze senhor capitan s’al] be “Well, itHzoes back to twenty years a be-
unexpeck. I’ope zo capitan s’all ze goot health fore Miss elen there was born, the (Es: in’!
en 'oy. Salut, senhor'i’ _ Ah, she’s the only white one in the whole flock

wen Lawton rather curled his hp at the of black sheep.”
other’s ungainly figure, but made shift to bow “ Yes. And did his father offend you?”
and say, “He robbed me, the black-hearted villain.

“ Ver happy, I’m sure.” Ah, ye know all about it, Hart. Ye know that

Then he turned to the duke, with another at- watch the ould maid’s so proud of? Sure, the
tem tatccrrliality, rather forced. r Rajah, rest his soul gave it me with his

“ Hour grace has the heels, of me when my ast words, and that thief made me turn it in to
coal runs out, I must confess,” he said. “ I sup- his head-clerk. And now she wears it and says

you’ll bto Suez before I shall. In fact, he gave it her.”
’ve orders stop at Aden for coal, you know.” ‘ But, what has Captain Lawton to do with

“ We shall meet again, senhor,” was the quiet all this?”

 

2. \‘Vi

 

 

So the poetical Arabs called that which the

morerrosaic Europeans had dubbed “ The Mil-

ouse.” In both cases the title had refer-

ence tothe sup ed wealth of theowner: for this

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 quarter were all astir wit the news
that the “ Diamond Duke had come back.”

They saw load after load of comestibles, with
cr0wds of cooks and black slaves going in, while
a tall, angular man, in European clothes, bus»
tled about, giving orders in bad Arab'c. Ev-
ery one knew the figure and face of the duke’s
steward and manager, Dom Gil Grabador, and
allhthe shopkeepers bowed most obsequiously

1m.

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

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

Inside the house Dom Gil was bowing before
his chief, and the duke asked in his rapid Portu-
guese, unintelligible to the others:

“ Is she here yet?” _

“The princess is in the salon, senhor,” re-
turned the major-demo 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
simplicit truly Oriental. There they were met
b a l y of very remarkable beauty, whose

ch robesset of! her face and figure with daz-
zling effect.

Then the duke dropped Helen’s hand from his
arm and said, in his usual quiet manner:

“ y mother, the Princess Melapctros, Miss
Helen Iawton, daughter of Sir Lumley.”

The beautiful lady gave a slight start at the
name, and looked earnestly atHelen for a mo-
ment ere she replied:

“ I am glad to see the youn lady. Her father

is here, too. and he has been nconsolable for his.

sugsposedh loss. And you are safe, my dear?”
s e
such keenness that the girl’s eyes sunk und¥oher
own. The result of the inspection seemed he

spoke she was scannirg Helen 

 

 

The Duke of Diamonds.

 

 

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
C nce Hart’s arm, behind them.

“ ardon, madame. The Honorable Miss Law-
ton sister of Sir Lumley,” he said rapidly.

‘ e rincess, my mother.”

The on. Lorelia prided herself on her ease
inhigh 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 erfection in its rounde
curves, like those of t e Venus de Medici. Her

tawny gold hair was coiled up with jewels in a 

icturesque Oriental head-dress, and she wore .
t) rhaps the '
ere was a ‘
soft and high bred languor about her whole ‘

he robes of a Greek lady of rank,
most picturesque in the world.

manner and appearance, as different from the
acqiiired insolence of the Anglo-Indian lady as
con (1 be imagined.
She did not offer to salute Lorelia but bowed
with perfect courtesy as she said to her, in Eng—
h .

“ You have had a wonderful escape, Miss
Lawton, my son’s steward tells me."

“ Oh, dear me, yes, your highness.
everything to the dear duke, I m sure.

We owe
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 princem smiled sli htly. '

“ I have seen him, but doubt if he will megs-
nize me. The ladies in Egy t go abroad vail ,
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 placid answer. “ We fin
it to advantage not to 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 vir in had been “setting her cap,”
and Lorelia fe t 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 have been
married very young indeed to have such a

own-up son as his grace.”

The duke led Helen to a seat without
an

Ymg
more attention to the Hon. virgin; )ut the
m seemed to find something painful in the
allusion to her marriage, for she sighed deeply
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:

“ Eleven o’clock. Have you sent to Sir Lum-
ley, my son?”

As we know, to see an one take out a watch
was a sure bait for the Ion. 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-
matione

“ Oh, princess, how singular! I do think that

our watch is the very mate for mine! My bro-
{her always told me there never was but one
such other made in Paris.”

Clarence Hart, who had been standing, re-
tired from the group at a res ectful distance,
as became his position, saw 1; e princess start
violently, and then stagger backward as Lorelia

e

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. Let me lay her
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
so faint that they were obli ed to lay er down
on a couch, while Clarence thed her temples
with ice-water, thinking strange things to him-
self all the time.

Presently the rincess revived and began to
sob and talk wil ly to her son in the same un~
known langua e, while the two En lish women,
much alarm , could only stand Iiy and pity

her.

“ What sent her of! so, Helen?” asked Lorelia,
in a whisper. “I wonder if she has heart dis-
ease?"

“ Perhaps it’s the heat.” suggested Helen, and
then Clarence Hart looked up, with all a doc-
tor't authority in his eye as he said, sternly:

“ Please be quiet.
is nervous.”

He felt the duke, who was beside him, press
his arm as a signal for silence, and Eresently
the lady looked up at him and said in nglish:

“ Who is this. my son?”

“ This is Dr. Hart, my friend and secretary,
who is hunting all over the world for his uncle,
Gilbert Carver,” was the rather singular reply
of Diamantina. _

The introduction seemed, however, to have a
marked effect on the princess; for, to Clarence’s
intense amazement and confusion, she parted
the hair on his forehead with both her soft
white hands, as if he had been a boy, and gazed
l at him steadily with her dark magnetic eyes
‘3 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
away to the window, where good taste had al-

rea sent her niece.
‘ W ile they weralooking out, up to the door
dashed a carriage, and out jumped a tall, stern-

faced man, with (-lear, sharp features and
long mutton-chop whiskers. Helen clapped her

The lady needs rest. She

 

h l
i a‘r‘xl’2pa, page! Here he is I”
‘ 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
this man to-day.” .

But, to the surprise of all, the lady seemed to
recover her strength at the sharp sound of the
bell and the tone of Sir Lumley’s voice in the
passage, asking for his daughter.

She sat fip and waived 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
lift -flve.

very line of his hard ha hty face, with its
large, loose-lipped mouth, h the domineering
temper of its owner written plainl therein.
The precision of his attire, Anglo- ndian all
over; the whiteness of his puggaree hat with its
green linin ; the smoothness of his chin and
ips all tol of the desk-man, the bureaucrat.
Sir Lumle Lawton, yellow and dogmatic, was
a favorab e specimen of the Indian civil service
official, absolute wielder of almost irresponsible

wer over thousands of 0 1e.

In the presentcase he 00 ed at his best un-
der the softening’influence of paternal love, for
Sir Lumley was an affectionate father.

There were tears in his e es as Helen flew to
meet him, and he even em raced Lorelia with
considerable affection.

Meantime the Duke of Diamantina, the Greek
princess and Clarence Hart became, unawares,
spectators of this farm] y 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
pure jealousy of the kimes Helen was lavishing
on him.

But his eyes did not rest long on the family
group. They were attracted, instead, to the
two spectators like himself, who were watching
Sir Lumley from the darkened room.

The Duke of Diamantina gaZed at the Eng-
lishman with a slight lifting of the up r lip, a
spreading of the wide nostril, a dilatation of the
eye, that irresistibly reminded Hart of the ap‘
pearance of some carnivorous animal that
spouts prey for the first time after a fast and

s cc .

There was no ferocity there yet, but there
was a revelation of depths of ferocity that
might come to light in a moment more, should
the scent come stronger.

Then his eyes turned on the princess, and the
beautiful and languid lady was transformed.
Herrlips were parted over er white teeth her
nost ' a tense with some secret emotion, and her
bosom rose and fell in those short quick gasps
that show how much a woman is wrought up,
while her black eyes fairl blazed at the uncon-
scious Sir Lumley, as he 'ssed his child again
and again

Something he could hardly tell what, made
Hart stir 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: ‘

“ t is he, indeed!”

The whisper, soft as it was, attracted the
duke’s attention, and he started round to his
mother, saying samething in Greek which
caused her to calm her face instantly

The first meetin of parent an child was
now over, and H en was just beginning to
think of the presence of her best, when the loud
rollicking vonce of O’Shea was heard in the hall,
and thahgguant captain stalked into the room,
rapier J t in snowy linen.

 

 

“Faith, duke, and this Cairo in Ma ’3 ni h
as bad as Lucknow or Delhi,” cried t e {o 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 —- in!
Is it 9 Holy Mother of Go I”

The stout office: had passed on into the dark-
ened room out of the glare outsi e, without n0-
ticing the Lawton tableau, 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’Shea was astonishing. Stout
and jolly as he was, he turned a dead white,
staggered and nearly fell. Then, passing his
han over his brow, as if he felt giddy and con-
fused, he stammered:

“I beg pardon, ma’am, my lady—I thought
his race was alone—I—”

“arms is Captain O’Shea, of the Engéish army,
mother,” said the soft, low voice of t e duke at E
this juncture. “Captain, this is my mother,
Princess Melapetros. Sir Lumley Lawton is in
the room. Be composed.”

He 8 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 inestimable service Dia—
mantina had rendered him. .

“My dear sir,” rejoined the other with his ‘ i
usual lazy grace, “it is nothing. I have long {
wished to see Sir Lumley Lawton outside of In— "
dia, and I 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, have been in Goa; but you
must reflect that it is not pleasant for a Portu-

ese to look on the country which Albuquerque

rst made known to civilization, and see anoth-
er ple in ion there.”

‘ Indeedl’ said Sir Lumley, with an un
laugh; “ is it possible your people are so sensi-
tive as that?”

f “ T hiey are agililsitge, senhor, and they nelveg
or t njuries i a ervengeam-e-m peo e.

“ hy, why, duke: I thought that 
were rather a quiet and commercial 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 ke, he made a silent si al
with his hand to cm Gil, who had softly glided
into the room, and instantly a flood of 1i ht

ured in at the rear windows, as the curta n:
gew apart at a single pull of a hidden cord.

It was like a cunmngly contrived coup de
theatre for more than one member of the com-

pany.

Sir Lumley Lawton saw before him the bean-
tiful rincess, a calm smile on her lips, and ve
a vio ent start, turning as pale as if she ad
been a host, while the single word, “Ernie!”
esca is lips.

The princess, all her former emotion replaced
by rfect calmness, bowed and smiled, as she

as] :

“ I am glad to .meet Sir Lumley Lawton, at
last. Ihave looked for that pleasure in vain
for some time.”

The llor began to fade out of the English-
man’s ace, and it was with a faint attempt at
a smile, that he stammered out:

“Pardon me, princess; but on are 50—50
like—a lad I once knew—that —I was start-
led—” and e stopped, still starin at her.

Then the duke interposed, with ' usual qui«
ct smile:

“ These resemblances are very 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. l
This vile hot weather! I fear Sare Lomlee is ‘ ,
not well."

And indeed the Englishman looked aslf he
had a stroke of paralysis. '

CHAPTER XVII.
'mn: KHEDIVE CLUB.

AMONG the other modern institutions of re-
mustructed E pt none are more remarkable
than the club- ouses. Alexandria rteone of
them, under the name of the “fihemet Ali
Club,” founded by Prince Mehemet Tewflk, son
of the first Khedive Ismail Pasha; while Cairo
re ices in the still larger and more flourishin
“ hedive Club ” built by the British Duke 0  -
Sutherland, and patronizrd by the fashion of .\_ 
Cairo, native and mported. ' '1 ’ '

The Khedive Club boasts the names of half . “ 
the aristocracy of Europe as honorary or visit-  g< ’
ing members, and a host of pashas, boys, bank-  ~
ers, merchants and other notables, as constant  Na.
members. The Duke of Diamantina had be-
longed J'o it from its foundation, and his face
was as well known there as that of any

 

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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. '

On 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. sunject 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,
a 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 sharper’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 Sare Lomleo is an English
jud of the Bureau Civile, and holds the name
unb emished.”

“ But just look at this,” exclaimed the pasha,
impatiently, and he struck his knuckles on a
folded newspaper lyin on his knee. “ Here is
the T imcs, the English paper of papers, that
charges him directly wit the dirty and mean
crime of a petty theft.”

“Pardon me, monsieur ” here calmly inter-

Diamantina, who ad been pulling his
cigarette close by. “I heard the name of Sir
Lomlee mentioned. Is it by chance the gentle-
man who is now here?”

“Ah, my dear duke, you are welcome,” re-

lied the old general, rising and cordially shak-
Iiig hands. “Yes, it is this Lawtone this stiff
Englishman, that we talk about! Hear this,
monsieur, in the ‘ Bord du Nil ’* extracted from
the English Times.”

And the old officer began to read in French
from a local Cariene 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 leg excusable features of the suppression of the
Indian Mutiny in 1857. Our older readers may re-
member that tho Rajah of the Independent state of
Krishnapoor was accused by Mr. (now Sir Lumley)
Lawton British Minister Resident at his court, of
having taken part in the mutiny by a secret expedi-
tion under the guise of a hunting party, whichcnded
in an attack on Sir James Outrain’s provision con-
voys and the extermination of half of the 17th Foot,
guarding the convoy. The Rajah denied the charge,
and offered to prove that he was a hundred miles
away atthe time of the attack, and that prisoners
afterward taken confessed that Tantia Topee was
the leader in that terrible massacre.

“As is well known in India Sir Lumley (then Mr.
Lawton) obtained access to rishnapoor h a mas-
terly stratagem. pretendin friendship, (UN only ar-
rested the treacherous Hin 00 when the latter was
fairly in his power.”

Here Diamantina broke in with a sort of hiss,
the nearest approach to a laugh in which he
was ever known to indul e. .

“ They are droll, these nglish; are they not,
pasha? The Englishman uses a ‘ masterly
stratagem,’ while the Hindoo 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 cursed Ger-
mans. Sacrrrré !”

The Prussophobia of the Frenchman over-

wered _ even his Anglophohia, and Halim
asha grinned as he looked over his spectacles.

“ Let me read on. The rest is still more droll
for the English.”

He continued:

u The Rajah was suddenly arrested in the evening
by adetachment of Sikh Horse. and an effort was
made at the same time to seize the Rance, his wife
an Eurasiani lady, with their only son, then a chip]
in arms. This attempt was frustrated by the des-
perate fighting of a part of the Rajahls Guard head-
ed b a Yankeeodventurer called Gilkarvah by the
Hin 00s, who cut his way out of the city, carrying
of! the woman and infant. The Rajah was huriied-
l y tried by a court-martial, who found him guilty.
and the Resident produced an order from me vice_
roy ordering his execution by blowing from a can-
non, the solitary instance in which this form of
death was meted out to a Illndoo of rank. The sen-
tence was carried into effect next day at noon in the
public square of Krish nnpoor.

“ So much is familiarto 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 rmlng herself to
be the widow of the dead Rajah of Krishnapoor and
claims that Sir Lumley Laan not only forged the
Viceroy ‘3 order for her husband a execution, but
actual y took private iosscssmn of all the jewels of
the R8. all found on is body, especially a'watch,
made y Bellechasse Frt‘res of Paris which she
avers to have seen in the possession of Sir Lumlev’s
sister, alleged to have been ordered and paid forby
Sir Lumley. This lady sues under the name of Eme
Kalidasa, widow of Kalidasa. Rajah of Krishnapoor
and offers as witnesses the makers of the watch an
some tiff prominent Indian officials who have seen
it in the on. Miss Lawton’fi pesscssion. This charge
if proven will convict Sir Lumley of a very neg.

 

"‘The i B 1:."
+19dean 613an of mixed European-Asiatic
race are thus named in dis.



13

 

The“ D ke of “Diamonds.

form of embezzlement of public property, and if
Krm‘cn, willprobably lead to his dismissal from her
Iajesty‘s CiVil Service. The charge of forgery of
the death-warrant is more obscure, as Lord Law-
rence, who was Governor-General at the time, has
been dead some years."

\Vhen Halim Pasha had finished—reading he
looked round him trium hantly.

“There, inessieurs; t lat is the man that
Colonel Hamilton, the British consul-general,
introduces to the club and asks us to grant
privileges to. I say I shall rotcst to the ex-
ecutive committee unless he 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 fair cook
—used to be in t e ‘Reform,’ you know—I
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! I say! What’s all this?‘

The consu general stuck his glass in his eye
and stared at the bulletin board of the club,
where the names of members proposed were
usually posted for the period before voting on
t em.

In front of the board were grouped the
Egyptian officers, headed b Halim Pasha, and
that venerable and testy oil cer was deliberate
ly pulling down Sir Lumley’s name from the
board.

“Hallo, I say, pasha, you know, this is no
oke, you know,” angrily exclaimed Colonel
amilton, as he stepped forward.

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE ARTICLE.

THE old Albanian turned and glowered at
him with his fiery eyes as he held out the paper
inned to the obnoxious article in the Bord du

il, which had caused the trouble.

“ There, monsieur,” he said, shaking them an
grily “ I ’ave torn ze name, zat you may save
your onneur. Do you comprehend,sare? Look
a}; zat, article, and say if zat is a name for dis
c ubl‘

Then with a flourish he slapped his breast and
handed the papers to the amazed Englishman,
repeating:

“I am rispousable, sare.”

And a dozen Eg ptians, French and Italian
oflltgrs slapped t eir breasts together, and
crie :

“ Ve are risponsable, sure i”

The English consul-general was a large phleg-
matic blonde, who wore a gold eyeglass, and
had been a captain in the Guards before he took
to diplomacy.- He was as cool 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 sition revents me from fighting in
 hat’s t 8 row i”

is sare; dis! Read ’em!”

And ’Halim Pasha thrust the paper into his
hands, pointin to the article. .

Meanwhile 1r Lumley Lawton, not quite com-
prehending 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 8 ectator 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 gir Lumley had been taken sosuddenl ill
at the Diamantina mansion that the duke ad
been obli ed to send him home in his own car-
riage. Since that time the once Resident of
Krishnapoor 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 eno h,
and if the reader has not gathered it from e
foregoing pages, it is soon told.

From some occult cause, the oung Duke of
Diamantina seemed to Sir Lum ey to be noth-
ing but the living portrait and identity of that
very Rajah of Kris napoor whom he had caused
to be destroyed twenty years before. Had not
Sir Lumley seen the mutilated fragments of
that unhappw .prince 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
evxl spirit that had taken the dead Kalidasa's

shflx‘.

e had made all sorts of inquiries about the
duke since he left the Diamantina mansion, and
had found his name well known and printed in
the Almanach de Golha the indispensable of
European tuft-hunters.

There he wasz—“Vasco Va uez, Count of
Albu uerque, Marquis of Pom , Duke of Dia-
mant na created in 1869, by Dom Pedro, Em-
peror of ’Brazil, aatas 28.”

 

 

There w as no gossibility to Sir Lumley’s mind
that there ooul be any other connection than

!

 

 

that of a startlin resemblance between this
man, born in Brazil, and the child of Kalidasa,
who would only be twenty-one if he were alive.

Sir Lumley resolved to make a friend of the
duke and find who he was, for his own safety.
One thing was certain: if the Princess Euphro-
syne Melapetros had been twenty )cal‘s youn-

er, she might have passed to Sir Lumley for

file Blackstone, the little Eurasian, who had
cheated him at fifteen by marrying Kalidasa.

“It must be that they are the same,” he mut-
tered to himself now, as he looked at Diaman-
tina and thought of the yesterday’s meeting.
“But if they are they can do me no harm.
I‘ll cultivate this young duke and find out.”

But while he was looking at the duke, and
making up his mind, Colonel Hamilton was
glancing rapidly over the Super: and 'ust as

ir 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 1' rench editors al-
wa 5 lie. But just read it, you know.”

ir Lumle , with a vague feeling of un-
easiness, too the aper and began to glance
over the translat article, while Hamilton
wit 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 2 Ali, Mehemet, Hassan,
Francois, whatever is your infernal forei
name! I swear you confounded grinning Frenc
Greek monkeys are not fit to wait upon a n-
tleman, confound this beastly country! ive
it here, you infernal Egy tian idiot you !”

He snatched the pa r fgom the waiter’s hand
(said waiter was a altese, by the by) and os-
tentatiously. turned his back on the Egyptian
officers, With an a pearance 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 0 it on any one of
the grinning foreigners, jea ous of English su-
premacy, who filled the club.

He did not believe that the article in the Bord
du Nil came out of the Times at all. He was
too familiar with the peculiar ways of Le-
vantine journalism to doubt that this was some
sort of a blackmailing attack, but all the same
he remembered to have heard hints in India of
foul ’play in “ that unfortunate Krishnapoor af-
fair and the story about Lorelia’s watch had
been a common matter of mess-room scandal in
Calcutta. It was characteristic of the utter
and contemptuous disregard of right and
wron in den ing with Bindoos that marks the
Britis population of India, that all these stories
had never cost the Lawtons any social or of-
flcialegrestige. “So many things had to be
wink at in the mutiny, you know.”

Hamilton looked savagely through the Times,
scanning page after page with the e e of an ex-
pert, til he came to the end, when e triumph-
antly folded it flat with a slap, and cried:

“ There, gasha; I knew you couldn’t trust
those dirty lackmailing sheets they call papers
in Cairo, got up by a reel 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 highness and have
the pgpor stop There’s no such article in
the 'mes. It s all a lie.”

Sir Lumley, who was reading the French
'ournal with a face like ay marble and a

set of the lowrer jaw, Eire forced a smile
and tossed the per on the floor, sayin :

“By Jove, amilton, I didn’t thin these
scoundrels 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 En lish gentlemen to be insulted like
this. By ove, sir, if he’s anything short of an
Englishman, I’ll have him bastinadoed, or I’ll
send 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 nasa 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.

Tin: speaker was a tall, thin, angular man,
with sharp, clean-shaven face, large bones, and
a general ap ce 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 shiny black like a clergy-
man, and had been sitting quietly at a distant
table, reading the very pager Which he now held
out with a grim smile to olonel Hamilton.

Both the En lishmen stared at him insur-
prise and Hami ton haughtin asked him:

“ Who are you, sir? I don‘t think I have the
honor of your acquaintance.”

“ Waal,” rename American, coolly, “I
was one of the can ers of this club—before
your time, cunnel, and if you want to see my

 

  

a

 

.u g

14

name you kin compare this card and the mem-
bers’ roll-book at our leisure.”

He handed the nglishman a small card on
which was written

“DOM GIL’GRABADOR,
Commandante Nam'o Bresiliano.”

Hamilton stared at him amazedly. He had
()ft‘ln seen the tall form and black heard of Dom
Gil, but that individual spoke execrable Eng-
lish while this man’s face was clean-shaven,
his glrammar pure, and only his pronunciation
nasa .

“But you are not a Brazilian,” he at length
ejaculated.

“ Why not, cunnel? My commission is every
whit as straight as yours, and ‘ Pedro R.’ makes
jist as prett a signature as ‘ Victoria R., to my
notions. I I choose to turn my Boston name
into Portuguese, I’ve just as good a right as all
the French Huguenots that went into England
with William of Orange to make themselves
English. Haven’t I?”

“ I don’t dispute the right, sir,” was the cold
reply of Hamilton. “ Your name may be Smith
or Brown for all I care.”

“But it’s neither, as it happens, cunnel and
I’ll trouble on to remember it,” retorte the
Yankee, a aint flush tin 'ng his cheekbones.
“Here’s the Times, with t e article noted in
the Bard du. Nil, and 1 uess the Khedive won’t
have to bastinado one itorthis morning. I‘ve
been an editor myself, cunnel, in a place where
I had to write Wilh a revolver in each boot and
a bowie down the back of mv neck; 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 t) stop his volubility, for his eyes had al-
ready caught the head-lines which told him the
American s k0 truly.

As for Sir Lumley Lawton, now that there
was an open attack on him, he assumed the ap-
pearance of iron calm which distinguished him
at most times, and folded his arms to await
Hamilton’s report.

It was noticeable that, now the cold Northern
races had met in open collision, the excitable
and swarthy Egyptians and French had drawn
themselves out of the quarrel, and were looking
on listening with hushed interest. Even testy
olzi Halim l’asha had been silenced by Hamil-
imi’s first furious denunciation of the Bord du
Nil and his threat to a pen! to the Khedive.

The only quiet an unconcerned Spectator
seemed to be the Duke of Diamantina, who sat
in his cane arm-chair. blowing rings of cigarette
smoke and watching the scene with a keenness
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 Italian
would have torn up the paper; but the Times
was the sacred representative of British re-
spectabilit to Hamilton, and he could not
doubt but hat 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 11 this woman to per-
sonate the Ranee and b ack-mail you. I’m
sorry on couldn’t have got home sooner to nip
it int e bud.”

Sir Lumley took the paper and looked at it
himself with uanVed face till he had mastered
its sense, when he said coolly:

“This will shorten my stay here.
only to go home to crush all t i
spirac . I see this club is a terribly mixed af-
fair, 0 d fellow. I suppose your ition com-
pels you to belong to it; but, by ove, I 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 hearty
En lish welcome we can promiise for yourself
ang your friends. ” ~

So saying, he bowed low to the duke, stuck
on his hat ostentatioust bef re the Egy tian
officers lighted 9. cl ar snficring 0 up at
them all, and then we ked quietly to t e
twirlin his cane as he wen and whistling.

Ham‘ ton followed his exam 10 to the letter.
The colonel was too much u to the swagger
and bluster 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 uietly
withdrawn to the table. at which be h been
takin his coffee and paper together, and seem
ed to once more absorbed in the news.

Thus the Eu lishmen might have been said to
come off with ving colors out of the club, and
so the Duke of Diamantina quietly remarked to
Halim Pasha:

“Those English are devils, but they are no
cowards "the stout Albanian veteran admitted.
“ I could almost have laughed at the bold hear-
ing of that Bare Lomlee; but, tlnnk Heaven,
the club is rid of him.”

“ Here comes another of the race,” observed

 

 

I have

s rascally con-

oor,

 

Thenpke of Diamonds.

 

 

Diamantina, as Captain O’Shea, rubicund and
jolly as ever, entered the club-room.

But the captain ap red to be an old habitué
of the club, as ind he was, owing to his fre-

quent journeys to and fro from India, for the ,

urchase of Government stores. He shook
ands with Halim Pasha, talked vile Irish-
French or worse Arabic to the other officers,
and seemed to be hail-fellow-well-met with all.
“ Ha, duke,” he broke out, the moment he saw 2
Diamantina, “ I just met that mnrderin’ old vil-
lain, Lawton. Did ye see the blast the Times

 

gave him? bad luck to him! He’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 to see him. ow that l
vinegary old maid ’ll ma be have to give up
that watch she stole; bad uck to her.”

Diamantina blew a long curl of smoke are he
replied.

“ Do not he too sure, my dear sir. Sir Lum-
ley is rich yet and the En lish courts are not
kind to those r devils of indoos.”

“ Ah, e on’t know English ways, your
grace. e r Rance ma never get an sat-
isfaction out of the villain, ut ye’ll see t ey’ll
send him to Coventry in England for this.”

“My dear sir,” responded Diamantina, lazil ,
“as on say, I do not know the ways of t e
English. What is this Coventry you mention l”

“ Coventry! Well, your ce, it’s a very
disagreeable place to visit. hen a man ts
there, no one will speak to him, and he might
as well be dead as alive.”

“ This must be a charming residence, this
Coventry,” observed the duke, with another
puff. “I am obliged to you for the informa-
tion, capitaii. Have you seen Senhor Hart this
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, passing by
Dom 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-
room, leaving O‘Shea talking to the Egyptians.

Presently Dom Gil got up, placed a tall stove-

ipe hat on his head and walked out past

’Shea', who stared in his face with some won-
der, 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? Bedad he looks like
Death come out of the grave for a holiday.”

But Halim Pasha profemed his own igno-
rance. He had not seen the card iven to
Hamilton, who hadtfiut it in his poc at, and,
like all the rest, ha fniled to reco 'ze Dom
Gil; sothat the attempt ended ini le conjec-
ture.

Then, when some one proposed to ask Dia-
mantina, the discovered that the duke had left
the club, an had been seen driving away on
the new road across the bridge to the P ramids
of Ghizeh, the regular drive for fas ionable
visitors. ‘

 

CHAPTER XX.
AN sorrrux Enrroa.

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 quarter 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 du Nil—Bureau d’Editeur,”
which in English is simply, “TEE NIL]: BANK
——Enrroa’s Omen.”

“ Entrez 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 Khedive Club.

The editor was a pale, keen-looking, middle-
aged man, with a gray mustache and a general
air of overwork, incident to perforining the
duties of proof-reader, leader-writer, advertis-
ing agent, reporter and book-keeper in one, in
the cit of Cairo in May—with the arduous of-
fice o bill—collector thrown in. He had told
Dom Gil to enter in French, but it was in un-
mistakable New York slang that he greeted
him when the other was fair y inside.

“ Well, old fellow, what’s the racket now?
Spit her out quick for I’m in a devil of a hurry
to catch the mail.’ And he scribbled away.

Dom Gil allowed his grim features to relax
into a smile as he said:

“ Let the mail wait. I’ve got a check to your
order, Frankly. ”

Geor W. Frankly, editor in chief of the
Bord u Nil, threw down his pen and positively
laughed as he turned to Dom Gil, though the
tears were in his eyes as he did so.

“ Well, by Jove, that’s a thing I’ve not seen
for months. Running a paper in Cairo ain’t
what it’s cracked up to be, old fellow. I was

wers, it l Week

 

ust son a line home to the old Spy to ask
ior the poe‘mon of Egyptian and levantine cor-

d

respondent, to keep the wolf from the door.
What’s it for, old boy?”

“Call it ‘political services,’ and pass it to'

our account,” was the evasive reply, as Dom

il passed over the check he had mentioned to
the other.

Frankl looked at in amazement and jo .

“Two undredliras! SmithandBrown,
ersl Why, what’s this for?”

“ 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 I’ll bring you such another next

nk.

Erankly looked hesitatingly at the check and
as (K:
“What article do you mean? That Lawton
business? I onl co ied that.” .
“Exactly. at or all that, Colonel Hamil-
ton and Lawton himself were nearly comin
down to interview you with a big stick about it.

Frankly laughed. He was a thin, wiry man'

with a firm chin, and ears set very close to his
head, one of the tvpe that prize-fighters call
“ ame to the backbone.”

‘ The might run on a snag if they tricd that,
Gibby,’ he remarked. “ Do you remember the
time we used to do the local business down in
Galveston. before the war? Those Texans make
an En lishman seem like a whale in shoal
water side 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 $§ree~
ment with that artic e in your next issue. hen
do you come out?”

“ To- morrow.”

“Exactly. Well, we want on to indorse
the article in an editorial, and b uif oil! the Eng-
lishman if he comes. If you do this, you’ll get
another check next week.”

Frankly hesitated ain.

“Perhaps you don know what you’re ask--
in . As lon as I copy the Times and keep a
sti 1 month, ’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 eye of an exchan e editor.

hen he hadfi ' bed he shoo his head.

“ Won’t do, Gil. I’d like to obli c you, but
that‘s too strong. Why, they could ave me up
for I‘ilvgehin any cour‘thin this worlg.” h

‘ e , suppose ey 0 an you ave a
hacker to pay the costs and
How much will you take to fight it out?”

Frankly considered a moment.

“The risk’s worth at least twent thousand
dollars, and I should have to leave t 9 country
in the end. You don’t know how strong the
English are here.”

‘ Then here is something will satisfy you on
all points,” said Dom Gil, uietly. “ Remem-
ber t’s in confidence and on y to secure you in
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

at deal of emotion was manifest and replied
to the other’s look of in uiry:

h“ Yes, Gibby, I’ll do it. I never dreamed of
t is.

“And yet you might have known, if you
hadn’t been a regular old duffer, George,’ re-
torted Dom Gil, with forced jocularity, two
suspicions drops standing in the corner of his
eyes. “ 1 won dn’“pnt you in a hole for all the
mongy in Asia. ill you pitch into Lawton
now

“By the great horn spoon which Nebuchad» '

nezzar used 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 of the Bord du Nil tucked the
check into his pocket, seized his pen, and plung~
ed into his work as Dom Gil left the omce.

CHAPTER XXI.
RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT.

THE little trouble at the Khedive Club did
not affect Sir Lumley Lawton to any great out-
ward extent. Hehad been in a measure pre-

for it bE the unexpected meeting with
he Princess uphrosyne Melapetros, and he
had no doubt in his own mind that she and the
lost Ranee of Krishnapoor were one and the
same person. The very name, “Melajpetros,”
wasa mere Greek translation for the maiden
name under which she had passed in India; for
it meant “ Black Stone ” (or Rock).

How well he remembered Effie Blackstone in
those old days before the mutiny! She was one
of those unfortunate beings in Indian societ
occupying almost the same tion once held
by our own octoroons, thou not accom nied.
by the le ltaints of slavery and haste .

Her fat er, Ensign Blackstone of the 
second Foot (of the famous “ Black Watch ” of

 

see you through. ,

).

,1
v .
‘?s g‘!

.‘ 3"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

' The Duke of Diamonds.

 

A ~ 15

 

o—v

Fontenoy), had, while eta raw “ Grid ” (green-
horn), fallen madl in ove with a native girl.
Worse than that, 9 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 Ganges
for the crocodiles, whence he rescued her, to the
da she became, to her simple wonder and de-
l' t, a real “Sahib’s lady.

lgPoor Luchmeel hers was a histor rarely met
with outside of India. W'ho were or rents,
was problematicai. All the missionary new of
her was that he saw her floating by in a basket
one mornin , like Moses in the old pictures,
with the ad ition of a dozen crocodiles coming
after her, scenting prey. At the risk of his life
the worth man had fished her out just in time
to cheat he 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, talkiii En lish well, and having all
the education 0 a w ite girl in the same sta-
tion should be a bewitching creature even to
English ofliccrs, is not surprisin ; and the Le-
tharios of at least a dozen mare ing regiments
and two crack cavalry co? had laid siege to
her whenever rrison ut called them to
Modbad, where issio ilson labored.

But inasmuch as their ntentions were in no
case honorable, and Mrs. Wilson was a very

of watchfulness, no one succeeded, til
young Malcolm Blackstone, with the scent of
the heather still in his hair. came, like a green,
honest countr lad as he was, married Luchmee
after a three ays’ courtship, and realized, with-
in three days more, that he had made a terrible
and fatal mistake.

Not a ladyin the rrison would visit his new
wife; and most of t em refused even to recog-
nize himself. Hiscomrades were cool and dis-
tant, and made his position so uncomfortable
that he was glad to resign and go into civil em-
, loyment at Allahabad, where Effie was born.

oor Lucnmee did not know how she was ostra-
cised, for the simple reason that she never had
mingled With any Europeans except her foster-
pareuts, and therefore did not miss their so-
ciety; but her husband, who had all the sensi-
tiveness of a poor and mud man, was cut to
the heart at findin himself 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 tenderness; but when she died, after a
{car of married life leaving baby Ellie behind

or, it is questionable whether her husband did
not feel a certain senes of relief.

His sition in English society was now capa-
ble 0 betterment, and he soon found himself
rising in the civil service, owing to the know-
ledge of natives and their languages obtained
b him from the circumstances of his marriage.

file, therefore, grew up in a nomadic sort of
way, owing to the frequent and rapid transfers
of her father from post to post all over India
till by the time she was a full- grown woman oi
fourteen (in India ual to eighteen or twenty
in Europe) she coul talk a dozen languages flu-
ently, read a little English, play a little on the
guitar, sing and dance divinely: though the
multiplication table was a mystery 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 social position anom-
alous, like that of her mother, no white lady
recognizin her, while the men paid her a.

uestionab e r t, tinged with a licentious

evotion that on y failed to hurt her on account
of her utter innocence of all guile. Her father,
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 ing their nature.

Lumley wtonyvas then a civil service man,
08150118le occiipying the post of secretary to
the Raj of nshnapoor, reall a paid y
on that gallant oun prince. wo years
fore the outbrea of t e mutiny he was offered
by the British Government the post of Resident;
minister at the court which the Rajah eagerly
urged him to accept on the ground that he pre-
ferred an old friend to a new face, and almost
at [the same time the Rajah wooed and won
Effie Blackstone, for whose sweet sake he con-
sented to abjure polygamy and be married in
Christian fashion by the same devoted Metho-
dist missionary who had been the only grand-
father Ellie ever knew.

Well did Sir Lumley call all this to mind as
he satin the smoking-room at Shepherd’s Hotel,
looking out into the glare of the Egy tian sun-
light, through the crevices of the binds and
thinking over the past. Well did he remember
theda , ust after the massacre of Cawnpoor,
when 0 ad tried to induce Ellie to leave her
husband and flee to Calcutta, promising to se-
cure her the Rajah’s treasures and a brilliant
life in England as his own wife. He was a
widower by this time, his only daughter, Helen
a baby in England, his son, Owen, at Eton; an
he could have kept his word.

He told her that the Rajah‘l sym thies were

with the rebels, and that it woul be easy to

 

trump up a charge a ainst him in the excited
state of English fee ing, and moreover that
Kalidasa was away on a pretended hunting ex-
pedition at that very time.

The rebuff that was given him by the Rance
stung him even now, twenty years after the
date, as he sat brooding over t 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
guards and have his head taken off, if it cost

er life and kingdom.

“ But I paid him up for it,” muttered Sir
Lumley, to himself; “ and as for the death-war-
rant, Lord Lawrence winked at the irregulari-
ties and the statute of limitations bars the rest.
l’ve nothin to fear. ”

Even whi e he sgoke he heard the loud, rol-
licking tones of O’ hea in the passage, coming
toward the room and talking to some one.

 

CHAPTER XXII.
tannin AND son.

“Dom GIL? Divil a one o’ me’s seen him.
What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing; on] I want to meet him very
much, O’Shea, rep ed the voice of a stranger,
and into the room came O’Shea and a young
man in the semi-Oriental dress affected by Euro-
peans in Egypt.

They lanced over at Sir Lumley, who was
dimly Visible in the darkened room, and the
young man lowered his voice.

“Do on remember what I told you about
my nnc e O‘Shea!”

‘Yes, Cilkarvah, ye mean!”

“ The same. Dom Gil’s the man.”

“ D‘ye mean it now ’i”

“I’m sure of it. I’ve been hunting over a die-
tionary and find that Grabador is merely La
translation of Carver.”

“ Whisht!” answered O’Shea, suddenly nudg-
ing him and jerking his thumb toward Sir
Lumley. “ Don’t ye see who’s yonder? Come
this wa .”

And they left the room before the English
baronet could catch any more and went down
the sea conversing low an earnestly.

“ here 3 that cursed Irishman,” muttered
Lawton to himself. “I was a fool to buy his
silence with a commission, when a dangerous
errand among the mutineers mi' ht have rid
me of his tongue and himself. f be and the
Rance put their heads together the may make
that watch affair look ugly for me. {wish Owen
was here.”

Sir Lumley began to realize that he was past
his rime, and to lean 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 away
the noontime up-stairs, and the hotel was de-
serted save b a few perspiring waiters.

He rose an went over to the telegraph emce,
where the operator was dozing in his chair.

“ Anything for me?”

“ You? let me see, sir—what name?”

“Sir Lumley Lawton.”

Positively he felt reluctant to say it aloud in
Cairo, since that article in the Bard du Nil.

The operator looked up at him in a startled,
interested may, as if he too had heard the name,
and answere :

“ Yes, sir. Here’s a telegram from Aden for

on.
y Sir Lumle tore open the envelope and read
with eager elight:

“Coallng finished. Shall be in Cairo on the 27th.
Meet you at the club. Owns."

Then his face fell, and he be n to gnaw his
under lip. Owen was to meet im at the club:
that very club which had refused to five him
the usual courtesies that morning. . 0' must
manage to intercept him before he got there.

“ What time does the train from Suez get in
here?” he asked the clerk at the desk of the
hotel, as that worthy individual dosed in the

ca

t, .

The clerk woke up confused] .

“Train to Suez? Yes sir. ix r. x.”

“No, no, from Suez here I mean,” said Sir
Lumley, impatiently.

“Oh, yes sir. Beg pardon, sir. Two trains.
One leaves uez at daylight, ts here 10:55 A.
x. Other’s the night train— 0:40 P. M. Carries
mail sir. Very few passengers. P. and O. peo-
ple all come in morning train.”

“Thank ou.”

Sir Lum ey turned away to look at his tele-

gram.

“ 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

way.

“ The twenty seventh, sir, Monday.”

“To-da 2”

Sir Lumley felt the sweat run down his face.
Owen must be here ah-eady and must have
gone to the club. By this time he knew all;
must have seen the obnoxious pa r, perhaps
but uarreled with some one abouth

“ hy didn’t I get thistelegram soonch he

 

asked fiercely, of the operator, anxious to vent
his een on some one. .

“ t was marked ‘to be called for,’ sir. I
didn’t know you by sight. I’m not toblame.
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 Rhodive
Club, quite regardless of the heat.

Some hundreds of donkey boys seeing an
En lishman, marked him for their awful prey
am? came down like a swarm of locusts, shout-

m : '

EDonkey, howadji! Berry good! Run like
deer! Backshish, howadji'”

They supplemented theirdiroken English with
a long string of Arabic curses and jeers, on the

enerall safe idea that the howadJi would on-
erstan the English and take the Arabic for
compliments.

But Sir Lumle was in no mood to stand their
noise, and he lai about him so fiercely with his
stick, with a shower of Arabic epithets as 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. He‘understood them.

Then the Englishman pursued his way in

, and the t person e met a ng
the steps of the club was the Duke of Diaman-
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 dark 51%;

line features set off b the broad shadow of '

turbaned hat, his w 'te costume of faultles
urity. The ex-Resident of Krishnapoor could

ve sworn Kalidasa stood before him.

The duke was going to his carriage, which
waited for him, and he lifted his hat with his
usual bland smile as he Sir Lumley.

A sudden impulse to e the older man speak
to him, bluntly and abrupta:

“ I know who you are. but do you want of
me, Kalidasa?”

Diamantina raised his eyebrows in polite sur-

use.

p “ Sir Lumley Lawton! I want of you f My
dear sir, you must be careful: this sun is ve
dangerous. Your eye looks wild: you wi
have a stroke. You must go home. My man
shall, drive you. Nay, nay, my dear sir, I in-
sist.

And before Sir Lumley could resist, the duke
half-led, half-pushed him to the carriage, re-

ting:

“ The doctor said it was a case of very nearly
sunstroke yesterday, and you are not quite
right in your head et. My dear sir, you must

at in. I will ta e no denial. Pedro shall
rive you back to the hotel at once, and then
you must lie down.”
t_ Bitilt here Sir Lumley at last broke out, impa-
ien y:

“I tell you I’m as well as you are. Have
you seen my son Captain Lawton in the club?

hat‘s all I ask.”

. “ Captain Lawton?” asked the duke, medita-
tivelv, as if trying to recollect.

“ Yes, Captain Owen Lawton, Royal British
Navy,” retorted the father, in the same exas-
perated tone. “ Have you seen him today?”

“My dear sir, let me think. I see so many
people. Ca tain Lawton, the son of the dis-
tinguished ir Lumley? I think I have. Yes,
sir, I have seen the gentleman in the Red Sea.
Miss Helena will tell you how he fired a shall at
the yacht, when his sister was on board. t
was a mistake, you know, my ood 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 ste ped back a pace, looking at the
En lishman si ewise with the same provoking
sm' e on his face, extracted a cigarettecase
from his pocket, opened it, and proflered it to
Sir Lumley.

“Will you not smoke, sir? The tobacco is
from in own plantation in the Vuelta Abajo.
It has t e true flavor.”

“No. I don’t want to smoke. Since ,you
will not answer me, I’ll ring the bell. Good:
day duke.”

“hood-day my dear air.”

The duke~ ftod his bat with his sweetest
smile while Sir Lumley ascended the steps of
the ciub-house and rung the bell. The smile
became one of triumphant meanin a moment
later as Diamantina stepped into is carriage
and was whirled away.

As for Sir Lumley, his task was sufficiently
embarrassing. He had to ask for his son in a
club from which he had been virtually expell-
ed that very morning; and it was with a burn-
ing face and in a low tone that he asked the
waiter, who opened the door, whether Captain
Lawton was in the club. As he spoke, he slip-
ped a 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 Lawton was in. He was one
of the original members The tlemen had
kept from him the trouble in e .
came in that very morning, soon after

' a
1».

 

   

’ 

’: t—

?g- I

16

The Duke 'of Diamonds.' "

 

 

ley left, and there had been some talk between
him and the Duke of Diamantina in a private
lor with some friends. Would monsieur like
see the captain at once?”
“No; tell him I'm at She herd’s, and that I

wanttosee him as soon as 6 can come over; ‘

that’s all. "

The waiter bowed silent thanks for a second
dam-cur, and went to Ca thin Lawton, whom
he found in close confabu ation with no less a
person than Colonel Hamilton.

He delivered his message in the roper con-
fidential style, and Owen remarked) to Hamil-
ton in a lew, bitter tone:

“ You see: the fpoor old governor’s losing his
hold. He was a raid to come in and see me.
By Jove, Hamilton, I’ll call out the whole club,
man after man, but what I’ll have satisfaction
for this cowardly insult. I’ll—”

“Better get through with the one on hand,
first,” remarked Hamilton, in a tone of grim
jocula’rity. “That fellow’s a. rattler with the
foils. I’m told.”

“We don’t use the small sword. I have the
choice; and I chose sabers. I can cut anyin-
fernal foreigner that ever were hair all to pie-
ces with that, or I wouldn’t be where I am,
now.”

Owen Lawton stretched his long limbs and
rose up looking as fine and stalwart a specimen
of the hritish naval officer as one would wish

to see.
“ Well, good-by, Hamilton: ou’ll let mehave |

what you promised,” he sai( , aloud, and the
brother Briton nodded compliance with an
“ All right, old boy.”

Owen lost no time in hurrying to Shepherd’s,
where he found his father waiting anxiously in
the smoking-er whence the two proceeded
to a arlor and locked themselves in. .

“ ow, sir, in the first place, please don’t hesi-
tate to enter that club to see me, any more,” be-

an Owen, with hisarm round Sir Lumley’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 askance at
on. I’ve been to the executive committee and
insisted that they shall strike the Bord du Nil
of! the list of club papers; and if that infernal
editor dares to say another word on his own re-
sponsibility, I’ll cut his cars off. Is that plain l”

The tears came into Sir Lumley’s eyes; for
the strain of public opprobrium began to tell on
him heavily at fifty-five.

“ God bless you, Owen. God bless you, my
boy. I could stand it for myself, but I tremble
if Helen hears any of this. ”

“ She needn’t, sir Tell aunt Lora. to keep the
Bord 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, yes of course,” returned Sir Lum-
ley, hastily. “ hey’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 they have got a hold on
me in that krishnapoor business.”

‘ Jf course, sir. I know that. The Ranee’s
dead. long ago° isn’t she?”

“Of course, wen. Don’t you see, my boy,
thoinfernal artfulnessof this wholeschemei The
Renee’s dead, and firebany some woman of in-
trigue has «tot he d of her watch. It was the
mate of Lor-lia’s, you know. The Rajah and I
had them made at the same time, and he gave
his to his wife; I mine to my sister. Your poor
mother had been dead a few months, then, and
Uelt that I cared for nothing more in life. The
whole of this business hangs on those watches,
and you’ll see it.”

Owen nodded, well satisfied.

“Of course, sir. No need of ivin me any
explanation. The Ranee’s d , an 30’s the
Rajah’h bra Kalidasa. I only wish we had the
monay they id away from us.” ‘

“ e have some of it, Owen,” observed Sir
Marley, with a chuckle.

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
THE CODE OF BONOg.

“Wm, sir ” observed Owen at this moment,
rising and lookin ' at his watch “ I fear I can’t
dine with you. have a little‘dppointment for
the atf,t’ernoon, and expect a carriage every mo-
men

“ Where, Owen ?” asked his father, in sur-

rise.
p “Onl a drive, sir,” answered the captain,
evasive y. “I’ll be back about half an hour
after sunset, surely.”

“Which direction do you drive, Owen? If
you like I’ll go with you.”

“Well, thank you sir, but on this occasion
I’d rather not. I shall have compan , and I
don’t want toexpose you tothe sun. on can’t
mud it an I can, sir.’

“Oh, very Well, Owen,” was the rather of-

fended reply; “as you please. I’ll not force,

In com on on. By the by—”
here  ey turned sharply on his son
and em out:
c“ Why difid‘ii’t tell me you knew the Duke
Why not, an Because I don’t."

“ Don’t know him i”

“ Not except for a casual introduction at sea,
sir.”

“ A retty sort of casual introduction, Owen,
when e saved your sister’s life. Didn’t you
hear the story i” .

“ Oh, yes, sir. I shall always be as polite to
the duke as our position in the world requires.”

“ What do you mean ’5”

“ 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.
Surely an English peer’s the equal of any beg-
gariy Brazilian that ever were shoe—leather, I
be e.”

ir Lumley grunted assent to this truly Brit-
ish soeech and Owen went on:

“ his life-saving busmess is all very roman-
tic, you know sir, and all that sort of thing;
but it won’t oto have a parcel of be gar y
foreign dukes coming after my sister, you ow:
will it?”

“But, to tell the truth, Owen, this duke’s not
a be" ar by any means. In fact, he’s quite—”

“ f now, I know, sir. He has money enough
somewhere, and behaves like a gentleman. I
don’t object to associating with him at the club,
you know—”

“ What were you talkin about then, on
and he, at the club?”askcd ir Lumley, sud en-
ly remembering the waiter’s story.

Owen looked steadil y at his fat er.

“ I never saw him, sir.”

“ Never saw him! Why, the club waiter says
he saw ou go into a private room with t e
duke an some of his friends.”

“The club waiter was drunk or lying, sir.
But come, it’s time I was off. Good-by, s1r.”

“Owen,” interrupted Sir Lumley, catching
his son by the arm, “gou’re going to fight a
duel with the duke. on’t deny it. I see it
plainly. He pretended he’d not seen you, and
you pretend you’ve not seen him when I know
you both saw each other. What‘s it all
about?”

“ What’s all what about, sir?”

“Come: don’t pretend innocence. I’ve been
out myself, young man. Is it about this club
affair?”

“ No, sir, nothing to do with it.”

“Is it about Helen or me?”

“ Nothing of the sort, sir.”

“Is it about this watch stor 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 friend.”

Sir Lumley looked perfectly stunned for a
monaent, from causes that Owen did not under-
stan .

“ Did he say he disbelieved it, and that he was
my friend 9”

“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-
derful, are you going to fight about, Owen?”

“ I’ve not admitted we are going to do any-
thin of the kind, sir.”

“ hi Confound your honorable code, boy!
What have you difend with Diamantina
about?”

“ Well, sir, he took offense at my firin a shot
(fwer his yacht to bring him to. I apo ogized

or it.

“ Well, that ended it; didn’t it?”

“ Yes, sir.”

“Then what else had you to difl'er about
Owen?”

“ Helen, sir.”

“Helen!”

“Yes, sir. He took offense at my asking
Helen to leave the yacht and come aboard the

Snap r. She didn’t come anyhow; but he in-
siste< that my uest was a reflection on his
honor, and y ove I couldn’tngive him any

apol‘qu for that, on know, so—
“ ou fi ht to-n ght: is it so?” asked Sir Lum-
ley, eager y. -

Owen was silent.

Then the elder man went up to the younger
and ressed his arm close.

“ wen,” he said, in a low, grating voice,
“you must kill that man.”

Owen started.

“ Kill him, sir? Na I only mean to slash
him a little. He savedyHelen and my aunt af-
ter all. I don’t want to fight him, to tell the
truth; but he insists on it.”

“ Nevertheless, Owen, you must kill the Duke
of Dliamantina, if you can,” said Sir Lumley,

Owyen stared at his father in great surprise,
and hesitated for several moments before he an-
swered:

“ I can hardly do that, sir, without creating
a scandal. It’s foreign to the Code, you see,
and, we’re fighting strictly on the point of hen-
or.

Sir Lumley uttered a harsh and disagreeable

lau h.
“$oints of honor and Codes! Do you remem-
ber that this is 1877, boy? What have we to do
' odes? Do you mean to say you’re going

 

‘-

W1
i b let him kill you!"
__ “. no“ It"

 

l

“ Then what do you mean?”

“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 figve
him a lesson for forcing a quarrel on me. ut
I can’t kill him. Remember he saved Helen
and aunt Lora. It wouldn’t be the thing, you
know.”

Sir Lumley smiled in a grim and disagreeable

wa .

“YMay I ask then how you’re going to gve
him the lesson you s k of l”

“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 as will keep him from challengin
any more English officers with their nation‘s
weapon.” '

T23 baronet compressed his lips in an ill-tem-

r way.

“Well, Owen, all I can say is, ou’re a bigger
fool than I thought. In a duel, ways kill your
man if you can. Good—by.”

“ Good-by, sir.”

Father and son parted a little stifliy. Sir
Lumley felt keenly disappointed at his failure
to induce his son to commit murder under the
guise of a duel, and Owen felt hurt at his fa-
ther’s apparent indifference to his danger.

The fact was that Sir Lumie did not dare to
expose his motive to his son. e felt as helpless
as a risoner chained to the stake for torture.
He ared not tell any one what he knew, that
the Duke of Diamantina was young Kalidasa,
the rightful Prince of Krishnapoor. To do so
would be to acknowledge a foundation for the
rumors he was denying so strenuous] . Es-

cially did he shrink from letting his 0 ildren
khow the truth. They had always respected
him, and he could not bear to forfeit their to

t

s .

piie watched Owen in silence as he left the par-
lor and went into the street and saw him enter
a waiting carriage and drive away with Colonel
Hamilton, the outline of whose figure he caught
th rough the glass.

' h -n, full of uneasiness he strolled away
from the hotel, heedless of the sun, buried in
his own gloomy thoughts, till he found himself
in the bazaars, the only cool place in 3110er
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 evenin
prayer was come, and with it the coolness 0
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

pie; the watering-carts were jolting along;

Egyptian beys and pashas were taking their

evening canter; and all Cairo was out, when
the ol diplomat walked back through the
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
the passed with an expression of curiosity, and
not ced that he was the subject of comment and
conversation which his new morbid fancy in—
ter reted to his own disadvantage. »

he hue ef his sunburnt face deepened to
crimson. and he turned his head angrily away
as he trudged on to the hotel; but, once on the
steps, he turned proudly round, as if to face all
the world and defy it.

As he had expected, he found several Egyp-
tian officers looking at and pointing to him as
giey passed; for club scandal flies quickly in

t.

lenchin his hands angrily - and looking

steme bac at them, every eye turned from
his and the rude equestrians rode on, abadied.

on he heard the rapid patter of boots and
saw a lady and gentleman on horseback
down the street, rather an unusual sight in
Cairo till within the last few years.

Something in the outline of the figures struck
him as familiar, and brought the blood from
his face to his heart, leaving him of a gray pal-

lor.
Then they dashed by, the gentleman llftin
his white helmet hat in the most marked an

st
eq public recognition to the amused baro-
ne

Sir Lumley involuntarily, with the mechani-
cal instinct of early breeding, dolled his brand
turban hat and stood bareheaded in the sunset,
sail! a 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 a dream 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 time,
and yet he was n0where visible.

But the unhappy father had but just seen,
with his own eyes, his son’s antagonist, the
Duke of Diamantina, alive, unhurt, gay and
debonnair riding by with the Princess Mela-

tros, as if duels were  utter] unknown

the world of riches to w ch they longed.

Their ap co at that moment seemed to
stamp i on Sir Lumley Lawton’s brain
with the distinctnesl of 0 photograph. 30

 

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ately courtesy, while the lady bowed with _
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The Duke of Diamonds.

17

 

 

could see them both, by all means the hand
somest pair in Cairo.

Theprineess, whom he knew to be thirty-six,
lOoked like the duke’s sister, in her tight riding
habit, English style, with its tall hat and vail.

Diamantina, 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 had 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
clagisped 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, aooos . him 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 Sin Lunar: Please come over to the con-
snlate as soon as on can; but keep the thing quiet.
for it’s an affair ol honor. Owen s been hurt pretty
badly—not dangerous, ou know, but very painful
and much loss of blood. Keep it from the ladies,
and every one else. ours,
“Raoiiuw Humans.”

Sir Lumley kept his face inscrutable and ask-
ed the clerk, as be folded up the note:

“ Where’s the consulate?

But not waiting for the answer, he stalked
out jumped into a hack and drove over to tie
Bri ish Consulate, which every one in Cairo
knew.

He asked for Colonel Hamilton, and was met
by that gentleman himself, who hurrii d him to

Lumle roke down and gospel:

“ W at is it, Hamilton! 15 the boy dead?
Tell me the worst.”

The consul-general shook his he'id.

“No, no; not as had as that. But that Bra—
zilian‘s a devil with the sword. Poor Owen will
lose his right arm.
tated, to save his life.”

Sir Lumley uttered a hollow groan and sunk
powerless into a chair.

CHAPTER XXIV.
'riiE EXTRA SHEET.

THE Bord du. Nil made its bow to the foreign
public of Cairo every Saturday morning, with
a regularity that testified to Mr. Fraiikly’s
talents as a bill (-ollecter: for it is a melancholy
fact that weekly and daily journals cannot be
printed without money to pay printers and
pa r-makers.

ike many o'her Levantine papers, it was
ublished in two languages, half being in Ital-
ian, the other half French, with an occasional
extra edition in which English was substituted
for one of the Otllf-l‘ languages.

Most of these polyp o. pap< rs are edited by

vagabond Italians, who murder the English
arts of their journals in a ghastly manner; but
he Bord du Nil was an honorable exception to
the rule.

Frankly l-ad been in E :a‘pt for at least ten
years, having drifted them from another ten
years in Bump", and had become a wry expert

inguist in rll the Mediterranean tongues, with
a large stock of Arabic i l the form (.t' slang.

Like most m Wspaper min of his roving ways,
he was a Bohemian writer, who delighted in
nothing so much as a “slashing” nrticie, and
believed devoutly iii the power of the press,
muzzled though it be in Egypt.

On the div offer that in which Sir Lumley
had been stunned by the unex ted disaster
happening 0 his son, the Bard u Nil came out
Wit an En h .1 extra which was hawked about
the streets 0 C [ll 0 in true Yankee fashion, and
sold like vs i‘dfire, as Dom Gil had predicted.

Clarence Hart, who had been hunting all over
the eityio find Dom Gil Grabador, whom he
had at last begun to suspect of being the miss-
ingGilbert Carv ‘i‘, heard the boys yelling out
their praises of the pa er in a dozen different
languages, an l can rht t e words:

“ Gran due lo entre el Duque dc Diamantina
e’l signer inglcse.” (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 bought a paper at
once, paying double price in his ignorance of
Carlene prices, and saw before him a real news-
paper, with an extra sheet, printed in English,
With displayed head lines, short paragra hs,
and a general “newsy” ap rance that di his
heart good. It looked likeliegme.

He had not been able to find Dom Gil since
they first entered Cairo, for the Brazilian had
suddenly disappeared from the house of Dia-
mantina as scan as he had set it in order for his
chief, and the duke did not give Clarence any
information on the subject.

Therefore Hart, feeling uneasy and anxious,

lunged into the paper rather to distract his
ought. than for any other purpose.

In fact it’s just been ampu— g

 

i

His eye was immediately caught by the head-
lines, arranged in true sensational style:

“ THE WAGER 0F BATTLE.
DIAMONDS ARE TRUMPS.
Sanguimiry Duel Between Foreigners.
Northern Beef Against Southern Nerve.
ms sou'rn WINslll!”

The account beneath these startling headings
was as follows:

Thanks to the unequaled energy of our Sun,
the NiLn BANK is to-day the only paper in the world
that contains an account of the duel fought behind
t':e great pyramid of Gizeh, while our regular edition
Was g/oiu'g to ress.

" a were! re.

“The Nru‘. BANK staff 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. 0. L. of II. B. M.
Navy, had a little difference about a lady who shall
be nameless, and to carve each other, in gen-
tlemanly style, he ind the great pyramid, at Six
o'clock r. Ii.

“To accommodate them we kept back our regu-
lar edition for a couple of hours, and we had our re-
ward. Both men were on time.

“ The duel was just perfect.

“The appearance of the combatants when they
stripped was agreat contrast. The En lish rson
was a two hundmd-pounder, with a g den 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 ‘daisyi‘ With fifty
pounds less on his bones than John all, he was as

ard as a nut and as quick as a flash of Jersey light—
ning.

“No time was lost in preliminaries. “’0 shall not

was the duke’s object then in saving Helen
Lawton from the Arabs? If he wanted ven-

nce, he surely could have had it there by
Erma her alone to Fyzoul Abdallah’s mercy.

Pon ering over the mystery, he arrived at
the Diamantina mansion, rung the bell, and
was admitted by a smart E , ptian watchman
in militar uniform, who sai , in reply to his-
surprised ook:

‘ Dey all gone, Howadji. Me watchman till
dey come back. What name, Howadji'!"

“ Hart. l’m the duke’s’ secretary. What
does all this mean 2‘” asked the young man, be-
wildered. “ I left the house only three 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
runnsigg hand of the duke, which Hart hastily
peru . It was in the curt form of an order

~ to himself:

 

‘ give the names of the seconds because it might not ;

 

do them any good with the khedive, but will only
say this: They were (lieie all the time.

‘ John Bull got to work as soon as the blades cross-
ed, with a well—intended cut at the. l).'s head. Un-

, _ , . . fortunately the gentleman from Brazil was not there
his Own rivate apartments in haste. There Sir '

when it came, and Mr. Bull had a narrow escape
from decapitation in return.

“Then ensued the queei‘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.

“ On receipt of this go to Alexandria, call at 1:13a-
doulos, Demetri 8'. Co. They will give ou in er
orders and funds. You are to come to elapetros.

“ DulAN‘l'l’NA."

“ Melapetros,” repeated Hart to himself in a

my way: “ I never heard of such a place."

But all the mine, he took the traiute Alex-
andria that evening.

 

CHAPTER XXV.
FLmING.

THE Hon. Lorelia and her niece were yawn~
ing in the hotel parlor at Shepherd’s after
breakfast, which they had been compelled to
take alone, Sir Lumley not having Ilium: his ap-
pearance since he Went to the Consulate the

i evening before.

‘ ruefully.

of D. was most of the time behind his enemy's back ‘

waving his sword in close iroximity to the other's
head. Any one could see t nit Bull‘s life was in his
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 back his sword to give a down cut that would v

have split his skull. 111 that instant up went the D.’s
saber, and cut off his enemy‘s arm Just above the
elbow, as clean as if it had been done by a surgeon.

“We had the ilcasnre of examining the wea n i,

with which this cat was performed, and found t at
it was just as sharp as the razor of the best barber
in Cairo.

were on hand, and they had the artery tied up
jiffy, while the D. of 1)., with a polite bow to his late
fee, went off to keep an engagement with a lady.”

Thus ended the account in the Bold du Nil of
what Hart be an to think nothing but an inge-
nious hoax. 6 had seen the duke on the re-
vious evening, and he certainly did not look e
aman who had just been fighting 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 shall not need your services till
to-morrow afternoon. Till then, see Cairo.
En'oy yourself.”

ad 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 Bord 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 page.
It was much shorter than the account of the
duel, and in a different 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 \\ eek's London firms. Sir Linnley
should have insisted on open charges and showed
himself innocent. lIis retreat shows that he fears
an investigation. We are able tosa from rivate
information that the watch of the Ra ah of rishna-
poor, which Sir Lumley obtained by such peculiar
means, is now in Cairo sported by a ady who seems
to be quite proud of the stolen property. Respect
for the sex alone restrains us from givi her name,
but we would advise Sir Luinley to seek land as
soon as may be. Egyptian air is fatal to y—blown
reputations.”

Then Hart folded up his . per and fell into a
fit of deep musing as be we ked liomeward.

He was too acute not to have divined from
all he had seen the identity of the duke and the
princess. O’Shea’s stories told him at various

times 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
recognizing his uncle Gilbert Carver, in the
Gil Grabader. But what

sham Brazilian Dom

 

i and we’ll go.

“Oh, dear me, Helen,” cried aunt Lorelia,
“How ever shall we get through an-
other hot day like yesterday in this horrible

lace? What a change from that dear duke!

uinley ought to be ashamed of himself, leav-
ing us ike this all day. If we only had an es-
cort I’d not mind, but there isn’t so much as a
boy visible. What shall we do?”

“Why not takea carriage and drive out to
the pyramids, aunt? “’0 can take one belong—
ing to the hotel and be all safe.”

“ But it wouldn’t bexguite the correct thing,
Helen, to go alone. e might be robbed or
murdered b some of those Arabs.”

Helen smi ed.

' “ Oh, no, aunt. Mr. Hart told me there was-
nothing to fear in Egypt; the Arabs are in as

;.good control as the Eieoxle of London.”

“This ended the affair at once. Two surgizons 
n a .

“I wish we con mi Captain O’Shea, or
even Mr. Hart,” observed the elder lad ', mus-
ingly. “ It’s a dreadful change to be le t alone
like this. I believe we’ll ask the proprietor
what’s best to do.”

She rung the bell in the sublime faith of a
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 forei n to his usual ways.

“He would advise t 9 ladies not to worry
about Sir Lumley. There were a number of
formalities that foreign residents ’ad to pass
through, and no doubt Sir Lumlev was busy at
the Consulate ’avin ’em done. I’d advise the
ladies not to go to t e pyramids now. It’s too
’ot for pleasure. Better take the ’otel cawass
and acouple of donkeys and go to the bazars.
They’re nice and shady. You won’t sufl'er from
the eat there, ladies.”

Lorelia, imagining the cawass to be some sort
of a carriage, answered resignedly:

“Very well, then. Get the cmvass ready
We’ll be back for dinner. ”

As she spoke, she drew out that fatal watch,
the innocent cause of so much trouble, and con-
suited it with her usual languidly affected in-
difference.

The landlord looked at it, bowing and rub—
bin his hands. '

“ eg pardon, my lady, I’m sure, but that’s a
monstroust pretty wateh of yours. Can’t ’el
noticing it, you know. Beg rdon, my lady. '

This tickled Loreiia mighti y, and she opened
it very slowly for consultation, 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 lwas down-stairs observed to the room
c r :

fiThat ’ere paper’s right Dobbs.
the watch, sure as a gun. l
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
the cuwass was ready.

Presently a tap came at the door, and Lorelia
cried: “ Come in.”

A huge, piratical-looking man, with a black
heard at covered his broad chest: with shoul-
ders like Atlas and the muscles of a Hercules;
stood at the door, dressed in rub velvet and
goldlace,witha yellow silk sail: round hip

never saw sich a

She’s got.’

   
 

, ,rV _ ..r - --v

 

  

3,, ‘ .2 , vow--

gulf! .

The Duke of Diamonds.

 

 

waist that positivel bristled with knives, pis-
tols, yatagbans 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. shi'icked and Helen started back in
affright.

The pirate at the door smiled in a manner un—
expectedly gentle, and said in a deep bass
Veice:

“Donkeys ready ladies.”

Then aunt Lorelia in trembling tones van;
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
began to perceive they had mistaken a peace-
ab e rter and messenger for a )irate.

“ nd are you to take us to t e bazar?” ask-
ed Lorelia, more boldly.

“Wherever my lady chooses to go. Pyra-
mids if she likes.

But aunt Lorelia did not want to go to the
pyramids. She preferred the bazars and felt
perfectly safe now. This piratical cawass was
ashandsome as a picture in his fine imposigfi
style and Lorelia secretly wished, as he lif
her bodilydike a. baby to put her on her donkey,
that she could have sue 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
N icolo step out beside their donkeys on the
wag to the .

ever had Lorelia enjo ed herself so much as
she did that day under t e guidance of Nicole
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 everyt ing she
wanted to know.

When at last they left those seducing pre-
cincts the Hon. Virgin’s purse was much lig ter
than when it went in, and Helen was complete-
ly satiated with color and pictu ueness.

Nicolo the cawass had done that a service
he did not quite understand but whic was none
the less a valuable one to Git Lumley Lawton.
He had kept the ladies in the native part of the
town and out of all hearin of the newsboys
crying the Bard 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 apparent] as tranquil as
if he had but just parted from t em.”

“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
grufily. “ icolo can do the honors here bet-
ter than I can. Have you seen enough of
“its: ’ l t be t

‘ a ,weve on jus n 0 see
it i” crigd Elfin, animate  “ Thggse bazars
are just too awfully lovely or anything.”

Poor Helen was not proof against the seduc-
tions of slang.

“Well,” replied her father, in a hard, con-
strained sort of voice, “ today will have to set
isf you. We start for Alexandria by the six
-o’c ock train tomorrow morning, and you’ll
have to do your packing to—night, girls; that’s
all 71

on have,” returned Sir Lumley,

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 incapacity to
stem the current of newspaper clamor by step-

ing the Bard du Nil or cutting off the ears of
g‘rankly, as he had boasted he would do, put a
different face on the whole business. The jour—
nal sold through the streets as only spicy social
scandalscan sell and there was no one to stop
the yelling of the newsboys.

Colonel Hamilton was powerless, now. In
the oodness of his heart he hadviolated the law
for Eis friend’s sake, and had already received
aprivate hint comin from the Khedive, that
no notice would be ta on of the matter unless
there was any further trouble, in which case
the Vicero would be obliged to ate the Bord
do Nil, an at the same time to write the Brit-
ish Government requesting Hamilton’s dis-
missed.

Thus, as we have said, the Lawtops were
"powei‘lcm, father and son, and had to Sit still .in
a darkened room, while all Cairo waggcd its
tongues about tl' em. ‘

Poor Owen was reduced to the weakness of a
child, he who had been so strong and domineer—
ing, and he lay‘ on his back looking gloomily 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: but to lose it in a duel, and just now when
those other hounds are openin cry on you, sir;
l find it pretty hard lines, I to you.”

'II

 

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
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,
in dear boy ?”

‘I don’t know, sir. I never saw such a. fol-
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 guard, flourishing his blade
close to your face, never saw in anv one. I
could have cut him fifty times, for he never
guarded; but I was afraid of taking a return

low at the same time, and the swords were
just like razors. Then at last I grabbed him,
and in the same moment he cut off 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 asflre.
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
space of time and then it was determined that
t ey should ail 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 :

day the patient could go a short journey by
rail, as the wound-fever would be over and sup-
puration have set in toward recovery.
Accordin ly iprom tto the a iiited hour,
and before ash onab 0 modern giro had quit-
ted its bed, the Lawtons were steaming toward
Alexandria at twenty miles an hour, the cap-
tain in a separate car, attended by the old 801-
dier-nurse, his father and female relatives in
another car, the women even ignorant of his
vicinity, much more of his danger.

CHAPTER XXVI.
A GREEK COMMISSION HOUSE.

TEE Greek house of Papadoulos, Demetri 8:
00., dealers in figs, Latakia tobacco, dates,
olives, rice, cotton, rhinoceros horns, elephant
tusks, hides, antelo horns, hippopotamus
teeth, gold-dust, calicocs, hardware, teas and
coffees, 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 awayto the
handsome qua_ by the Old Port, where, within
sight of the eating dock, Ras-el-Teen light—
house, and a forest of shipping, stretched the
dingy ellow 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 true 8 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 absenco of the usual
and deafening thunder and rattle that attendsa
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 1 s 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 ente the huge warehouses.

There was no one to direct him: not a single

rter seemed to care whether he ran a inst

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 fi 3 and
raisins to the decidedly objectionable pm of
raw hides, badly cured, till he spied, off in one
corner of the warehouse, a little boarded-up
shed with a window, which he naturally too
for some sort of an office.

Tapping at this window, it was 0 ned by a
little weazen-faced, black-eyed old reek in a
velvet cap, who popped out his 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 n Clarence, in Englis , when
the old Greek jabbered away faster than ever,
holding up a card and gesticulating violent] .

Clarence produced one of his own cardsw ich
he had procured in Cairo, and the sight seemed
to moll fly the old Greek, for he smiled 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

airing-tube and the old Greek set his ear to
t e orifice an resently turned to Hart, saying
in labored English

“ You-a— lessee—come a.”

Re how and smiled with the utmost polite-

 

ness now; came out of his hole, revealing him-
self as a slender, bowed old man, in a red velvet
jacket, white silk petticoat, and red velvet leg-

. gings; a yellow sash round his waist completing

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 dusty staircase,
into a second story of vast silent warerooms,
full of merchandise, oiled up to the open roof,

I flit feet above them.

hreadin their way through a devious path

1 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—vilLa—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
tie-beams of the roof, when they came on a
light gallery which took them out to the side of
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

5 low tablesz he was introduced by the old Greek,
1 who said, indicatinga gentleman inside:

 

“ Papadoulos. ”

Clarence entered a little at a. loss what lan-
guage to use, but he was set at ease by Mr.

apadoulos who proved to be a fine ay-
bearded 01 man in the picturesque Greek reds,
who came to meet him, saying:

“Mr. Hart, I have expect you today, sare.
I s’all be glad to see you now. You ’ave just
arrive?”

“Yes, sir, b direction of—”

“Yes yes, know. M. le Due de Diaman-
tina. You are his secretai're, his good friend.
Were you ever at Mela tros, Monsieur Hart?"

“ No, 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 Princesse. ou s’all have
sage on de barque Euphrosyne. She sai to—
morrow. Do you know my partners, sure?”

“ N o, sir.” '

“Well, 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. Gly terps.’

Clarence wed 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
be in its best place behind the reading-desk of a
country Methodist parish in Connecticut.

“ Very happy to make your acquaintance,”
said Mr. Glyéiteros in a regular Yankee tone of
voice. “It oes me good to see a Bomting face
once more. ”

CHAPTER XXVII.
MR. GLYPTEROS.

CLARENCE HART looked with some 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. Glypteros’i” he asked, with curiosity.

“ Waal, yes I used to live there once,”
drawled Mr. Giy teros; “ and I hain’t forgotten
how to talk yet, guess.”

“I should think not,” remarked Hart, point-
edly. “ I should have taken you for an Ameri-
can anywhere. You could never disguise that
accent.”

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 toosure of that,” he observed.
“I’ve seen the time when my own blood rela-
tions couldn’t tell who I was, from my voice.”

f‘ h, I suppose you mean your Greek
friends,” assented Hart. “That’s quite likely.
I never should have taken you for a Greek, m -
self, you know. But you could never hide t e
Yankee accent if you spoke English.”

“Guess not,” remarked Glypteros. with a
wink at Mr. Papadoulos. “ The Americans are
a darned si ht smarter than the Greeks; ain’t
that; Papa oulos?”

rence could not understand what the joke
was between the two, but from some cause or
other the old merchant be an to laugh in a.
soft, polite way, and Mr. ypteros sniggered
audibly, while the head of the house extracted
his snuff-box from the red sash he wore and of-
fered it to Hart, sa ing: .

“Will you not ta e a pinch sare? line it for
my eyesi ht. I am told it clears the sight won—
derfully. ’

And then all three laughed :fnin, Hart not
understanding the joke, but to ng it good-no-

y if, as he began to surmise, it wasps»
tially at his own expense.

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Then the American was struck by a sudden
thought, and asked:

“Have you known the Duke of Diamantina
rer long, gentlemen?”

ll r. Papadouios smiled and looked reflectiver
at his snuff—box.

“ ch, sarc. We ’ave know do duke since he
was born, 1 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 'ah?”

Mr. apadoulos instantly changed his whole
manner. From a polite, gentle old man he be-
came a sort of statue of ice, saying, as he turned
awn , in the drycst of voices:

“ vill get you your orders from the duke,

them.”

He sat down at his desk and began to sort
among some pa rs, while Clarence turned
crimson at his re ufl'. stammering to Mr. Glyp-
teros, who regarded him with e ual coldness:

“I beg your pardon, but thought that
among friends—’

“I guess you’re a pretty oung man,” re-
marked 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 af—
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 that 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 crestfa len. “I 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

robably know him. Do you know whether
his real name is Gilbert Carver or not?”

Mr. Gly teros looked milder.

“Do I now Dom Gil? Waal, yes, I ought
to. Is his name Carver? Waal, Grabador’s
Spanish for Carver, that’s certain. ’

“ And where is Dom Gil now i” asked Clarence,
anxiously.

Mr. Gly teros laughed again.

“Dom We 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?"

“Gil Carver? Waal, rather. He was a good-
for-nolhing, shiftlem 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 hl” grunted Gly teros, and he turned
awa to ook out to sea. ‘ She might be better
Emlp’Pyed than praying for such a loafer as

l

Clarence colored high, and laid his hand on
the other’s shoulder. ‘

“ Look here Mr. Gly tcros,” 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
m face. I expect an apology sir.”

mething or other seemed to tickle Mr.
lepteros mightily, for he laughed in a pecu-
liar silent manner as he answered:

“ Geerewsaleml Do you mean you’d call me
out if I didn’t?”

“I certainly should, sir,” cried Hart, impa-
tiently. “ I don’t wish to make a disturbance
before Mr. Papadoulos, but I’ll not hear my

r uncle called a loafer by any man. It’s a
alsehood, 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,” reto Clarence, firmly.
“ This gentleman shall apologize or else—”

Pa oulos rose

“ ntlee. sare. Pardon. What is de trouble?
Monsieur Glypteros ’ave insult you? Impea-
aible l”

“ He called my uncle a loafer.”

“ A loafair?~vat is datl”

“ It means an idle, good-for-nothing vaga-
bond.”

“Loafair? Dat is Americana, I suppose.
Monsieur Glypteros, I am su rise you should
insult dis gentleman, friend 0 the Duke of Dia-
mantina. Dis entleman, you call him loafairi”

“ N o, no,” said Clarence, beginning to feel a
little ashamed of his heroiCS. “ Not me; it was
.m uncle.”

‘ Your uncle, sare? Vat uncle?”

“One whom I sus t to be the same with
Dom Gil Gabrador, retorted the American,
impatient at the questions. “Gilbert Carver.
He said he was a}! lpaffer; and by heavens he
shall a lo 'ze or It 01‘ it.

HerePOME1 Glyptesros, who had been silent
while Papadoulos took up the parable, broke in
with his usual drawl: . . n

“ Waal, in that case, it’s so much easrer to he
“a to fight that I take it all back, cunnel. Gil

De asking of questions is not among

 

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 SClZI‘d it
and ave it a pressure under which the bones
crac ed, 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 ripe of a giant, repeating:

“Gil arvci’s a gentleman by Hokey, and
he’s got a entleman for a nephew. Stick :1 pin
in that. End you was goin’ to tight me about
Gil! Waal, was], if that warn’t real spunk '.
Why, sonny you wouldn’t be only a babby In
my hands, but all the same, I gloryin your
spunk. I do, by Jiminv 1”

When he dropped Hart’s hand at last the

oung man felt that Mr. Glypteros had not
boasted idly. He felt for a moment as helpless
as if he had been really a baby, his hand ut-
terly'unable to perform its ofiice till he had
smoothed it out and a110wed 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 Larnam. There you will meet
the duke’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, Cl Djemel, which will carry you
to Mela .tras. You are to try while on the
way to earn as much of the Romaic as you
can, for the duke wishes his secretary to be ac-
complished. Dat is all, sare, except de funds.
I am direck to y you one thousand Liras
Turk on account or salary and expense. Here
is de sum in de queenee Ingles.”

And old Papadoulos handed hima little roll
of gold-pieces which represented to Clarence a
whole year’s salary on the scale of U. S. navy

y.

“ Now monsieur,” continued the old mer-
chant, “I ’ave only to wish you a good royage
and invite you to come to dinner at my house
this evening. You vill lodge of course at de
Mehemet A i Hotel. I vill send my carriage for
you. Aurwoir.”

And he bowed Clarence out of the ofllce, Mr.
Glypteros giving him a cool nod as he went.

 

CHAPTER XXVII I
INVALIDS.

THAT afternoon was spent by the American I

in strolling about Alexandria, seeiu whatever
was to be seen and much interested in the mot-
le crowd which hurries to and fro in this city
oiyiahe border land between Em 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 3

shriek of the locomotive warned him that
another train was coming in at the station, and

be determined to go and see the passen ers 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 dis , 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 slowly along, resting his only arm
round the neck ofastout fe110win 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 sigh t, for be judged that the arm
had been but recently amputated from the pale-
ness of the sufferer.

He made his way toward the injured man
and soon recognized Helen Lawtons brother,
his face unshorn and haggard, all his old
haughty strut gone, a general air of gloom and
languor possessing him.

Vt 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-
riage for the hotel. They’ve not seen you yet.
Now I’ll help on.”

“ I’m afrai I’m going to faint, 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 him, and he hastily ran to
Owen, saying in a tone of authority:

“Let me 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.

1‘ 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-
Edtlgm into a carriage which took them to the

o .

All the time they were ridin Owen Lawton

lay back with his eyes closed, and Clarence

 

! saw that he had not reco ized him. The dif-
i icrence of dress (for he ad worn the yacht’s
, uniform when last they met and now he was all
‘, in regular Frankish white) served as a disguise;
‘; and even when he gave his name neither gentle-
: man seemed to associate it with the Duke of
‘ Diamautina, for the baronet began to tell him
the story of the duel with much bitterness
against the Brazilian.

Owen was too weak to say much, but once
he put up his hand and whi. red:

‘ Hush. sir; it was all fair. We must keep
the secret.”

Hart could not help a certain feeling of ad-
miration for this youn man who bore his 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 soldiervnurse had caused 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 to dress for Mr. Papadoulos’s dinner ac-
cording to engagement, and as soon as he had
donned 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
brfiez? d good 1 th H: h‘

eoun a many pe ereie 1m-

self, and almost the firstpigg stumbled "“ were
Sir Lumley Lawton, the Hon. Lord... and
Helen enjlc‘zinfi the same 0001 view.

“ Why . art where have you been, and
how is that dear, dear duke and our darling
princess!” asked the Hon. Lorelia, 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 top of her fan in a manner in-
dicating some embarrassment.

As for Sir Lumley he was so much surprised
; that he ejaculated:

“Why, bless me, Lorelia, do you knew the

1 doctor!”
“The doctor? Well, es, I believe he is a
doctor, but to me he’s a wa 3 Mr. Hart, who
saved Helen and me from t e clutches of the
angw 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 allemm

drowning, but it was no use against the Arabs.
For that we must all thank the Duke of Dia-
mantina and his us.”

“And how is that dear duke?” again asked
Lorelia, while Sir Lumley sat drumming on the
j arm of his chair and Helen looked out to sea as
' steadily as before.
= “I could not say, madam. The duke left
Cairo yesterday and I may not see him for
months.”

“ What] have you left him?” suddenly asked
, Helen’s voice, in a wa that showed she was not
v by any means an indi erent listener.

“ No, Miss Lawton, I sail to join him at Mela-
petros to-morrow.” ,

“ And where’s Melapetros?” asked she, in the
same abru t way.

“To tell the truth, I don’t knew,” 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. “VVe’re going home by
we of Athens you know and surely the duke
wil be at Athens.”

“ Well, Miss Lawton, I see a carriage comi
for me, and as I have an engagement to dine
will say an retoir.”

And Clarence backed out into the passage
l and was (going down—stairs, when he felt Sir
, Lumley’s band, and lo! the baronet had foll0w- ,
ed him quietly, and now whispered:

“ ’ve told my daughter but my sister must
not know of Owen’s woun . lVill you keep the
‘ secret?”

“ Certainly, Sir Lumley.”

“You are connected with the Duke of Din-
mantina, siri” ‘

“ 1 am his secretary, sir.”

“ You know who he 13, sir?”

“I know that he is a gentleman of noble *
i character, Sir Lumley.”

The baronet scowled at him.
, “ Curse his noble character! He has maimed
I my son for life, and I’ll get even with him for
it. Tell him that when you see him.”
i Clarence stared at his companion in haughty
1 5111?] ise.
; ‘ I’ll give him the warning, if not the mes-
‘ an e, Sir Lumley. Gocd-day.”
he baronet looked do“ n the stairs after him
and round his teeth.
1 “ urse him i” he muttered. “They all like
3 him and are all against me. How shall I kill
, him?”
He remained brooding over the means of
, clearing Diamantina from his path till it we
1 time to go back to the piazza, where he surpris-
! ed his sister by his gloom so '“uch that she pro
i nounced him a “grumpy old bear.”
He coal not see his way clear.

 

 

    

 

 

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The Duke of Diamonds.

 

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I
CHAPTER XXIX.\
FATAL CURIOSITY.

A ransom 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 d that inasmuch as it would be
impossible to kee the matter forever from L0-
reha, 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 hisheart t at his secret was no secret to at
least two people besides Diamantina and the
princes; 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 o upto O’Shea
in the midsto the street, and he (1 out his hand,

as n :

x1055mm, 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 stiff.

“ And yet you’re joining my enemies to
blacken m ' character,” said the baronet, bit-
terly. “ on were a sergeant when I first saw

on, in a cor s where no man ever yet rose
rom the ran 3; and I got you a commission
and helped you along. You’ve no cause to turn
a ainst me, O’Shea, at least.” -.
he 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 sur rised.

“For ,t’roopsl What troops? \ e don’t own

rus.

“Sure, don’t ye know Lord Beaconsfleld’s
made a treaty With the Porto, and that seven
thousand troop: are coming from India to
Malta ?” 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 approachin them atall, thin
yellow personage, in a shamb ing nautical sui
of blue serge, and asked:

“ Who is this Yankee, and where is he going?”

“His name‘s Carver, and he commands a ship
going on a roving trip in the .ZEgean, ending at
Athens.”

“ Then, by Jove, he’s my man,” said Sir Lum-
ley to himself. as he watched the tall Yankee
chaflering with O’Shea, and wondered to him-
self where he had seen his face.

The ca tain’s business was soon settled, and
he turne to Sir Lumley.

“It’s all rl ht Sir Lumley. We sail to-ni ht.

g lifiss Helen was goin’along. t’ll
be a ppleasant trip for her, if she does.”

“ erhaps we may,” assented the baronet.

“Have you any more room in your cabin,
Mr. —ah— haven t the pleasure.”

“Carver sir, Captin Carver air my handle,”
answered t e sailor, with a strong nasal accent.
“ Room in the cabin? 410w many air there?”

“ Three of us—two ladies.” I

“ Then I’m jest the critter kin do it, cunnel ”
was the eager reply. “ Do you want to go
Athens, qinetly ?”

'4‘ Yes.)

Sir Lumley gave a slight shudder. He wanted
to lose himself for a little while till that horri—
ble newspa r story died out. He couldn’t bear
to think 0 goin on a P. 85 O. steamer, now,
where every one new him, and would be pest-
ering him with all sorts of questions.

Ca tain Carver clapped him on the shoulder

I Ina amiliar way.

“Say no more; the cabin air yourn, if you
like to pay the pricc, a hundred dollars a head.
We’ll be some time on the v’y’ge, cunnel, but
ye don’t kee’r for that, I s’pose?”

.H 0.

“And ye’ll be as uiet as the grave, all the
time? Kin ye talk reek, cunnel?”

“1qu to read it at schoo ,” answered the

" beast, shortly.

 

“ Waal, e’ll heva chance tobrush 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 tol him, and went with him to
the bank, where he paid out, with cat satis-
faction, his assage mone , afterw ich he de-

arted with ’Shca to the otel, where he found

ieutenant Sloman who had come, full of sym-
pathy for his unlucky commander, 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 forget her selfishness
so far as to pity and condole with poor Owen,
as the sailors took him of! on a litterto the port;
and Helen wept. bitterly, erha 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.

0 had 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 ck up and depart herself; and
neither of t 6 ladies had any objection to Sir
Lumlcy’s plan of a quiet sail amon the Greeks
of the 1Egean. There was something mysteri-
ous in the air, Helen could not tell what, that
gave her a vague feeling of uneasiness while
they stayed in Sgypt.

She was quiet and observant, and had noticed
that; the penle at the table d’hete stared at
them every time her eyes were away, and then
looked guilty and ashamed of themselves when
detectc .

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 handsomely, brought
her a small pile of Alexandria and Cuirene pa-
pers, on the to of which, in conspicuous cani-
tals, she saw t e Bord du Nil extra, with t ic
account of the duel, a light and frivolous jest,
as she thought it, on the maiming and almost
death of her on ly brother.

Pale with im ignation she read it through,
and then turned to the ll‘rench art, where she
came on that leader which had riven Sir Lum-
ley out of Cairo. As she slewly readit half-
aloud, her face grew paler and paler, and then
she rose up and threw down the paper on the
floor, trampling on it and muttering with white

1 s:
8‘ Oh, the cowards! To stab a gentleman in
his sorrow like that!”

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 ie true nature of
the accusation against her father.

With a choking sob the 'r girl clutched the
two papers up and hurrie away to the silence
of her own apartment, where she wept hitter
tears of shame and anger at her sudden degra-
dation.

Now she understood the loom of her father
since they were at Shepher ’5; his sudden flight
from Cairo, and their present tri to sea.

“Oh Father of Mercy 1” sob Helen, “ can
it be t 6? 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 degradin to all pretensions
of gentlemanly character, t at she oaned in
very bitterness of anguish as she t ought of

it.

A traitor who betrayed a noble rince to
death; a thief who robbed acorpse; 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

ea rd the quick imperative knock of her father
at her door. "

“ Nelly, my child, quick, are you ready? The
porters are here for the baggage.”

Sheo ned the door and came out with the
papers n her hands.

“ Is that true 5’”, was all she said, her- blue
eyes gleaming out of a wan white face at him.

Sir Lu mle staggered back.

F‘ My G ” he cried. “How did you get
those papers?”

“ Is it true 7” she repeated; and then, as he
paled in silence she said, in a stran e, hard
voiflefi” “It is. I see it in your face. 0d help
Ill

CHAPTER XXX.
AMONG THE SPONGE-FISHEBS.

THERE is no part of the world perhaps where
the combination of natural beauty and 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 enjoynient
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 canal is on every shore that is un-

own to them.

The Lawton famil , after their late experi-
ence in Egypt, foun the repose on board the.
good shi Aphrodite very pleasant.

To He en es cially, whose pride had been
sorel lacerat , it was a blessed relief. Aunt
Lore ‘2; found it a bore; but aunt Lorelia did
not know all, as her niece did.

To Sir Lumley it seemed as if he had esca ’
from the bad conse uences of his former life,
and he was content 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 skip r,
with his Greek crew, treated them with r ect
res t, asking no qucstions; while a tain
0’ hea was unusually ci urteous, even for aim.

Thus they loitered about the coast of Cyprus,
movin from port to pat on all sorts of er-
ranus, he skipper seeming to have made a sort
of general express agency if his ship, delivering
.his cargo in small arcels, till 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 re-
ceedings of the. ivers, the skipper told t em
they Could take the ship’s shore-boat with a pair
of ours 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 English, the little party
of four left the Aphrodite, which at once-
squared her main—yard and stood off 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 ood gracious, l Lumley 1” she cried,
“ those pirates—Pin sure they must be pirates—
are leaving us. We shall all be murdered.”

“Oh, nonsense, Lora,” answered Sir Lumle ,
though himself a little 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 greetings in Greekz of which they only
understood “Kalimt‘ra” (‘ Good-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 by and, looking up, saw a large, brown-
sailcd elucca gliding in amonglthe sponge-fish-
ers, and heading strai ht for t eir own craft.

Imagining1 that she ad come to collect loads
from t e ot er boats they id no attention to
her beyond noticing the picturesqueness of her
appearance, till they were surprised and alarm-
e to find her bumping up against them as if
she meant to run them down.

The next moment, a big, black-mustached
fellow, with a red jacket, blue leggings, white
kilt, sash full of pistols, and a general des-
peradolook about im. caught up the inter
of their boat with a boat-hook, coclly u led the
rope on board and hauled ittaut ere t ey could
recover from their first surprise.

“ What the devil are you doing there?” shout-
ed Sir Lumley, as econ as he could recover his
senses. “ Let go that painter, you Greek ruf-
flan you!”

The only replhy of the Greek was:

“Kaliméra, eerie,” (Good-day, sir,) deliver-
ed in a mocking-kind of manner, as be secured
the end of the painter to a belaying—pin: and
then the felucca glided away through the midst
of the sponge-fishers, who laughed and jabbered
Greek to each other, as if the whole thing were
a eod joke, as the foreigners were towed away.

‘ir Lumley’s first anger had given way to a
sensation of uneasiness; Lorelia was screaming,
Helen pale with fear; while Captain O’Shea was.
fumbling in vain in the lpockets of his coat, lyin
on the seat, for a isto , which he remembered
too late he had lef behind him.

And in the meantime the felucca swept on,
towing the boat through the water bumpin

ainst her, an unresisting captive, till they ha
goeared the sponge-divers and were standing out

sea.

“What do you suppose they want, O’Shea?”
asked Sir Lumley, now thoroughly alarmed.

“Divil a one 0’ me knows,” was the flustered
reply; for O’Shea be an to feel decidedly un-
comfortable. “May we’ve poached on some.
of their sponge preserves.”

“ But where’s the A to?” asked the halo.

net, peering roiind him and seeing nothing in

 

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eight. “ 'Shea, I begin to be afraid that we‘re in i
had hands.“
“ Didn’t I tell you so, Lumley ?" cried Lorelia, sob.
hing. “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
cut.” ,

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 liulwarks hid them from view.

Presently, finding themselves left entirely alone in A
the boat, the courage of all began to revive; and
O‘Shea proposed in a whisper that he should cut the
Baillll‘l‘, and that they should try to ull away. Sir

umle amented, and made readyt e oars to put ‘
out, w tile O’Shea opened his pocket-knife.

But no sooner did the blade come near the rope,
than in a trice a dozen heads were thrust over the
bulwa while a torrent of Greek imprecations
convin them that they were watched. .

O‘Shea pretended not to understand, and contm-
ued sawing away at the rope. when, “flash .’ bung I"
wont a isto and a bullet whizzed close to his head
and sp h into the sea beside him, causin him
to drop his work 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 thefi i
crowded to the side of the felucca and be an to ca
them by words and signs to come on boar .

Again their Greek made itself comprehended in
short order, for when Sir Lumley shook his head
and «died out, “ No! No!“ one of the mustached
and kilted mariners deliberately pulled out a huge
Turkish pistol, with a bore about'an inch in diameter,
and blazed away into the bottom of the boat, close
to Sir Lumley‘s feet, starting such a leak that the
beat began to fill in a hurry.

After that little lesson in modern Greek there was
no more hesitation, aunt Lorelia being one of the
first to scramble up the side of the felncca, so that
they were soon on board a large, dirty Mediterranean
.Iponge-vessel, as it seemed to be, with greasy and
sandy decks, a strong smell of stale fish and oil,while l
the most ferocious ot of cutthroats in the shape of
a crew crowded curiousl round them.

Ev man was arm to the teeth, with knives
and stuck in silk sashes; and they all
look as if 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
with pure classical profiles and long black curls and
mustaches.

Aunt Lorella, with all her terror couldn‘t help
thinking of Byron’s Conrad and other icturesque .
ecamps, and fancying herself a new edora, (of
uncertain 

Once on rd, however, they were treated with
perfect courtesy. The sailors saluted them with:

“ Kaliméra, We,” to the men, “ Kaliméra ,
guinie," to the ladies: which, as they already knew, l
was the common salutatlon.

Then they were motioned to the stern of the
f ~lucca, where they were provided with seats on a
h each; and the vessel sguared 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.

Where were they going and what were these
3 nge—fishers doing in the role of pirates? None of
"t rem could tell; but an uneasy sense of somethin
1m ndin took possession of all as night felf,
:an still t e felucca held on her course.

CHAPTER XXXI.
la. secures.

Ts: native home of the brigand, pure and simple,
has been found in Greece for a ood many years.
'The Bandits of the Abruzzi in Its ,and the road-

nts of Australia and early Cal' ornia, are much
it e them in general characteristics; but they have
not yet attained the perfect system of lunder and
terrorism which marks the Greek b gand in his
native mountains. g.

All the efforts of the Greek overnment to-dig' are
unable to stamp out this n iar feature of reek
society, and it will proba ly never be done ,till the
countrg is as thickly p0 ulated as E land.

The rigands live in t e mountains, 'ause Greek
mountains are nearly inaccessible to anything but
goats and Greek robbers.

They keep near the Turkish frontier, so that, if
the Greek troops chase them, they can quickly es~
cape into neutral territo . If the Turks take of-
fense at their pranks on oslem soil then they are
back in Greece and have become ardent patriots in
a very few hours.

All the villagers know them; fear them hide them;
lie for them; pay blackmail to them: and share their
plunder whenever the bandits come into houses for
a gears delglaucéi aflt‘erbiagood haul.

uc are is re ands toda . F‘ift ears
ago the varied their little amusemegts on ii.in by
Kiratlca expeditions at sea, till screw steamers a‘nd
eavi‘ ns rendered that sort of thing too dan er-
ous. eir present Kimies are therefore confined to
the persons of brot er Greeks of other provinces,
r devils of Syrian fruit merchants and such like.
hey avoid forel Iers, whose governments have
steamshi carry n big guns.

Up in t e wildest astnesess of the Morean moun-
tains lived for a good many cars a ver icturesque
and remarkably wicked oll rson 0 tie name of
Kecrie Sokréhtie‘, or as we 5 ould call him Mr. So-
crates

Mr. Socrates, in the spring of 1877. rejoiced in a
very venerable. white board, winch gave him the ap-
pearance of his distinmiislwd namesake of old, but
which did not prevent him from being the most dar-
ing, the richest and the most successful brigand of
Greece since the days of liade Stavros, made famous
by Edmund About. .

Kcerie Sokrfihtie was dressed in the usual gor-
us style of Greek brignnds, most of his fortune
ng on his person or these of his sons and da h- z
tors, in the shape of gold and jewels. Among ot er 1
evidence. of wealth, he possessed about a dozen ‘
American revolvers, of the old pattern, very rare in 1
Greece except among the regular troops, and he i
knew how to use them.

Reade Sokrahtié, or Mr. Socrates, (as we will call i

 

 

‘ Egina; Athens; the

him for the sake of our readers,) was looking out

over the beautiful 1panorama below; the be. of
irtsus; the thousand islan s of

the blue 1E ean sea; the olive-clad hills of Atti

and the w ruins of old temples; when he hea

the cry] of an owl in broad dayhght, and smiled, well

ease .
D It was the signal that there were travelers comin

, that way. and that the sentries of the band ha
' e iedt e

m.
he thrifty old gentleman instantly dropped be-
hind a rock on which he had been leaning, took off

‘ his gold-embroidered ca , stuck his head into the

midst of a tuft of heat er among the rocks, and
peered out into the pass below.

He and his band had a way of taking toll of all

eoEle passing on the mountain road from Athens to

ur ey, through the renowned defile of Thermopylae.

Presently he saw the leaders of a la 6 party of
men coming up the rugged road. At the ead was a
dark, handsome ntleman, on a mare of wonderful
beauty, closely ollowed by a lady in a dark blue
habit, equally well mounted and Mr. Socrates
grinned with delight, as he sai to himself:

“These are English chickens; they will bear a
good deal of plucking."

After the lady and gentleman came a long string
of )ack-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 them so easily as
he had at first tho ht, when his attention was at-
tracted by a noise a ve his head.

Turni quickly, for brigands are alwa nervous
about t ngs above 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 by a
voice shoutin down to him:

“The hill‘s ull of them. Don‘t fire!"

He r ized the voice of his own lieutenant; and
a momen later out came his band, twenty-three
in number, all told, looking chop-fallen. They
seemed to have been for once completely entrap-

pfir. Socrates saw gunobarrels on the top of every
rock above him, saw the travelers in front of him
calmly halting, and finally concluded that the best
thing he coul do was to come boldly out and claim

, to be a peaceable peasant.

Therefore Mr. Socrates put up his pistol; pulled
out his sash as broad as he could get it, tocover
his arsenal; then walked out as meekly as any nice

' old gentleman taking a stroll, and remarked, afra-

bl ;

‘Y‘ Kallmt‘ra, keerie ; Kaliméra, guinic” (Good-day,
sir- good-day, ma’am).

The lady and gentleman in front smiled at him,
and the entleman said, in very good Romaic:

“ Good-day Mr. Socrates. I am veg happy to
meet you, at last. I wish you to do a lit favor, for
which I will pa you liberally."

Mr. Socrates owed to the ground.

“ I am the lowest slave. of your 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 sympathy with every-
thing free to wish to put even a tiger in a cage.
These 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 way.

“ You do not know who I am. I W] 1 tell you.
Have mver heard of the Duke of Diamantina?"

Mr. tes pulled his beard in a meditative way.

“ No, keerie, if your excellency is pleased to par-
don me.”

“The Turks call me the Lord of all Jewels. I see
that you have a very handsome yataghan there.
Let me exchange this for it."

And he drew from under his coat a small revolver,
barrel and cylinder heavil gilt, while the butt posi-
tively blazed with dlamon s, set in rough silver.

Keerie Sokrahtie uttered a cry of rapture and ex-
changed weapons in a twinkling. He was an old
person of uncommon dgment.

“ Your excellency is worth to be the King of
Greece,” he protested, “ and as only to give his
orders for me to obey them.”

“ Then show me where you live," smiled Diaman-
tlna, and the venerable professor of pillage obeyed.

He had not very far to go.

The roads in that vicinity were so little frequented
that Mr. Socrates and .his friends had no need to
hide their ordinary habitations. .

He conducted the duke up a narrow bridle-path to
a little plateau on the to of a bill, which command-
ed an extensive view 0 the country round, where
was set up a rude lean-to of poles, thatched with
straw, before which the embers of a fire 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 9"

“ Far from ere,” answered Mr. Socrates, eva-
sivel . “ We have more than one.“

“ Well,” replied the duke, “in that case this must
do for awhile. I wish to hold a little private talk
with you. Order all your hand back out of hear-
ing.”

Keerie Sokrfihiifi obeyed, much mystified, and the

attendants all retired to a distance, from whence i

they observed the duke and the. lady talking earnest-

’ ly with the old robber-chief for nearly half an hour.

At the end of that time Mr. Socrates was heard to
as aloud:
be ‘it ‘our excellency shall be satisfied. On my head

 

CHAPTER XXXII.
IN a srsnosnss.

CLARENCE HART was doomed to experience a good
many mystifications before he again saw either the
duke or Dom Gil. The Euphrosyne, on which he
embarked for Cyprus. was one of Mr. Papadoulos‘s
vessels, and she proved to be a slow sailer, without
a single man on board who understood anything but
Groc and Hart found he had plenty of time to
learn the new hmguagc.

Whenever the wind was favorable, the Eu-

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, hwuhich is only

 

three days‘ easy sailing, and as he e

found that the duke's acht had gone. F0 wing
out his instructions, he nded and crossed the islan
to N ikosia, on the northern shore, where he expect-
ed to find “Al Djemmel"('l‘he 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 -
deck and singile mast, whose skipper, heari of his
dilemma, tol him the Djemme ad sailed or Ath-
ens, and offered to take him there. .

Be 'nning to feel an as well as puzzled at the
way which he was both treated, he sees the
ofifer, 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 aperonare (for such is the name of that
sort of craft) pr0ved a much faster sailer than the
Eutphros no and soon took him past Smyrna, Aleppo
an fill t e otger townls on the co§st of Asia tilfiinor,
touc ing at rete an pass ng e at, one
fine day the skipper pointed out a dgurr? ine of purple
hills toward the sunset and said to Hart with a
sm e:

“ Na in Athena, ken-is " (There is Athenslgrt.

And Clarence looked out with a stra e ' of
his heart, as he for the first ime a m-
ter of white dots on he 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 he scanned the see. all round, and noticed
that there was (ante a crowd of sails in ' ht, all
pressing toward e north, and realised that was
.' 11 one of the great avenues of Eastern trade.

There were state! square-rigged English mer-
chantmen going to tamboul, breach luggers and
chussemarées, Spanish, Italian and Greek feluccas
and speronares, all under a cloud of sail. all beautt
ful and picturesque.

Crossing their bows and standing toward the
coast of t e Morea, was a large felucca with three
in ts, brown sails and a general dirty appearance.

art asked the Greek captain what was this
felucca, for he was beginning to understand Bomaic
pretty well by this time, and received for answer:

“ Only a sponge-fisher, keerie. They‘re always
dirty and most of them are full of thieves.“

Hart took little more notice of the dirty n -
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 voi in accents of one imploring help.

“ Clarence .’ are/lee! Help I".

For a moment he thought he must be d .

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 sponge-felucca, and on her decks
he could see only a few picturesque nimans in Greek
cestume, with long knives in their sashes.

They were busied' in the ordinary tasks of-hlediter-
ranean sailors coming‘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
thpre was no mistake.

: Clarence! (Janna Hart ! Fbr God‘s sake, help
us . 9‘

He stared at the felucca, which was about fifty
feet to leeward, and felt sure the voice came from
thence.

But where was Helen? ‘

He went to the side and peered anxiously at the
felucca, when Helen's voice cried:

“We are here in the cabin. We are pris—“

The voice abruptly stopped, and Hart soon saw the
reason why.

One of the picturesque and rufflanly Greeks on deck
had heard her, and now rushed below, baring his
long knife.

Clitlrence shouted out in Romaic to the felucca‘s
peo e:

“?Vhom have you in the cabin?“

The men looked at the speronare in surprise and
seemed to notice for the first time that the little
trader had one of the “Western lords“ on board.
Hart‘s pug aree hat informed them.

They he a short confused consultation together
in low tones, and then one of them called out:

“Mind your own aflairs. Keep out of our way, if
you want a whole skin."

In a moment Hart’s blood was 11 . He had seen
so much of the bullying ways of uropeans in the
East that he felt he must do a little bluster on his
own account.

Therefore he mustered all the Romaic he knew,
and called out, in a commanding tone:

“Give up that lady at once, or I’ll have yourves-
sel sunk."

The spokesman of the Greeks gave a coarse laugh,
made a gesture of contem t, an retorted:

" if you don‘t sheer off ’11 kill you, old dog-face."

Hart could hardly help] a smile at the sail-t3:
“.l‘inopees “ (dog-face) as e heard it. This
"winner was abusing him in the same words which
Homer puts into the mouth of Achilles, when he
bet-ates Agamemnon in the Iliad.

To enforce his own reply he turned the belt he
were under his loose sack-coat and brought his two
revolvers, u pnesent from the duke. to the front.

I

 “ If vou don’theave-to at once, I‘ll make a hole in
l

l

 

you, ' ’ he answered.

The next moment every Greek on the felucca had
{nit apistol of some sort, and was blazing away at
nm.

But inasmuch as they were all large, old-fashioned
flint-lock concerns, most of them missed fire; and
all that went of! missed him ; for it is by no means
easy to hit a man in a chopping see, when both
marksmen and mark are bobbing up and dam be-
fore a brisk gale.

Naturally Hmt was not the man to stand this
sort ofihiugquieilg, and out rune his two revol-
l vers in all lht‘ll‘ glory of ivory butts :.ud white plat.

i .
n€Vatching his chance, he sent three or (our shot.

 

 

 

 

The Duke of Diamonds.

 

 

whistling into the felucca, and had the satisfaction ' Then Diamantina suddenly sobered down; the

of seeing one of his assailants drop, with aball in '
his leg. 1 manner as he said:
But before he could do more, the captain and =
01]] him all] .
round, begging him not to endanger t eir ives an( 3
libert e 5

crew of the speronarc were hangin

y. nge—flshers would have a rung
against the vessel, and would pay it ofl' aftert e kee-

rie had gone away.
Clarence felt so an with the ruffians of the

felucca that for a time c felt as if he would like to ‘
board her, sin le-handed, and run a muck through I
esaw that their firearms were not .
to be relied on, while his own pistols would puta ‘

all her crew.

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
knowing how to make the timid crew of the spero-
nare follow him, the sound of a light si rial gun in
the offing attracted his attention and ookin out
past the sponge-boat he saw the white sails 0 Dia-
mantina‘s beautiful felucca acht, trimmed flat,

stretchi out of a crowd 0 other vessels, about
half a m to leeward, and running off to the south-
east

Instantly his mind was made up.

“You see that felucca. Put me on board of her
and I’ll give you two liras in gold (38) at once," he
said to the timid Greek ca tain, who delightedl
obeyed, glad to get out of e scra at any cos .
The spcronare shifted her helm an ran down to-
ward the yhcht- before the wind, while Hart shook
his pistol menacingly back at the felucca, where the
Greek vagabonds were hastily trying to reload and
prime their weapons.

In twenty minutes thereafter the American was
saluting the Duke of Diamantina on his own quarter-
deck, and hurriedly telling him Helen‘s position, iin-
ploring him to rescue her.

 

CHAPTER XXXIII.
ran gunman.

Tun Duke of Diamantina listened to the Ameri-
can’s impassioned account of what he had seen and
heard With the calm and smiling dignity which never
left him. The yacht continued to run on to the
south-east, and sails were crossing and recrossing
the track all the time, so that it would soon be very
difficult to identify any vessel in the crowd, unless
of very remarkab e apgearance.

When Clarence had nished, the duke asked:

“ My dear sir what do you wish me to do?"

“ To rescue er once more, as ou did before.
Think how easy it will be. There s the pirate or
whatever she is, a slow sailer, and here are you in a
clipper. Let us put about and go after those villains.
thfiukf, ca?“ you hesitaetgié'h th th th

‘ y ear ” answer 6 0 er, wi e same
bland smile, “ i would 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, impatient] .

“ My dear sir, there are no pirates le t in these seas
Fowmplied his companion with the same irritat-
i ‘ .

‘But I tell your grace I heard the lady call to me
for help and tell me she was a prisoner in the cabin
of that felncca," cried Hart, getting more and more
iin tient.

iamantina looked 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."

te disheartened, Clarence turned away. He
h . 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 futting the yacht about?

‘ 11 car sir, I am going to the island of Negro-

nt meet Dom Gil, about whom on were asking

Alexandria. Do you wish to see in 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
sporonare had not gone I would go back in her to
Athena.) As it is, Ellie first landlwe touch, I ask your
grace setmeas oreupon. resgnmypost.’

Diamantina looked at him with steady, glowing
eyes for several seconds ere he answered.

I “ ifltir, if I take you at your word, you will be sorry
or .‘

“ Never,” retorted Clarence, hotly. “ I know who ,

ou are, and our cause for enmity against the Law-
ns' but I d d not think it would extend to a help-
less y, who was not born at the time that—”
thThlgggke interrupted him with a slight wave of
e

“ Monsieur Hart, it b enough,” he said. “ I ac-
cept your resignation as a secretary. Do not force
me to be rude to my guest. If you will descend into
the cabin you will fliid madame my mother there,
who will endeavor to entertain you  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 $ace was ready to save her on the coast of
Arabia. by not now i’ he asked, desfiflringly.

Then Diamantina stepped toward m, h s face
transformed.

His black eyes glowed like burning coals, his white
teeth shone as his lips parted under the jetty mus-
tache, and his voice sunk to a low, angry whisper of
intense passion.

“ Because I ch00”, air. Is that an answer to you?
Who are that dare to question me .9" -

Then ence laughed and met his eyes with a

- look as fierce as his own.

“ Who am I? An American. In m 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 lady a cowardly villain."

For a moment Hart fancied the duke was about to
spring on him. All the hot blood of his Aryan an-
cestors lowed in his face; his lips parted in ascrt

rgh snarl, and his eyes glared wildly.
voluntarily the American started toward him. as
I to meet him with a bionic: the fighting instinct
was named in both men.

9|

; into the cabin, leaving the American alone on deck.

 

frown left his face, and he resumed his usual icy

“Sir, I left the lady with her father. 1 decline to
inteifere with her, now that she. is in his control.
You will not go into the cabin? Good-day."

And the duke with a slight and hang ity inelina- |
tion of his lieu , passed Hart and went down-stairs

Then, for the first time, Clarence began to feel a
rent deal of shame and embarrassment at his posi-
ion. He was not a iich man, and had exhausted

most of his savings, since leaving the navy, in hunt-
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
was a gensioner on the duke‘s bounty while it re-
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
matter where bound. Hotlieaded and in love, his
resolution was quickly put in practice.

The (yacht was continually passing vessels, and he
notice a large felucca, which he 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,
and the sailor, a slim, swarthy Lascar, obeyed,
without a word showing either surprise or renion-
strance.

No sooner were the within fair hailing distance
than he called out in talian:

“ Will you take me into Athens for a lira Turcoi”
(about 84).

“Si, signer, oi .' " was the eager answer, and the
felucca came up close alongside, grazing the yacht g
as she passed when Clarence with the expertness of ‘
an old man-o -war’s-man, leaped into her main rig-
ging and found himself on board the Maltese.

As he turned to look back, there was Diamantina,
with the princess Mela tros, standing in the cabin‘
hatch, both looking a him wistfully. _All the cold-
ness and an or scemed to have vanished from the
face of the uke, while the princess was actually in

 

rs.

Feeling guilty, wh or how he did not exact] un-
derstand, Clarence orbore to do what he had 11
just on the point of doing—throwing the duke’s
money back on board the yacht. it seemed to him
at that moment too much like a. causeless insult to
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 his last fare-

 

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 arted, the yacht speeding on one
tack, while the altese went on the other; and
Hart found himself once more alone in the world
hunting after a dirty “sponge-boat among ahundred
other craft exactly ' e, to find, if he could, the ;
lat}?v of his love. . ,

e turned away to inspect the craft on which he i
had so unceremoniousl intruded, and found her to
be a large Maltese fe ucca in ballast, going to
Athens for a cargo of olive oi and currants.

The skip r was a common 3 eeimen of the' 0-
rant but 8 rewd sailor of the editerranean wi h a
little smattering of education, enough to enable him
to read a bill of ladin , and a large experience of
every coast on the nort erii shores of the sea, from
Barcelona to Stain boul.

The vessel was a smart sailer, and the houses of
Athens were in sight from her decks within an hour
after he left Diamantina’s yacht, so that before sun- i
set our hero was treading the quay at the Pincus,
and looking up to the Acropolis, casti over in his
mind all sorts of schemes for recovering elen Law-
ton from her captors.

 

CHAPTER XXXIV.
0N sonar) run muccn.

Ir is time that we returned to the Lawtons and
O’Shea, whom we left aboard that piratical-looking
sponge-felucca, and find out how it was that Helen
managed to call out to Hart, and where they were

all on .

e fact was that, the next day after leaving i
Crete, the English arty had been taken down to a ,
cabin with a decid flavor of stale sardines about i
it, where the ladies had been locked in while Sir I
Lumley and O‘Shea were taken forward and put 1
down in the hold among the s n ‘

Whht became of them neither Helen nor Lorelia 
knew after they'were taken awa , and their only ‘

occupation left was to look out o the little round
windows in the stern of the felucca over the spark-
ling sea, and long for some English ship to come
within hailing distance.

Who were their 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

attempt was made to rob them of any of their valua- ,

bles.

Nevertheless 'they were kept in strict captivity,
and it was with a feeling of sitive .rapture that
Helen Lawton, lookin out o the Window in the
afternoon of the secon day, saw thelittle s eronare

under their stern, and recognized on er deck
he well-known fl re of Clarence Hart, in his white
Egyptian suit an puggaree hat.

It was with the first rapturous instinct of hope that
she screamed out, “ Clarencei Clarence! help!”

She saw him start and look earnestly at the feluc-
ca, and felt aunt Lorelia crowding up eagerly beSide
her as she repeated the cry:

“Clarence, Mr. Hart, we are here in the cabin.
Help us 2"

But it was not to be, that time.

She heard a bustle on deck, and then one of the :
pirates came rushing down the hatch into the cabin, i

swearing away in Greek at a tremendous rate, flour-
ishing a knife, and making himself so offensive that
there was no sort of misconception of his meaning
in any language.

He caught poor Lorelia by the hair at the back of
her head, ave it a jerk intendin to pull her back'
and insteugi of that, pulled the w ole of it off, and
flung it into the corner of the cabin.

Poor Miss Lawton, appalled at the loss of her new
switch, fell on her knees with a wild scream, when

 

 7 ~  ~- sen-m

this picturesque but unmannerly ruflian m
Helen, brandished his knife close to her face org
told her, as plain as signs could say, that if she we
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
litéle battle was going on up there, on account of the

a ies.

It was soon over, and the next intimation they had
of what had occurred was when a man came lim in
down the cabin stairs, dropping blood as he walfietfi
and growling out all the curses in the Greek vo--
cabulary 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 occupanc ; but new here were four or five pic-
turesque ans binding up their comrade’s ,
before the scam] ' ed Lorelia, and cursing away in
Greek all the time.

It seemed as if a change was coming over their

captors.

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 nereasing gloom of the cabin
warned them that night was comin on.

They could hear through the win ows a 00d deal
of creaking and splashing that told of passgig ships
while hails in Greek and Italian were f neat, but
they did not attempt anything more on heir own
account in the way of calling for help. If one of
them made anyth like a motion to go near a stern
window the woun ed pizza growled at them so
fiercely that they were g to retire, and so matters
went on till it was pitch dark, the two women cling—
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 o
r0fies and blocks made by lowering sail and the
su en splash of the anchor as it drop into the
water.

Then one of the Greek sailors looked down the
hatch and called out what sounded like:

“ Jldumy q/oce."

Helen was as h[ignorant of Greek as most youn
ladies, but she a kind of notion that this mean ,
"Come u , you two!" and she was right; for the
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 tothe side,.
where a boat was waiting for them.

Helen looked timidly up and around her, and saw
that they were in a small sheltered cove, surrounded-
with abrupt black preei ices that shut out all view,
and made her feel as if he were in the bottom of a

1 well. On these rocks, on t 8 side toward which sh.

was gazin ,she saw agroup of men in Greek cos-
tume, wit bright fiarin torches, the light 811' I
on their long guns and t e knives and pistols wi
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 nowheretobe 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 stems
sheets, where he compelled her to sit with her aunt.

Not a word was spoken as the rowed to shore,
till one of the Greeks clapped Sir umley familiarly
on the shoulder, and cried:

“Ikkany. iklcanyl“ (Come, come.)

Then the baronet started out of his stupor of do.
gum and submitted to be led ashore, where he
t seemed to notice that Helen was with them.

“ My child i" he muttered with a pitiable attempt.
at a smile; “ this is a sad meeti .“

Then one of his ards pulled im raililghly away,
and he was hustl off by a crowd of fe ows worse
looking than the iratical nge-flshers. About the
latter there mifi t be a oubt' but there was no
question as tot ese fellows. e were thorough
bred bandits, and Helen that her whole
family was in their power.

Trembling and in silence, the two women followed
their captors up a steep rock?V path, which wound
in and out among the rocks ti 1 hey had lost ht
of the haven into which they had come, w on
they halted in a little valle , nestled between two
s urs of the hills, and foun there three ponies, two
0? which were saddled for ladies.

Obeying signs rather than words, the two Misses
Lawton mounted these animals, which at once set
off at a brisk trot, and prevented them seeing what
became of Sir Lumley, who was left behind.

Beside each pony ran a pair of tall mountaineen,
keepin pace With the animal with up at ease,
and be iind them theyiheard a good dufgleshouti
and laugxl'iing, which elen did not dare to interprc
to herse .

She had heard horrible stories ‘of the cruelties of
the Greek brigands to their captives, and feared
that they were treating her father with ind ity,
but did not dare to look back to see if her sus cions
were well founded. She knew she could not help
him, and hoped she was mistaken.

Thus they rushed on through the n ht, always &'

the same pace the horses in a sharp rot, the men
rilinning on as if weariness were a thing unknown to
t em. '

How long they went on in this way Helen could
not tell, tired and jolted mixes as she was, sore
and miserable; but the . streaks of dawn were
blushin in the eastern sky when they came to a
halt at st, in the midst of a wild confusion of rocks
and mountains, and her conductors began to make
peculiar calls into the darkness round them, iniita-
tin the cries of oats.

tt soon t e whole party was clustered to-
gether n the midst of the valle , and Helen looked
round herfor her father. Alls 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 her

ror at the idea that he was dead. she jumped cc ha
frantically; -

horse. ran to the other. and cried

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The Duke of Diamonds.

23

 

alive.”

“0an just," muttered Sir Lumiey, in a hoarse
whisper; “the wretches—have nearly—killed me—
Nelly."

"Father, father, speak to me! Say you are I

The brigands made no attemptto se arate them '

now. On the contrary, they seemed to trying to

make up for their harshness on the road, for they 3

took Sir Lumiey ofl’ his horse, cutting the ropes
with which he was tied, and laid him gently on the
rass One of them even handed Helen a small
ask of snack, with signs to give some to her father,
who seemed completel exhausted.

Poor Sir Lumiey swa lowed a 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 apitia le plight.

“ The tied me to 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, sh'ndderin and crying:

“0h, Lumiey, 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 Lumiey could only groan for answer as he
looked at the grim faces of the brigands.

CHAPTER XXXV.
rm: BRIGANDS.

Wmu: they were discussing their (position and
gro the dawn was advancing, an they could
see the aees'and costume of thel; captors. 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 warm . the heart of a French artist et 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 beard am curls that swe t
his shoulders, all of the most dazzling white. 1‘ e
was mounted on one of the little hill ponies, and his
dress fairly blazed with gold as he came to meet
them, when all the band raised a shout of :

“All Ai.’ Keerte.’ At ! "

“Who is that?" asked Helen of one of her cap-
tors, indicating the advancing old man. The bandit
threw back his black curls with a proud toss as he
answered:

“ Na to Kwie Soknihtié, guinie." (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. Socrates soon set all her doubts at rest by
coming up and saying in English:

“ I am charm, much charm to see Sare Lomlee.
I ’ave expeck eem for somea time-a."

Sir Lumiey looked wearily up.

" me! What do you mean?“

“I mean that we 'ave hear of do so beauteeful
vatch you ’ave wid de ladies. I read de papers,
ears, and vs get de Bord du Nil. Charm to see you.
We shall enjoy de mountains ver’ moch, dis time."

Sir Lumiey 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 respect of torturing him.

“ e are in your power and must pay for it," an-
swered the baronet, sullenly. “How much do you
want for our lives and liberties?“

“ How moch?" said Mr. Socra
tone. “ Let me see. You are nglish miiordo.
You ’ave do reat estate in England:

“ No such t ing," interrupted Sir Lumiey, hastily.
" I‘m a poor man. I‘ve only got my savings”

“Yes, sare, I know. Dey are feeftee t‘ousand

eenee Ingles in de fou’ (you call 'im fond?) and

e vatch and bracelets and necklace of de late
Rfiah of krlshnapoor. Is dat not true?“

r. Socrates laughed in a silvery manner as he
consulted a little book from which he read out these
items, and watched Sir Luniley’s face.

“ Your bankair in Athens is M. de Rosenbaum,
sare, and ’e is de agent for Barings, of London, who
hold de trust of our fond. Is it not true, sare?"

Sir Lumiey fe t the sweat roll down his face as he
stammered:

“How do you know my affairs?“ .

“ Dal. is beezee-ness, sure. I would be poor man if
I did not keep de record of de travellair. My men
’ave watch you since you sail in de Aphrodite, and
de captain e be great friend of mine. Ve call eem
Keerie Glypteros.”

Sir Lumiey tried to smile.

“That is no news. We felt sure he wasa traitor
when the Aphrodite left us. Come, how much do

on want for us?"

“ Feeftee t’ousand gueenee Ingles, and de jewel,”
Was the bland response of Mr. Socrates.

Sir anley s gered up from the round and
faced the cluef in ndignation that banis ed his fears
is he cried:

“ You shall never have it. I‘ll die first.“

Mr. Socrates rubbed his hands together as if he
was very well pleased at the retort.

“ Dat is ver good, sure. You can die at once
whenever you weesh. My son Alkipii’liidt", will keel
you wid do great pleasure. e Will take our time
about eet.”

He ke to one of the good docking scam shy his
Iide, w o in a moment had tripped up Sir umley,
when he was seized by four others and held as in a
vise while Mr. Socrates went on:

“ We aiwa s kill dc obstinate people by inches,
Bare. Alkibizhde viii begin by knock out your teeth.
one at a time, wid de butt of his pistol. Den ve vill
out 08 your flngares, one by one. Ve vill give you
an hour between each loss, to give you a leetle
chance to change our mind. Now, sare, ve viii be-
gin. Awhilihdé, 1 ie toxemia."
But Sir Lumle ad heard enough, and knew the
m of the intwords well one h. (“MCIbIflr
land-mm") not totry save himself.

in a meditative

Struggling fiercely he shouted out, as well as he
coul :

“ Wait a minute. I‘ll pay." _
Mr. Socrates waved his hand, and 511‘ Lumiey was

set on his feet, while the brigands who had been '
holding back Helen and Lorelia from any sort of m- ‘

terference releasrd them.

The women at once rushed to Sir Lumiey and ‘
clung around him, imploring him to save his life, to ‘

consent to anything rather than be tortured to
death, and the baronet visibly trembled. There was

‘ something so appalling in the method of death

 

 

romised by the smiling brigand, and his exemplary

amil were so obviously e erto begin operations,
that ir Lumiey was demox 'zed. He tried to make
a bargain.

“ Come,-Keerie Sokrahtie," 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 bag ar. I’ll give you a
check for a thousand unds. out that do?"

Keerie Sokrahtié 00k his head with the same
bland smile. .

“Oh, no, sir. Imust ’ave an order on Monareur
Rosenbaum for all de stock in do fou’, (funds)
gander to my name, through Meestare Baring, m

ndon."

“But, what use would that be to you?" asked Sir
Lumiey, in des ration. f‘ 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 self.”

“But, if I do any such thing I shall be is t a beg-
gar " urged Sir Lumiey.

T e old brigand shrugged his shoulders with the
same bland smile.

“You are not seexty yet, ears, and you 'ave de
ceeveel serveece. I ’ave to live as I can, sare."
" I‘ll tell on what I’ll do," said Sir Lumle
denly. “ I‘ ldivide with you. Will that do,

Sokrahtie?”

The old Greek pulled out a snuff-box.

“ N o, sare, it will not do," he said, as he openq
“ I want “ (here he took a pinch) “ feeftee ‘

sud-

it.
)

his“
“ Llousand pound,” (sniff) “and de jewel ” (s ) “ of ,
you do not decide ‘

de late Rajah of Krishnapoor. If .
in t’ree minute, I tell Alklbiahde to begeen again.”

eerie .
e Mercy!

 

Then he put up his snuff-box, turned his pony’s .
head and walked the animal away several paces to :

where the men had ust kindled a rousing fire. The ,
shuddering groquo . prisoners saw that they were ‘
mv

heating some oh es red-hot in the fire.

Then Sir Lumiey, with a great effort, said to his
sister:

“ Lorelia, we must give up your watch. Have you
the bracelets and necklace With you, there?"

Pale and trembling, Lorelia hastily took off that

fatal watch, with asplendid necklace and bracelets 
of emerald, which she habitually wore under her .
dress, and held them out as Keene Sokrahtie rode ‘

back to them.
b0 w.

The old brigand took them with a I

“Now sare," he said to Sir Lumiey, “we are '

ready. ill you sign; the order, or shall we cut you -
into eetel pieces? e are ready now.”
CHAPTER XXXVI.
RETRIBUTION.
As Keerie Sokrdhtio lipoke his smile became pars
ticularl wicked and ull of triumphant meaning,
so that

elen hid her face on her father‘s breast,
while Lorelia shrieked and shuddered. '
Sir Lumiey turned very pale and answered, hasti-

l :
y“ I consent. I’ll sign anything you like. Then you
will let me go, I suppose?’

“When we ’ave make secure de ’ole beezeness,
sure,” was the cautious reply.

Then Mr. Socrates turned to his men and called
gut something in Greek, as he dismounted from his

orse.

The handsome Alkibiéhdé advanced to his father’s
side, took the horse and dashed of! among the '
like a rough rider, while Mr. Socrates, now
all me] uous courtesy, went through the formality
of introducing Sir Inmg‘? 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, prOudi . “Aristiou, Stefano, Tokion, Aristo-
telie, Perik i6, Demetri, Teseo, Sofoklé, and Alki-
biahde, who is gone. Dese are my cousins, twenty-

 

three of dem, and dere is our leetel familee. You
like dem, sure?"

Sir Lumiey gloomily assented, for he could say no
less; and Mr. Socrates proceeded to give another
long string of modernized classical names, as he
proudly paraded his interesting family of cut-
throats.

“I ’ave rule de mountain since I was a ho , sare.
De Turk and de Greek do all fear me, and laugh
at de lice. Now we wi ‘ave de dinner, sale."

An the little group of captives soon found them-
selves sitting down with a band of b ds, who
treated them with the most distinguishet courtesy,
till the return of Mr. Alkibiahde, who came racing
back with another Greek person of clerical aspect,
who wore s ctacles and had no weapon save an
inkhom an sachel of papers.

This personage was introduced as “Our cousin, .
Mr. Sofokie'” and Mr. Sophocles soon showed him- 3
self an adn rable English scholar and an adept in 1
business; for he produced an order on English I‘
stamped blanks, ready filled in, for Sir Lumiey to I
sign, transferring his stock in the three per cent.
consols to “ Sofokle, Sokrfthtie and Company, of 98 i
Strand, London, merchants, for value received.“

Sir Lumiey signed the order, after another un-
availin struggle for terms, which was terminated
hy'the hreat of beginning operations with red-hot
knives, and then watched with a ruefui face the de-
parture of Mr. Sophocles, who galloped away, as the
old chief informed him, to Athens, to see to the I
“ beezeness. ’ ‘

“And now, sure,“ observed Keerie Sokrahtié,
“ we ’ave settle our leetle affalre. You viii stay ’ere
till de return of Keerie Sofoklé wid de monie, and
den you s‘all o to Athens. In de meantime I ‘ave l
odair leetle t‘ ng to settle. You viii write out a full
confession of de truth in de death of de Rajah of
Krishna r, to use in do suit for de restoration of his
son Ka dasa." And he rubbedhis han .

Sir Lumiey sprung to his feet in excemive aston-

 

‘a._—_ 1

“ What do you mean?" he almost screamed. “Am
I not free yet f"

“From Kecrie Sokrtihtie, yes, sare; but not from
the Duke of Diamantina."

Helen and aunt Lorelia rose in great dimnay and
alarm, and the elder lady cried out:

“Good heavens, Lumiey, 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 covered her face
with her hands,‘ejaculating:

“And you knew who he was all the time. Would
to Heaven We had all died before this came to us."

" But what does he mean?“ persisted Lorelia,
fretfully. “Who is the duke, Lumiey? Can’t you
answer?"

It was Keerie Sokrahtié who answered for him,
for Sir Lumiey seemed to be inca hie of speech.

“ I will call a (gentleman who w' tell you, madame.
’Ere is Keerie 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 stra r dismounted close to the fire and
cameu to ir Lumiey.

“Rec on you’ve forgotten me “ he said. “My
name‘s Carver. The ople of napoorcalled

me Gilkarvah when commanded his highness‘s

body-guard. I had a beard in those days, and it was
ofl when we met in Egypt at the club. Do you re-
member me yet, Sir Lumiey Lawton?"

Sir Lumiey was ghastly pale and seemed to be
choking, but he managed to whisper:

“In mercy—not before them—”

The Yankee adventurer smiled bitterly.

“Not before them .’ Your sister and daughter.
who have believed you to be an honorable man all
these ears, when we have known you to be a traitor
that it his benefacer No; not before themt

Did you show mercy to the noblest gentle—
man in India, when you ordered him blown from a
British cannon and stole his jewels from the dead
body, which rotted awa ' unburied in his own mar-
ket-place? No, no, Lum ey Lawton. Twenty years
is long to wait, but our time for justice has come at
last. Give us a full confession and restore myboy
viii his father's throne, or you never leave this place
a ve."

“ I will do it,” muttered Lawton, with drty lips.

t_ Carver laughed a short, fierce laugh 0 satisfac-
ion.

“ That‘s better. We know each other now. Here
is the account which I have made of the affair. It
tells how you made ropOSals to the Ranee, and
how, in revenge for‘ er rejection you committed
perjury against the Rajah. It tells how you oom—
yx‘lled Sergeant O’Shea, of the artillery, to give up
the watch, presented him by the Rajah, and con~
ferred it on your sister, telling her on had bought
it for her. It recites your knowledge of the inno-
cence of Rajah Kalidasa, and pra s t e Em
India to do justice and restore t eyoung jah to
his roper lace. There it is. Will you sign it ?"

e han ed Sir Lumiey a large hment en-
grossed in the form of a petition 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 unha p baronet read it over, the sweat roll-
inglfdown h ace,twhile Helen aginin his sister stood.
as yzed, wa ching him' in ' enbe.

At t 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?”
edSir Lumiey buried face in his handsand groan-

She 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-
 is better than living a lie all our lives. Is it

me H

“ God help me, it is, Belem“ he groaned “and
Diamantina is his son. I knew him and Efile the
moment I saw them.“

“.Then sign the petition," was her quiet reply. “ It
you did them wrong twenty years Anglo do them right
now. I, for one, am ready to bear t e result."

Carver had been staring at her in a si lar man-
m r all this time without saying a wo . Now he
thckoned to Keerie Sokrt‘ihtie and the brigands re-
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 queruious tones
of Lorelia reproaching them both, but they did not
attem t to go near them, and so for a good half-
hour t e gir pleaded with the man for justice while
the bandits looked curiously on.

At last Sir Lumiey was heard to call out:

“Give me the paper, in Heaven’s name. You
wish my public disgrace? Then on your head be the
consequences.”

Then he came toward them, his face set and
desperate, and cried out in tones that showed his
fears were all gone:
d_':GiV(‘ me pen and ink. I’ll sign it on one cow

ition." ‘.

“ And what is that?" asked Carver.

“ That you lend me a pistol and fight me, you!
you who have brought all this on me,” was the
almost frenzied reply.

“ You shall have it," answered Carver, promptly;
“but sign first.“

He took outagold n and pencil case from his

ket with a slow do iberation- then brought out a
lttle screw flask of ink which e opened and held

' ready for Sir Lumiey while one of the brigands offer-

ed the flat stock of his gun for a hasty writing-desk.

With face of ashy pallor but a firm hand the baronet
subscribed the meord of his own infamy and then
threw down the pen with a doe curse.

The impe'turbablc Carver mly picked it up and
wrote his own name as witness, after which be dried
the aper at the tire, folded it up put it in hisme

et, secured and pen with the can;

his ink-bottle
quiet deliberation; then turned to Sir
observed:

e3 0 “n

 

 

 

24

r-‘

' {Fans "

The Duke of Diamonds.

«1:..~A.»:/-z,j."r,r.s of!“ A »

  
  
  

 

“ New, cunnei, I‘m read foryou."

“ Then give me the pis l," snarled Sir Lumley,
savagsily.

"I d you should have it and so you shall," was
the quiet reply, “ but 011 ain‘t oing to shoot any
one of this crowd. . ow look ere. I‘m oin‘ to

ive this pistol to Alkibiahde here. He shal 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~ mley nodded as if satisfied.

“ D10 as you please,“ he said. “ I only want the
piste ." -

Then Alkibiéhdé set off at a gallop down the valle
and the baronet turned to his daughter and shoe
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 begginElslgim to forgive her, and he
fielentfidso farasto ' her coldly on the brow as

6 sm :

“ Good—by. If these gentlemen choose to stop me
tiligly can do it. I‘m goin to Athens on foot to com-
p n to the British consu ."

Carver sneered as he went ofl.

“ All the British consul can do can‘t hurt us," he
called out after Sir Lumley. “ Walk ofi' 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 be well know the
futility of any suc attempts. At a sign from him
two of the mountaineers rose and went after Sir
Lumle 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 Immley had blown out his brains, unable to
hear his impending disgrace and poverty.

CHAPTER XXXVII.
(INCL: AND Nspnaw.

Cums: HART, weary and disheartened, satflin
the ublic room of the Hotel do Pericles, in Athens,
writ ng a letter home to his mother. He had utterly
failed to find Helen Lawton and had been unable
oven to meet with the supposed :‘ponge-boat in
which he had seen her, the h he h visited every
feiucca in the harbor of t e Pincus, and sharply
scanned eve Greek sailor he had met.

He had bee 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 0 American consul, ‘and they’ll have to pa
a oodround sum for their deliverance, that’s a1.

e can't interfere unless you show us where they 1
are. Funny thing about those sponge-fishers, though. '
Didn‘t believe 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 w th a weary heart
to write home to his mother all about his adventures ‘
and misfortunesband especially of the disappear-
ance of Dom Gil rabador, whom he fancied to be
his uncle Gilbert Carver. ’

While he was still writing away he heard some .
one co h near him, and looked up, for the cengh ‘
seemed e333? to ain his attention.

There, pr an formal as ever, in his glossy
black, sat Mr. Glypteros, the Yankee-Greek partner
of Pa oulos, Demetri and company, a grim smile

man i on his ellow visage.

“Wag, Mr. art," exclaimed this erson, with-
out the htest ceremon , “if you a at the con-
sarnedest, edest pig- eaded son of a sea cook I
ever knew, bu’st me nto fiddle~strhrgs."

For a moment Clarence was too much amazed to
answer. and then he jumped up, demanding furious-

’1‘ What do you mean, sir?" Who are you talking
,"

“To the darndest pig-headed fool in all Athens,"
was the composed answer. “ A teller that ain‘t got ,
no more brains than a weml, and ought to be kick- -
ed all the way from the Acropolis to the Pincus. 5
What do you sa to that, sonny?“

Clarence H could hardly believe his e es and ,
cars. This man was actualyjeerlng at m in a I
public room, and he looked round him to see if any i

one was within hearing. There were only two wait-
ers, but they were grinning and his temper rose to ,
fever heat. 1

He turned furiously round on Mr. Glypteros, and *
lot that gentleman had snatched up his letter to his a
mother and was coolly  it!

In an instant Hart rushed 9. him, clutched at the 
letter, and amoment later was locked in the long A
nervous arms of Mr. Glypieros, who handled him ‘
with the strength of a steam-en ne, lifted him as if ,
he had been a child, and finally creed him down in-
to a chair, tripping his feet from under him, remark-
i d l :

N13: gen don't, sonn ! Your uncle‘s ot hold of
on, an I want you to ow it. The 01 man ain’t
ost hisgripe yet. No, sir-rec. bob!”

There was something so peculiar in the way in .
which this was said with its. uaint old-fashioned
Americanisms, that Clarence fe. t all his fur givin
way to irresisti laughter, and then an itea sur -
denly carne into his head as he stared at Mr. Glyp-

teros.
“Wh , is it possible you are Gilbert Carver after
all? “Kurt an idiot I‘ve been."
His uncle (for it was of course none other) gave a ,
dry sniff, and made no answer save to smooth out '
the crumpled letter and read it aloud with com-

manta. i
“ ‘I cannot help thinking I’ve found r uncle '
Gilbert at last in the person of Dom G —‘ Waal, 
sonny if you’d not been as blind as a bat, you'd have .
seen that the first da we met. ‘But alas, I fear I i
have lost him—‘ I s ould think so."
Then he turned on Clarence with a face of affected

fierceness.

“ What made {(011 insult the Duke of Diamantinn!
Hadn’t he been ind enough to you?“

“He had " replied the other, with a blush of em-
barrassment. “but he refused to let me save Miss

rel

" I was right. ‘

lHelen Lawton from the pirates, and now she’s
est "

“Oh, that‘s it, is it? Waal, sup so I show you
the lady here in Athens under the uke's protection,
what would you say to that .9"

“But is it true, srr?"

“ Was], 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 arences‘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, on have spoken the truth. She is
one of the nob est women that ever breathed God's
air, and if you ever get her you will be a lucky

an.
“Ah sir, there‘s not much chance of that,” said ,

r art, sadly. If she is safe as on say, with

iamnntina, he rs the man she will ma e happy not
me. What chance has a r man like me got to
win the child of an Englis barondi Don‘t talk of
it, sir. The duke does what he likes withqany wo-
man."
Carver uttered a low chuckle.

“And do you think Diamantina would marry
Helen Lawton, if she'd have him?"

“ Why not, sir? She is not beneath him."

“That‘s nothing to do with it. Do you sutfipose
he'd marry a girl whose father murdered his fa er?”

“ Why, sir what—"

“‘yYou don t mean to say you don't know who he

“ No, sir. I have of course suspected.”

“Then ask yourself what possible circumstances
could make a match between those two. Your love
has blinded you, can man. When the duke
warned you away rom er he did it to keep you
from sufferln in the retribution that was et to
come on the wtons. Now it has come. ustice
has been done. Sir Lumley Lawton is dead."

“Dead, sir "

“Dead by his own hand; afraid to face the dis-
grace 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 years _0 that girl‘s father
dragged a noble man to foul sgrace and death. It
has been my aim in life to restore the Rajah’s son to
his father‘s throne. I brou ht him up ave him his
education in the wide word, hel ed
carry off the hidden treasures O Rajah Kalidasa
and increased them tenfold by wise trading. You
understand now how Papadou 0s, Demetri and Co.
are only another name for Diamantina‘s millions. I
have amassed those millions for him and he has not
begin prrgrateful. Do you know why we heaped
no es ”

“ Hardly, sir. I su "
“It was to seat 1&fidasa on his father‘s throne

and that can only be done by the public exposure of
Lawton's crime. '

“Well, sir, how does that—"

“ Concern you? Thus. If you marry Helen Law-

ton you marry into a family whose shame will soon i

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
willy been trying you all this me. Come with mel"

all of wonder Clarence followed his newl -found
uncle from the hotel to one of the han somest
houses in Athens.

"Here," said the elder, “is Diamantina‘s house.
Helen is there. I expect you to a ologize to the
duke for leaving him so rudely the ot er day."

Clarence flushed up.

“ I’ll do it sir," he answered, “ though I still think

 

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CONCLUSION.

Bur, Clarence was never destined to make a formal
apology to the Duke of Diarnantina. As he entered
the house and went into one of the grand saloons
with Carver, he was met by the irincees who came
running out to greet him as if s re had known him
from his boyhood, and embraced him—to his in-
tense confusion—and called out to her son:

“Kah'dasa, Kalidasa, here is our young rrodigal
returned! Ah, Monsieur Clarence, how could you
think my son would be cruel to zat sweet little lady?
She is in there, and we wish you to console her; is it
not so, Kalidasa?"

And then Diamantina came forward and clas
his hand with the warmth of an Englishman, w ile
his large eyes were full of tears, and he whispered:

“ I have forgiven them all now. He did my fa-
ther’s memory justice, ere he died, and we must re-
pair the injury to his child."

“What do you mean r" asked Clarence, who re-
membered his uncle‘s words: “ Will you for-ego the
claim to the throne of Krishnapoor in deed?“

“ My dear sir “ answered the other, with his old
sweet smile, “ rishnapoor has forgotten us now,
and I have lived long enough in the world to know
that, with all her crueities, England governs the
State better than the Rajahs of old did. I shall es-
tablish my claim by a rivate petition, and clear my

father‘s name from ob oquy; but, I shall never see '

India again. My race came from the Caucasus and
to the aucasus it will return for fresh blood. Imy-
self owe much of my vi or to the white blood of my
mother, and have seen much of civilization to
fiive it up for the lazy barbarism of a Hindoo Rajah.

ut come; we waste time. I have prepared the

' lady for your visit, and you will remember that in

waning her you woo as the nephew of my friend and
b‘nt‘fftciO“. (iiibert Carver, and the heir of a fortune
such as is not. often seen in America. Go in!‘_’

He poian lo the door of the boudoir into which

 
 

s motherto 1

if

the Princess rriielapetros had ust gone, and Clarence
entering, found himself in t e presence of Helen
Lawton m deep black.

New Year‘s eve, 1879, in the cit of Cairo and the
Diamantina Palace is blazin wit light within and
! without while the strains 0 the bands pla g in
I Ezbekia Park mingle with the songs, ch,
‘ Italian, Greek and Arab that float up to the stars
1 from hundreds of little ca/‘és chantanta all through
= the modern quarter of Cairo.

There is a wedding going on at the Diamantina
: mansion, and the duke is bland and smiling as ever
, though he is not the bridegrr om.

There is the chaplain of the American mission to
perform the, ceremon , and the bride is none other
than the Princess Me apetros, as beautiful as ever,
who stands beside a tall, thin man with a long,

inted gray beard, who looks old enough to be her

ather. His breast covered with gold embroidery,
his dark blue uniform, red fez rand scimitar, show
him to be an officer of rank in the Khedive‘s service,
’ and the ests all speak of him with m t as
Kahvah asha the Intendant of Finances or the
new Khedivr, Mohammed Tewfik Pasha.

Among the guests we notice a young American
face, the wearer dressed in the E 'ptian uniform of
a lower grade, and havi on h s arm a beautiful
young lady, who is eviden 1y his wife.

“B the were, Hart Be ," says a voice, close to
his e how, ‘the ould man ooks young again, don't
be? and as for the princess, bedad, she puts the
v colleen here to shame for her twent years! ‘

The speaker is none other than 0' ea, in eveni
dress, with a watch chain glittering with diamon
falling over his vest.

Hart Bey smiles.

” Where 3 Mrs. O‘Shea, to-night?“ he asks. “ Hasn‘t
“‘3 (Slimer'inks t ri usiy d in hisper

' eaw myse 0 ,an says aw ,
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 secur
a real, live husband, and he has got back not on
his watch, but fifty thousand Cgiunds besides, whic
came to him on his wedding y marked “Sofoklé.
Sokréhtie & Co."

Who they were, he never knew, nor did his wife
enlighten him, while Helen naturally said nothing on
the subject connected with so many sinful memo-
ries. hone the less, it was Sir Lum ey's ill- tteu
fortune, which, after being extorted from him y the
brigand’s threats, had now been given back to his
sister by the generous prince, from whose revenues
it 'as ori rinally stolen.

or 0's res, like a true-hearted Irishman, settled
it all on his wife, and the pair lived in clover of! the
interest.

Clarence Hart and his uncle are both to-day in the
Egyptian service as Kahvah Pasha and Hart Bey,
an since the marriage of the former to the Princess
Melapetros, the duke has been getting restless, and
tigeatens to go to Vienna and marry some German
p ncess.

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 Loughborough. by the
death of his consumptive uncle, has let the navy
and lives on his estates.

run END.

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