THE SMUGGLER'S CAPTIVE.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 7988, 13 February 1897, Page 4

THE SMUGGLER'S CAPTIVE.

BY SEAWARD W. HOPKINS,

Author of " F.mmetfs Girl," etc

CHAPTER IV,

It is not a far cry from New York to the city of Utica when the swift and luxurious train known as the Empire State Express makes the distance in four hours and twenty-five minutes. Utica ia a thriving and wealthy city, boasting of broad streets lined with splendid residences, well-kept lawns, playing fountains, and great overhanging trees that arch the streets and avenues.

In one of the finest houses in Genesee Street, tho finest street of the city, lived Jame3 Denman and his daughter Alice.

Everything about the Denman place, from the low stone wall in front to the arbors in the rear, showed care and artistic taste. The house was large and roomy, furnished with an elegance that was in keeping with its proportions, and from the broad portico a view could be had a half mile northward toward the business portion of the city, and a mile to the south, out along the boulevard that leads to the little suburb New Hartford.

James Denman had for some years been a widower, and the large establishment provided by his wealth was presided over by his beautiful daughter Alice, of whom it is unnecessary to say much in description, for her beauty and refinement havo already been noted. For it was Alice Denman, the beautiful young heiress of the Utica manufacturer, who had been captured by Andreas and Bumpo Wigg, and whom Sinclair had attempted to save, to his own outdoing. Since the death of Mrs Denman, Alice had made frequent visits to New York, where she was always a welcome guest in the house of her father's brother, Mr George Denman, who was a broker on "Wall Street, New York, and who lived in a stately house on Madison Avenue.

George Denman had married a widow, Mrs Clara Goode, who had a son some few years older than Alice, and thoro was a strong friendship between the young people that was fostered and nourished by Mrs Denman. Charles Goode was a good-looking young man, and while at home, under the cold eyes of George Denman, boro himself with a respectful demeanor. But in reality Charles was a sad young rake, and it was with the utmost difficulty that his mother kept the news of his escapades from reaching her husband's ears.

She paid his bills, and, while she remonstrated with him on his extravagancies, she did not properly reprove him for his conduct, for Clara Denman held to the opinion that young people should be allowed to see the world.

And Charles saw it, if ever a young man did, and at twenty-three he had crowded more foolishness and vice into his idle life than generally come to men of evil habits and mature years.

It was the pet ambition of C!ara Denham's life to see her son married to her husband's niece.

No better partner could be found for the impecunious Charles than Alice, for she was beautiful enough to satisfy his artistic tastes, and would, upon her father's death, and probably before, be wealthy enough to allow him ample means to enjoy himself. So the vagaries and wickedness of Charles were carefully hidden from Alice, and she looked upon him as a handsome young man, of sterling moral worth, whom she was glad to have as as a friend, though as yet nothing had been said of any closer ties.

Mr James Denman's business frequently called him to New York, but as he was a very busy man, and gave little time or attention to social duties, he did not make his brother's house his headquarters, but generally stopped at the Astor House, where he was in closer touch with the men he came to see, thus enabling him to get his business done sooner than ho would otherwise have done.

It was Mr Denman's habit, when all his business was transacted, to make a visit to his brother's house, spending one evening there, and then hurry home to attend to his many financial interests, and to Alice, in whom his heart and soul were centred.

It sometimes happened that" Alice accompanied him to New York, and remained behind with her uncle's family, when her father returned to Utica.

Or she might precede him to New York, timing her departure so that her visit would be made, and she would be ready to accompany her father home when he came from his business trip.

A few weeks before the adventure related in the previous chapter, Alice had left Utica to make her uncle and aunt a visit, expecting to return with her father when he made his regular summer visit to New York.

Mrs Denman had resolved that this time matters between Alice and Charles should be brought to a satisfactory conclusion, and bent herself to make the girl's visit a happy one. And Charles quite outdid himself in entertaining her, and remained at home so many evenings that his companions at the club and less reputable places wondered if he was dead.

Among the pleasures of Mrs Denman was shopping. She was indefatigable in the industry of squandering her husband's money, and her horses and victoria were to be seen at least three days in a week before some of tbe largest and most fashionable stores,

One day, during the last visit of Alice, she and Mrs Denman were out shopping, this time it being tho real thing, both wishing to buy something they needed. As their carriage stopped at the curb before a large store, and they stepped across the walk to the entrance, they were met by a large, handsome and overdressed woman, who came out of the door they were going in.

This woman shot a quick, admiring glance at Alice, but the half smile on her face soon to a sneer when she saw the face of Clara Denman.

Mrs Denman's faco was white and set, and she bit her lips in evident annoyance.

' How that woman stared at me, Aunt Clara 1' said Alice. ' Such a flashy thing, too.'

' You must not mind that, my dear,' replied Mrs Denman. ' You are too beautiful to pass unnoticed on the streets of New York,'

The passing woman, when she could without being seen by Alice or Mrs Denman, turned and watched them until they had disappeared inside the store.

'So that's the heiress, is it V she said to herself. »Luck seems to hang to Clara Denman's cloak. It will be another feather for her if she gets that girl for her son.' Sho swept across the walk, entered a carriage that was waiting, and was driven away.

'My eyes !' said a young man who was walking up the avenue with an older man,' what a stunner 1 That's a woman for you. Do you know her?'

The elder smiled

'It would be difficult to find a man

about town who did not know Madame La Tour,' he said.

' French, eh ?'said the younger. ' Only in name. I believe she married a Frenchman by the name of La Tour, but whether she did or not, she took the name, and no one in New York has ever seen monsieur. Dead, probably. She's American herself, and she's a hard one. ' You've been at the House that Jack Built, have you not V ' No, nor do I know what you mean,' said the younger. < I recall a nursery rhyme about a house that Jack built, but it is not included in my calling list.'

' You'd better not include this one. Madame La Tour is the proprietress of the wickedest, most luxurious gambling house in New York City. bhe owns the property, and at the time she bought it she had a lover named Jack Dinbriar, who ruined himself trying to satisfy her expensive tastes. The house was called the ' House that Jack Built.' I don't suppose there is anything in the line of wickedness that is not done in Madame La Tour's resort, either under the glare of the electric lights and full swell of the music, or in darkened rooms, the walls of which never tell their secrets.'

The young man shuddered

' Your Madame La Tour is not a pleasant woman when one hears of her. What a wretch she must be !'

1 She is called tho wickedest woman in the world,'said the elder man, ' aud, so far as I know, she has no rival for the title.'

Entirely oblivious of the adverse comment her appearance had excited, Madame La Tour lolled back in her satin-lined carriage, her jewelled fingers clasped over the handle of a French parasol, the diamonds at her throat and ears gleaming and glistening with hardly more lustre than was in her eyes.

The carriage stopped before tho door of a large mansion on First Street, and Madame La Tour alighted and entered the door.

Whatever might be said of the inside of Madame La Tour!s house, the outside was as circumspect and modest as one could wish. From the appearance, it might be the residence of a quiet family of wealth and retired ustes, though tho location was, perhaps, rather against this suggestion. Madame La Tour passed through the broad hall, paying no attention to i lie scenes within the adjoining rooms, 11 nd went straight to her own luxurious apartment, where she threw aside her cirriage cloak, gloves, aud hat, with its waving ostrich plumes, and began pacing the room, evidently in deop thought, though the expression on her face was more of passion than of study. ' So,' she muttered, clenching her plump, bediamond hands until the nails almost cut into the flesh, ' she rides it over me again—the hypocrite ! Every time I meet her she makes me feel her scorn. And what is she any more than I 7 She is worse, for lam no hypocrite ; and she will sell her soul for gold, and wear a saintlike smile in her husband's presence, as if no evil ever entered the sacred precincts of her womanly soul. Bah ! Don't I know 7 Who is she that she should look upon me with scorn 7 I could tell a few tales if I would. Oh, how I hate her ! Oh, if I could but cut her to the heart, humble her pride, ruin her ambitions 1 With what pleasure would I see her grovelling at my foet for mercy ! Mercy 7 ha, ha ! I would give her mercy, as she now gives me love ! Scorn for scorn, hate for hate ! My motto—yes, my motto ! What can i do to hurt her—the wretch 7 Ah !'

Madame La Tour's face turned pale, and she paused in her walk and clutched at her dress, so great was her emotion, ecstasy, surprise or whatever it might be, that had come with her sudden thought.

' The very thing 1' she said. ' Clara Denman's entire ambition—her soul, her life—is hanging upon the marriage of her son to that beauty and heiress from Utica. Money for me ; disappointment and sorrow for her. And I need a new attraction now. The very thing 1 And Andreas is the boy to do it for me 1 Dear Andreas ! I wonder how I would have survived the loneliness of life had Andreas not loved me ? Yes!' and Madame La Tour's face became purple with rage, and she shook her fist at an imaginary enemy—' Yes ! Clara Denman, the scorned one is loved, and loves ! It is not for the hypocrite to have all the pleasures of life. You may think yourself happy in the love of your deluded husband, but think of the sleepless nights you have spent trying to think of ways to blind hi? eyes—to keep from him all knowledge of your own indiscretions and tbe line doings of your lovely son. But lam loved by a man who knows me—knows all—and who loves me. That is love ! When 1 am a wife, perhaps I will not be the object of your scorn. Bah ! I'll always be what I am, wife or no wife. Men must be amused. As long as there is wealth in New York to be squandered in pleasures, gambling, opium-smoking, the dance, etc., etc.— why should I not have my share of it 7 Madame La Tour or Madame Wigg, it will be the same. I shall always be the wickedest woman in the world, except—Clara Denman.'

The monologue was interrupted by a knock at the door.

• Come in,' said Madame La Tour,

The door opened, and a black servant entered with a tray, upon which lay a card.

' A visitor for Madame,' he said. She carelessly took the card, looked at it, and smiled.

' How opportune !' she murmured. Then, to the servant : ' Tell him to come up.'

A heavy step sounded on tho stairs, and Andreas Wigg entered tho room. ' I wanted you,' said Madame La Tour.

She stood in the centre of the room, a splendid creature, with her panting bosom, glistening jewels, flashing eyes, and skin of velvet, not yet ruined by rouge. An enraged tigress—a heathen goddess. Anything that is beautiful and bad, she looked and was. ' Ada, my darling,' said Andreas Wigg, stepping quickly to her and kissing her. ' Am I your darling 7' she asked, fondling him. ' Onn you doubt it 7 Why do you ask?' he answered.

' Because I want you to prove it.' ' Have I not proven it many times, my untamed one 7' asked Andreas. ' Once more !" she said, half hissing the words.

' What do you want now ? A diamond necklace, a new span for your carriage, a new gown 7 Name it. It is yours.'

' None of these,' she said, < I want a girl stolen from her friends.' ' What, another so soon 7'

' There is a girl now stopping with George Denman on Madison Avenue. Her father is James Denman, of Utica, and may be expected to visit New York on business very soon. That is his habit. It may help you. If you love me, bring me that girl." ' And why that one, star of my life 7' Madame La Tour laughed. ' Because,' she said, ' she is wonderfully beautiful, young and innocent. She will be a valuable attraction. But there is another reason. By putting her where I tvill put her, I will hurt the woman I hate most in the world.'

' Ah, and who is the woman you hato so devilishly, my beautiful tigress 7' «My sister, Clara Denman, who

scorns me, because I am not a hypocrite like her.'

' Oh,' said Andreas Wigg, smiling. ' Well, you shall have the girl,' |'to bk continued.]