VICTIM OF HIS CLOTHES

Cromwell Argus, 6 March 1905, Page 6

VICTIM OF HIS CLOTHES

••Whew!" exclaimed Mr. Drane. softly, and he looked hard at, the ground to conceal the incredulity that he knew must snow itself in hi.-* eyes. "I then learned," continued th> young woman, "tbst the man who performed the mock ceremony was authorized to do it in reai earnest, and that the presence of witnesses and the other features of New York law math', tho marriage legal. It was carried t<> the courts and so decided. Pchold me. then, a widow with great wealth. The situation was not wholly pleasant, for people talked and suitors came in troops. So T went abroad. Yesterday J arrived in Amerka again, f know nothing of this city, and yielding to my maid's advice 1 went to the Adams Hotel. That, was in tho early after-i noon. My trunks were to follow me this morning. Fatigued witli the worry of landing and the waiting for customs officers and feeling the approach of a sick headaehe, I retired. Ahout six o'clock I awoke refreshed to find that my maid had disappeared with my clothing, my hand-bag-gage and all my money. She had left mo what I now wear, which I was forced to put on. The clerk of the hotel very impudently discredited my story: said that my mistress had paid the bill and gone, and that I was to follow her to the St. Cloud, lie added, moreover, that! two games of the kind in ono day were more than lie could stand. I was not clear as to his meaning, bin I understood him to refer to some man who had attempted to impose upon the house earlier in the day with a similar story." "Yes, that was me."' groaned Mr. Drane, ungrammatically. "In sheer desperation." continued the hapless widow, "I went to the St. Cloud, but. of course, found no traco of my maid. Since then 1 have waudered ahout most of the time in this park, supperless, sleepless and. until you interposed, friendless. - ' ••Madam." said Mr. Drane. when she had tinished. '"your tale is most inI teresting." I "And a clever fabrication, I suppose?" j she added, sadly. ■•.No, madam, I do not say that,'' he | exclaimed, in confusion, for lie was j struggling hard to believe it. "I am not !a widower, and I have not been robbed jby my valet, but otherwise 1 am in a I situation to tr;.:.l \ our account of your career implicitly. Somebody lias taken !my clothing, my money, my credit, my I name, my identity from me, and i ""Hush!" whispered the widow; "here comes the officer again, bet us be off lie fore he speaks to us." As they walked into the street, and so out of the, "sparrow-chaser's" territory. Mr. Drane's feelings, which kid been somewhat stirred by his companion's recital, sank again to a level with his condition. "What in the world shall wo do'.'" he laskod. "I'm hungry.'' "So am I," said the widow. "I don't know which way to mm." At this moment hurried footsteps be* ■hind them caused them to face about. A.

young man in evening dress and a black eye was coming up with a policeman. "That's the follow!'' exclaimed tie* young man, pointing a t Mr. Drane. "I charge him with unprovoked assault." Mr. Drane's heart went into his boots at the prosf/.Tt of fresh humiliation. hut before he could uttur a word the I policeman had snapped an iron ring ;over his wrist and had said, roughly: "Ponic now. slop lnely!" Dazed. mortihVd. crushed, Mr. Drane could neither Hpelili nor move, and the policeman drew hack- his club to persuade him into motion, but Ihe Mow did not reach him. It raised a cruel ■ weium the young widow's wrist, and [her voice twml.ded with pain and indig- | nation as she said: ••Do not take this gentleman, ilr. OI- ! ii.ee;-! lie was at fault only in defending ime again*) that man's inMUls. P.case let him go." ••That's nonsense, of course, Tom. said, he of the black eye. "The fellow ti'jed lo rub me." "t'oii.c ik.'W, get a move on.'" commanded tin- p/>.i:> e;j;;in. giving Mr. Drane an lincomiyrtabie poke in the small of the hack uiih hi-. < ink Mr. Drane -tnmbkil forward, trying to tell hi*; iu)happy companion to pay no ",t,t<-u.. t tion to nun., when she once more interposed, seizing the-poU,it-p)!in by his club arm and imploring him to tree the prisoner. The policeman shook himself free, prodded Mr. Drane again, and said to the young woman: "Will you clear out now?" ••.Vo! } won't}" she cried, find sue stamped hot 1 foot imperiously. "TLat gent.eman defended ?ms and I won't see him wronged.. So there. The policeman replied by rapping smartly on the walk with bis club, and hardly' had he ceased when another blue coat appeared, "Take the young woman In, Charley, said the first, laconically. "This is an outrage!" exclaimed Mr. Drane, and then that quick, dismal philosophy recurred to bim and ho saw that it was all perfectly natural. Another poke and a warning from the policeman showed him that hj V.'ns folly to resist. So the fivo mareb'.vt tip Broadway to tho nearest station house. Mr. Dpanp wratt. ful and silent, the widow .ui.g.rj&tfit and tearful, and he of the Wacfc eye vengeful.

CHAPTER 111. '*:•■' '*ms£ P A SCOTCH VKUDICT. Arrived at a police station tho party marched in and halted in front of a big counter behind which sat a benignantlooking man reading a book. Drane saw that it was a volume of Shakespeare, and he felt a dim hopo that this man; at least would prove to bo kind and" trusting. Ho did not know tho New" York policemen,though he was scraping acquaintance with the species faster" than ho really cared to. The man at the desk continued to read until ho had como to a convenient stopping place when he took up a pen, looked at Drane and asked: , )v "What's your name?" It flashed over poor Lawrence that all tho reporters in town would write up his adventures, that tho accounts would be telegraphed to Western newspapers, and that a full measure of disgraceful notoriety would bo heaped upon him. So, "Tom Jones," he replied at hazard. The benignant man's face wrinkled into an incredulous sneer, but he put the name down without a word. Then, "Where do you live?" he demanded. "Kansas City," faltered Lawrence, 1 utterly at a loss to carry on his fiction, and when he was questioned as to his : business ho hung his. head in despair. His garments would belio his claim to be a gentleman; for tho same reason he' could not explain that he was charged with enlisting Boston capital in the interest of a new railroad, a commission that he had undertaken nioro for the sake of diversion than for any need of money-making, and in a fair frenzy of misery he blurtod out: #&&& : «»*- "I haven't any business!" n "Umph! walkinggont, I suppose,"said the man at the big desk. "What were you doing with this man and woman?" The young lady at once began a protest and explanation which wascheoked by the officer in charge of her, who growled: "Say. yous, will you keep quiet until you're asked to say something?" The accuser declared that Drane had assaulted him and tried to rob him. "Lock him up," said the benignant man, drily; and the obedient policeman conducted Lawrence to a coll. As he passed through the doorway he heard the young lady sobbing bitterly. Walking down the corridor he repressed the tremendous resentment that raged within him. but as soon as the key was turned lie addressed his conductor: "I wish you'd let me have a word with you." The officer paused. Drane bad intended to tell his story, hoping to convince his jailor, if not of his innocence, that at, least there was a gravo error in. the proceedings some whore, but his feelings overpowered him. "I'd have you understand," be exclaimed, "that you don't know whom you are dealing with. I could buy this house fifty times over and not feel it! My reputation never has been questioned, and somebody will suffer for this. Why—" "Oh, rats!" interrupted tho jailor, and lie walked away. There is no phrase in polite or vulgar literaturo that compresses so much contempt into so small a spaco as that ono word "Rats!" It is unanswerable, complete, depressing. As Lawrence listened to his jailor's retreating footsteps his resentment turned to disgust. "That just ahows," he thought, "how ill-fitted I am for these clothes. If I had been brought up to wear them I should havo known how to express myself adequately. Some really shocking language might have had an effect on that fcllow." Then for four mortal hours Lawrence ruminated on visions of penal servitude, balls and chains, breaking rocks, stories of galley slaves; and ho wondered whether much famed Sing Sing would bo better ventilated than his present quarters. He took one little comfort in his gruesome reflections —he could at Ififiat depend on something to eat as long as tho Government should bo his host. There was no breakfast for him, however, and when at last he was marched to Jeiferson Market court ho was in that state of faintness that he would have walked willingly many milf'S, had the officers, required it. Without realizing how time had passed, or what had happened, he found himself ono of a nondescript company shut in by an iron railing. The ,tudie-ee room, was crowded with spec* tators, and in the enclosure where he stood were policemen, lawyers and reporters. Lawrence shrunk as closeas he could against the wall and gave way to profound discouragement. "Well, pard," said a low voice at his side, "youseerp to have struck it rough this time." Drane saw a man iu rags more loath? some than his ow r n, with rum-bloated features leering at him sympathetically, "You havo tpe advantage of me, sir," he responded, haughtily. •'I guess not," said the other, with a dreadful smile. "That ain't to say that [ knows ye, that I ever had the honor of 'soclutin' with ye, but I recognize tho fraternity wherever I comes across 'em, Drane shuddered. Xl Wfe^i#Pii.: "fni goin' to take a vacation at tho island," continued the other, cheerfully, "Got kind o' tired walkin', an' need to rest up. Spect to go up for long?" "I don't know what they will do with me," replied Drane, "and I don't want to talk to you," *r''All right, all right," said tho ragamuffin, "only if you ain't used to this business you'll find 'foro long that it's useful to make friends wherever you can pick 'cm up. No tellln* what a man might do for you, seo?" Lawrence turned away, feeling in his Jjsgusta forlorn conviction that tho fellow was probably right. At tho other side of the court whero several women prisonors wero grouped ho saw the young lady whose misfortune had had so much to do with bringing him there. Ho started at onco to go over and speak to her, and of course a policeman prevented him. Ho saw that sho was speaking Kagarly with an elderly lady who stood on the other side of the pail, "Sho at least has found a friend," thought Drane, and so it proved, for in a few minutes she was called before tho i-idire. aud Uiu lady zlvA "P