On the Trail.

Ohinemuri Gazette, Volume VIII, Issue 493, 14 May 1898, Page 5 (Supplement)

On the Trail.

By K. F. Hill.

Author Of " The Dumb Detective," , . &c. (Continued. ) CHAPTER XX. She got tired," and made every excuse for not going. She was tired of ;him ? Yes—she told me so. Did she ever say she wished he was dead, or anything liice that ? No, I don't remember her sayino- that. She used to say, ' What a fool I was!' and then stop short, and her .eyes would be like fire, and her cheeks like roses. But he kept on loving her. More and more. Sometimes I pitied him for Being such a fool, and sometimes I despised him for being'so soft. And yet he could be so hard and bitterly unforgiving ! The words were uttered below Mrs Angell's breath.

What did you say? snapped Maud. Nothing Well, Miss Card ell left the school. Yes, in spite of all Monsieur Floria could say ; and .she pacified him by saying they'd be more free, and she could see him oftener but I doubt if she did, for any fool could see with half an eye she was sick and tired of him, When did you see her next. I never saw her for two years, and didn't want to, for she promised she'd get me a good place, and never done it; but about three weeks ago —no, about ten days, I can't remember just how long—after Mr Floria left of coming to teach, I met my lady in Macy's store. Tt was about Christmas time, I know, for the stores were all open in the evening, and I went to buy a pair of wristlets for a young man I kept company with—a policeman, and a mean fellow he was, too —never so much as bought me a pint of peanuts.

Well, you met Miss. Cardell ?. asked Mrs. Angell impatiently,. Yes; tjiere she, was, as proud as ( a king,, in her sealskin and dia-monds—-no Jess. s . v Did she know, you ? , Not till I pulled her sleeve, arid then she started and turned all the col ours, in the' rainbow. What''did/she say ? . / ', She sat down on a seat—it was jiist By'; tin? candy counter—and she' says, ; Why, Matty!' and I says, 'Yes, Matty; didn't your'; husband toll you I was still at madam's ? I said ifc oi.it loud, and all the people looked at us, for I was mad. And what then ? She says; 'Matt, for*' .heaven's sake, bush'!' 'arid I says, fßy the'b'y he ain't come to madam's for ten days, and she's awful uneasy.' She L'olliid her eyeJ awful; and didn't speak for a while. Then she says, ''M;t.fcty, lam going'to' be very'rich in a day or'two. I'll take earo of yon/ And you answered '. ' Yes, like you did before.' ' No,' she says, ' I pi-omisft you, that, if you will meet me to-night I'll Lake you to nice rooms, and you shall have every tiling you want.' Ami she did it ? Yc-i, she did it. i went home, got my wage-!, and packed up my clothes, wont out and met her, at the corner, where, a .carriage was waiting. I l.old m idam that Mriy mother, or ;iuut, or some lady, was very ill. And whori did she take you ? To tin* house in Oiinton place, whore you found me.

An I' what explanation did she give of such extraordinary conduct ? .

'',/She., said she had gi veh Mdnsieu r $]o'ria a lot of inbtiey, to go to Eiiropo, arid I.' that she was about to marry d very.■'wealthy man. If I promisiid ' faithfully never. to reveal her. Secret, shy would support me, and I'need never do another stroke "of work; '

She gave: you : ffib uey ? 'Yes, but riot very freely. Not very freely ? No ; 1 had to give her a hint. What kind of a hint ? I told h<"f I real all about the murder at the Vaudenhoff House the day after we saw Monsieur Floria for the last time. 'What murder ?

The words were gasped out hoarsely, and Mrs'An<*ol I'seizecl lier companion by the aVm.

Why, didn't you read about the youu^ man^s body that was found in Uio Varidenhon" lluuse 'i No.' .

Well, the very last'time'"Floria. came to. the house, I opened the door for liiin, and he said, ' Well, my £o.od Matty'—that's what lie used to call me— 'you'll fjobii' be looking out for Christmas boxes V

I said ' Yes, sir ;' and wo never saw him again. You never .saw him again ? No, that was the hist oil him. And what did Mrs Forrest say when you told her this? She laughud a HtUo, arid said. 'So you thiiik I was fool enough to murder Gustav ? She said it so cool that T felt sure I must be wrong, but after that I got al! the nionay I wanted, Mrs Augsll sit plunged in thought, her face pale, her brows knit. And I know she didn't kill him,' for she show.cd me a letter he wrote to her after that murder was all over. ' - Are you certain ? j How the stern face brightened ! Yes ; I didn't think of,that when you told me about her proposal to poison me. But anyhow she didn't kill him, though.for a moment I suspected, if she was bad enough to poison me, she'd be bad enough to poison him.

She would, said Mrs Angell, emphatically. Well, she didn't, you see, for if she had he couldn't write her a letter. Did you see this letter ? I read it every word. What did ho say in it? He said he wa.s all right, and going .to come into a title in France. A tiule in Franco! gasped Mrs Angell, Yes. And he said nothing about returning ? No, only that he loved her as devotedly as ever. Yet you told me that you thought he would return. So I do. On account of his love for her ? A bitter smile curled the lip of the questioner. Yes, he loves her madly. Well, Maud, I must leave,you. I wish' 1 had seen the account of {.hat murder; I would have got a sight of the body of the murdered man.

Don't you read the papers ? Mot very irnch. I always do, atnl I like the personals. Do you ?

Yes, and do you know, just about j the time Monsieur Floria disappeared from the school, I saw a funny one. Jt was all in figures, and it had Miss Card oil's name to it. What ? ,;. Yes, Not ' M iss Cardell,'-.. of. course, but her front name It is such an odd aiamo, I always remeraber it — ' Pb.iie.ttis.' It is such a queer name ! Puts me in mind of the Bible. .. ■'.• And you .saw that name among the personals, soon after Monsieur Floria ;ceased 'to visit the school ? asked Mrs Angell, with white lips, j Yes. ■ I told her about it.- "• What did she say ? She said there must be more people by the same name, and laughed, and said, lI don't like figures well enough to -use' them in any shape.' . Neither she did. \Have you got-that paper with the personal, Mand? Bless you ! No. And if I had,_ you couldn't malp head or tail of it. Probably riot; bufc I'd like to see hv ■■"" ... .... ;/;/.. . ....'.;-: Well, I'm 'sorry l have not, got it.;- ;.\ „;. . ' . ./■. .■■ .. Now, Maud, I am going. You will hear from me soon, arid see.me. If you care 'io go out, do so; but for, your own sake, be carefu 1. '.'Oh'bless you ! Oart-roggs wouldn't "drag me over the door. She, or that poisonous widower, would catch me sure. ' ! . Well, good-by. Keep cheerful, .j I'll take care of you. Mrs Angell left Miss •MastJyn,: arid took !her way, not home to the mansibri of her mistress, but down ! town to the ' Herald ' Office, where she asked,. arid., obtained^ permission to look over the file of that paper.

CHAPTER XXL When Ruth arrived at.the home where she had spent .so many happy, 'peaceful years, she found it silent and. dark. No one came to meet her as the hack drove up; no welcoming lights or kindly voices greetedjier, ■;. Oh, how ill poor papa must be ! she exclaimed, as she sprang from the carriage. ■? ,;Shall I put your trunk in the porchT inqnired the hackman, as the givl rang the hell. Wait a moment please, she replied, and with trembling 1 lingers she drew her purse from her pocket and counted his fare. A slow, heavy footstep, sounded along the passage; and old Ellen, the housekeeper, stood befoiv her. Allen's face was very pale, and very grave. So you've come at last, miss! she

said, in reproachful accents. 'At last,' Ellen ! Why, I came the moment I recefcWl Dr Gibson's telegram, Ellen ! exclaimed Ruth. Yes; but it was rather too late before hu sent it. Why didn't you come when 1 wrote the letter telling you how fast -your father was failing ? I nevui' received smv letter, Ellen. Well, I wrote it a week ago, and sent it off. And you addressed it to me — where 1 Your Aunt Agnes' house, of course. Oh, Ellen ! I was not there, That's not lily fault; that's-the only address I know, replied Ellen,

Ruth turned lieart-sick, she had not visited her aunt Agnes for more than a week, and "she also knew that lady =■ was bitterly offended with her 1 for preferring the Ash tons to herself.

If any letters had came for Ruth she would allow them to remain till the girl called for them. And Ellen—how'is papa ? Me is better, said Ruth, solemnly. Oh! Thank God! Yes, thank God from your heart. He is better. Safe and free from pain and sorrow,/toil and care. Ellen you frighten me. Yet you .say he is better ? cried Ruth, her lips white with agony. He is better. He died at one o'clock to-day! Ellen—my father ? Ruth stood still for a moment, then trembled like an aspen, and sank insensible on the floor. What a shame! exclaimed the burly haekman, whose soft heart made up for his hard face. Why in thunder didn't you break" the news to her easy or send "for the parson to do it like they did when my Sally died ? I She did not deserve to have" it broken to her, deserting the best father that ever breathed, to run to New York after her lover, replied Ellen, ffrimlv.

Well, are you going to let her lie there ?

No—carry her to her room. ■ With gentle hands the man raised her and bore her'to her own little chamber. There he laid her oirthe bed.

How white she is, said ' the ' man, with more compassion in his rough sun-burned face than there was in Ellen's. - - -

Yes, she has a good '.reason to be white ; when she comes to her senses she will know what a stiag ihere is in remorse. The.worm that dieth not, and the fire that is nof- quenched, came Ellen's stern voice. Don't you think you'd do better to get a doctor, instead of preaching over this poor young creature? asked the hackman, indignantly. I'll get a doctor—that's my business. Have you taken up her trunk, and got your money ? The young lady paid me, but I have not brought up the trunk. Well, do so and then go. I wish t<> remove Miss McLoad's - dress. The hackman took his departure, wishing he had left the'insensible girl in gentler hands. fie need have been under no misapprehensions, • however, . for E lien's heart was good .though her tongue was rough. - .... She loved Ruth and .tended, her from a child, but her ideas w.ere of the strict old-fashioned school; descended from old Puritan stock, she was still a Puritan in heart and principles. She disapproved of Ruth's ..visit 1 to New York, and had openly-. s rated her opinion, when it was first proposed.. Now that the professor lay dead in his quiet bed-chamber, his last moments, unattended. by his only and tenderly loved child, El|enlelt bitter against the girl, who had pro-, feriedher lover to her kind aiid indulgent parent. „.., She had no excuse for Jier, rib sympathy with her, but. when, her anger had passed she would' relent, and love Ruth as tenderly as before. - :,.,-.-,. :.'• Doctor Gibson came and „ was horrified to find the young^girl so changed. He could not account for the wasted face and' fragile figure. She looked years older than she did when she left home. , !( . ,■ It can't be her father's, death that has wrought such havoc,, said ,the doctor, for she dhly heard .otifc ldtet night. I ponder what .has happenedto my djmtii bright little Rut})..,.. / , L He k^v- nothing of the^f earful s\ strain updßrheart and nerves that-v, Ruth had endured. v , „,, .. She was worn-out, physically and. mentally, before coming .hon^e,.and the sudden shock of t her, .father's • death completely j:rostrated her. ' For weuk-i >*he lay in the merciful oblivion of brain fever. (Tc Is Continued.J