UNDER EGYPTAIN SKIES.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 28, Issue 23, 24 March 1916, Page 7

UNDER EGYPTAIN SKIES.

(Copyright.)

A Romantic Story of Love and Adventure.

By St. George Rathborne, Author of "Th? Mnn from Denver/-' ‘ Mynheer Foo,’’ " The Nabob of Singapore, Etc.

1 "—■* PART 7. “Nonsense ! How silly it would be to saddle another’s crime on you !’’ “I am relieved to hear you say so. This was- the story I meant to tell you. It was repugnant to me, you sec. and I put it oil’ as long as possible. And so Cushman made a mistake in my identity, did he ?” 'Well, a good many things pointed in that direction. On my part 1 had grmt trouble to believe you •nJirely innocent. Again and again, when things would crop up that were s-rnply demoralising, 1 had to resolutely banish the whole subject." "Ah, IWj, you are, indeed, a friend having !” "Come now, none of that.” ■n’ell ms what Cushman told you, and in return I will, relate all I know about the sad matter." "Willingly." So Boh repeats hia conversation with the man from Kalamazoo, almost word for word, and when he has finished Max. is able to add very little, id nee the account which he received was hardly as complete. Ho is visibly disturbed over the fact of his cousin having run away with .loncs’s daughter, which arouses his hitter feelings more than the robbery, since the money part can be forgiven, but the loss of a darling child, never. From this subject they drift to others, and finally, when Bob has yawned dismally for the fifth time, Max declares they would do well to adjourn, Another morning in Alexandria. The various elements that go to make up the warp and woof of the fabric bring woven in the country of the Pharoahs, and gathered under the hospitable roof of the Peninsular and Oriental Hotel, are astir at the ordinary hour. Bob and Max brenkfast together, but Merwin having something to look after, leaves Ids friend at the table and passes out. Whom should he run across in the ante-room but the doctor. A decided change has come over the little man ; he still nervously clutches at his diminutive moustache, as though he might he afraid lest it take wings and fly away ; but the simper of affectation has quite disappeared, for the time being, at least. Really, Archie seems to swell visibly before the eyes—there may still be some hope of his reaching a respectable size, with such a massive parent as a pattern.

When, ho comes face to face with Ma ! s, the latter is astonished at the fierceness of his demeanour ; why, the little man actually scowls like a [urate, and gritting his teeth savagely, assumes an attitude that might even demoralise a fighting Frenchman. "Ah, sir, you have finished your breakfast. I have waited long for you, but my time has come at last —at last !” he fairly" hisses, while bis face turns first scarlet and then white with apparent fury. Max is amazed. What does "'this singular thing mean ? How has he managed to offend the doctor ? If it were only Bob, now, he could see some method in his madness ; for Bob has set his heart ujion the same idol which the medical student worships, and between rivals there must always be a species of bitter rivalry. True, the discipline of Aesculapius generally mistakes him for Bob Craig, but that has nothing to do with the question of rivalry. So Max, with considerable uneasiness, not iin mixed with curiosity, awaits further developments. The doctor glares and puffs out like a blow-adder ; he looks as though he could assault his fel-low-citizen without much provocation —for all the world like a bantam .'.icing a lengthy Shanghai. “The time has come, sir, for a reckoning ! Make a note of it, sir’ !” he exclaims, clenching one of his fists, which is hardly larger than the redoubtable Miss Sally could display. “Indeed, do I owe you anything, doctor, demands Max, repressing a smile; for it is ridiculous to see this manikin hopping about in front of him, actually boiling over with rage, though he does not forget that even such an odd character as Archie Jones may become dangerous. “You owe me an explanation, sir,” retorts the fuming pigmy. This does not clear the atmosphere, Max is still in the dark, “Concerning Whom ? Is there a lady in the case ?” he asks, determin ’d to discover what the other really has in mind, and still suspecting he has mixed him up with Hob’s love affairs. To his; surprise, the doctor, becomes more violent than before.' “There is, sir. What I wish ex- ; lained first of all is your identity, sir,” lie thunders, in his own Ta'-cato way. “Ah I I see. Well, doctor, it has Peon vour mistake, not mine. From !he start you persisted in mixing ij;,. up, and despairing of correcting

you, I allowed the matter to stand. To some people I am known as Boh Craig, to others, Max Menvin.’’ "In reality you are" "My name is Menvin.” The doctor calms down with a desperate effort, but he appears even more terrifying in this state than the one preceding it. ■ * You also sport the name of Carlton, 1 believe ?" lie sneers. Max gives a start, and no longer smiles. He sees light now. "Yes," he answers gravely; " that is, I am sorry to confess, u family name which was incorporated with mv own, and which until recently I have never been, compelled to blush for. My mother was a Carlton.” "Just as I thought. Then you and I have a little affair to settle; make a note of it, sir.” "See here, doctor, explanations are in order, I’think." , “You show the white feather; explanations be hanged, sir." "I can satisfy you that it is all a miserable mistake.” "You can do nothing of the kind, sir. You are a rascal; you have abused the confidence of the best old gentleman in the world, my poor dad. Thank Heaven ! he has a son able to stand up for him !’’ At this dramatic outburst Max almost breaks into a hearty laugh, and only with great difficulty does he keep a straight face; the idea of this little manikin standing guard over a six-foot-two giant is supremely ridiculous—all of which goes to prove that a man may be insignificant to others, yet a terrible being in his own imagination. "I have never expressed a doubt as to your . ability to take care of the family honour—as the only son, such a duty devolves upon you, What T seek is a chance to tell the truth, which must sooner or later lie known to the whole world, I am sorry to say,” "Not on your life, sir—not if I can prevent it. That is what I am here for. • Dead men tell no tales, sir, and it is my hope to leave you in that condition on the field of honour !” exclaims the doctor, loftiiy. "What, you would force me into a duel ?" "Yes, sir ; to the death, sir.” "Humph ! but I positively refuse to meet you, doctor," Max says, calmly. "Then you 'are a coward, sir." "I do not tVink so; my past will bear me out against that charge." "Your past—that is your crowning infamy, sir? You say you will not fight ; I will compel you to do so." Before Max relaises to what extreme measures the other is about to resort, the doctor has raised his daintily-clad foot and actually kicked him. The cheeks of the taller man flush under their coating of tan —this is an insult to whith no Anglo-Saxon will submit—and his teeth grate together under sudden anger; he could crush the little man as one does an eggshell, but with a violent effort he restrains his passion, remembering what cause the doctor has for making an ass ; of himself. "Another man than yourself would have suffered for such an action,” he says, in a low but tense voice. "And why not turn on me ?" eagerly. "I consider the source—you would be like a baby in my hands." “But the insult—you are bound to fight, to wipe it out on the field of honour. * Pistols, swords, take your choice. It matters little to me,” he pants. "Then J propose squirt-guns at five paces, and , the man who is first overcome to be declared vanquished." The doctor gnashes his teeth, "Then you refuse to fight me ?" "Positively." "It will be all- the worse for you —make a note of it, sir. I shall resign in favour of one who will wring your miserable neck os he has been itching to do for a long time." ."Meaning your awful dad ?” "Yes, the truest-hearted man, who ever drew breath." "I fully endorse your sentiments, doctor. 1 shall be glad to meet Mr. Jones of Michigan. I believe him to be a. sensible man, and I shall hope to convince him of what, it seems, I cannot force upon his son.” " Sir, explain. I trust I am not altogether unreasonable,” declares Archie, awaking to the fact that there is in this matter than he may have ever suspected. "You refuse to listen." "I will do so now." "Which shows you are coming to your senses. Be kind enough, then, to come over into this recess, where we can converse in peace.” Fortunately there has been no witness to their meeting save a single astonished servant ; so that the insult of the headstrong little medical man has not been seen. When they reach the spot designated, Max has decided upon his plan of action. The truth must bo told, for here is a man possessed of a genuine grievance, with whom he sympathises. Besides, the governor will speedily bo on the rampage, and Jones of Michigan is a man with whom Max would hardly care to have an argument, though, as a general thing, quite able to look after himself. He proceeds to tell the doctor what happened on the preceding night as the easiest way of reaching the kernel inside the nut. Archie listens with a fair show of attention, although for a time he is unable to discover for the life of him what connection all this has With the particular business that interests him

so keenly. Finally he strikes the scent, and* when Max' discloses the identity of the "Henry” engaged with Von Phul in his blackmailing schemes for ransom and plunder, the doctor shows evidence of considerable excitement. "Why, I saw that very man myself, walking with Von Phul only yesterday. At the time I looked at him closely, with the idea that I had met him somewhere before ; but the rascal has changed his ap-pearance-grown a beard.” “That is true, doctor.” "And you are his cousin ?” "1 am sorry to have to a r v.,'r yes. ’ ’ "You will pardon me?" "Willingly.” "And pocket the —a —insult ?’’ "With pleasure. Only don't let it ever happen again. , I am a peaceful man, but one may go too far even with me." "Jove ! I’ll make a note of it, sir. One more favour. “Well?" “Could I ask you to shake hands with me ?” "Proud to do so.” “It would look as though you had really forgiven me my ridiculous assault. I’m hardly a bully, you know, and it seldom enters my head to terrorise any man ; but you must admit that, in the present instance, the provocation was fcxtremely great.” "Yes, indeed," returns Max, gravely repressing a smile. “There is only one more favour that I would like to ask, though I hesitate because I have met so many cruel rebuffs lately.” "Speak on, doctor.” "You realise, of course, one is apt to pass iu his checks at any time ?” . "Die, you mean ?” "That’s it. Glad you grasp the idea so easily, Mer win. Death loves a shining mark; the old reaper may cut you down in your prime, How can you tell whether your life may not bo demanded of you this very night ?” "That is true, doctor," answers the smiling but sorely puzzled Max. "Then, my dear man, what folly to go unprepared for this event," "Are you handling tracts, doctor?” "Sir ?”—freezingly. "Pardon me ; I mean, what company do you represent ? I cannot touch these new tontine policies—the old-line life companies suit me best." “Great heavens, he takes me for a miserable life-insurance agent !" gasps young Jones, throwing up both hands with a gesture of despair. "If I am wrong, please explain.” "With infinite pleasure, sir. Perhaps you may not be aware of the fact that I believe I have made . a wonderful discovery"—Max smiles blandly now—" a discovery, sir, by means of which many persons supposed to be dead will be restored to thedr sorrowing friends. You would be amazed if I told you how many thousands of people are buried alive each year.” "Ah, I see. What is it you wish me to do ?" "An experiment, therefore, would accomplish much. If you could allow me, therefore" "Tempos, fngit, doctor. I promise you this, that if I feel I am about to die, I will send for you if within reach of the telegraph. More than that I could not say.” “A thousand thanks, my dear fellow”—drawing out a memorandum book, together with a formidable pencil. "I will make a note of it, and I shall surely come if within a thousand miles, with the greatest pleasure in the world, to sit upori your case.” "Thanks, in return,” says Max,grimly. "What’s in the wind here?” asks a voice, and Bob Craig saunters up. The doctor turns upon him. "Eureka ! here’s another promised subject—have his name down in black and white. There is still hope, and the day may soon dawn when my opportunity for an experiment will arrive, and the name of Jones go ringing down the ages as a benefactor of jnankind.” "But something has been going on. Tell me all about it,” says Bob. There is no reason why it should be kept a secret from him, and presently Bob is put in possession of the facts. He agrees with the doctor that it is just as well the latter did not call Max out.

"Though, "continues Bob, shutting one eye and looking quizzical, “you and I may yet have to settle our differences in that way, doctor, and I am practising for it every day." As luck will have it, an hour later Max comes squarely in contact with the lumber-king of Michigan. It is in the public square, and many people are about. Max sees the giant making for him, but does not attempt to elude the other. The sooner this interview is over the better—heroic measures are sometimes necessary. CHAPTER XVI. NEARLY A COMBAT. Jones is evidently no frame of mind to brook further delay; his face is indicative of anger, and yet he manages to curb his passions after the manner of one who all his life has been brought in contact with fire. "Ah! one minute, sir. Come this way,” he says. "Thanks; this spot suits my convenience, Mr. Jones”—quietly. The other glares at him, and then a ghastly smile creeps over his face. "As cool as ever, Henry," he mutters. / “You call me by a name which I do not own,” replies Max, firmly.

“Bah ! tell me my ears are failing me. You’ve made a few changes in your general appearance, but 1 reckon you’re the same old Henry Carlton that I trusted—yes, God forgive me for it”—swallowing a lump that rises in his throat—“even more than my own flesh and blood.” Max hardly knows how to begin, for he realises that he has a difficult task before him. And Jones, towering above him, looks into his face with an expression almost pitiful; he seems to have forgotten all else but his wounded heart.

‘‘Henry,’’ he says, with something of a sob in his voice, "where is s’.'.e—my child ? Give her back to my loving arms, the arms that .carried her from the day her sainted mother was taken away, a.nd I will forgive your .theft of money—yes, I will even stay the hand of outraged justice.’’ "Mr. clones, I would give much to bring your daughter back to you— Heaven is my witness to that; but you are mistaken. I had nothing to do with her flight." "Am I an idiot —a fool ? Why, sir, the next thing I hear you denying will be that you are really not the man who robbed me—not Henry Carlton”—forgetting that Max has already done this. "That is just what I do claim.” “Very well, as you please. On account of your fatal resemblance to that guilty wretch, I am now about to visit upon you the righteous chastisement (rf an insulted and outraged father. If I leave a bone in your body, you may be thankful." There is something awful in the manner of the giant as ho pronounces these words, and a guilty man might well tremble in his shoes. Max Menvin, however, does not give any evidence of being greatly alarmed. He looks the other full in the ©ye, with a bland smile. "Sir, I -have just had an interview with your son,” he says. "With Archibald —and he allowed you to live ! lam surprised, chagrined. I can hardly believe he has so little of'the Jones spirit.” "More than that, sir, we parted as friends—we even shook hands as very good friends. When you See him he will tell you that no one wishes you more success in running down the rascal who robbed you than I.” "This is a huge joke to you, no doubt. You have succeeded in hoodwinking my poor, trusting, and innocent boy, but you will find Ids father has cut his eye-teeth, and is apt to prove a more dilficult task to handle. For the present, young man, I will act the part of your family doctor, to prepare to take 5-our medicine." "One minute more, Jones of Michigan. You have the reputation of being a fair and square man ; don’t do something you will regret all your life, for lam not the man to be thrashed by any living being. Be sure you’re right, then go ahead. As I remember my cousin Henry, he had a scar on his right wrist, a scar shaped like a crescent, which he will carry to the grave. You may have noticed it often ?" “That is so ; I remember it well."

"Examine my wrist; do you see s anything of a scar there? Now look at the other one. You have made a great mistake.* I only wish an opportunity to prove that I am his cousin, Max Carlton Merwin.” "Can it be possible ?” mutters the lumber-king, slowly, his brows wrinkled with deep wonder. "More than this, as a peculiar fate has brought it about, -the man you seek is in Alexandria today.” J ones instantly brightens up, the eager look flashing over his face. • "Young man, you are actually convincing me against my will ; if you keep on I’ll be taking you to my heart yet. But can you'tell me" and his voice trembles again, becoming almost pathetic—"is she with him ?" "1 could not say, but we. can soon find that out, once Mr. Cushman is put on the track." Then he relates the adventure of the preceding night, while the lum-ber-king listens eagerly, for his whole life has been passed amid wild scenes, and he can fully appreciate anything in that line. Naturally he is especially interested in the man called Henry, when he appears on the stage, and after Max has finished his narrative, asks numerous questions concerning him. “I must discover if Diana is with him, or whether, like most rogues, he deserted the poor girl. Heaven be merciful to him, if ever I get my hands on his throat ! I sometimes pray to be kept from such a thing, but he deserves the worst," he says, vehemently. Looking at the giant Congressman from the Michigan backwoods, Max thinks he could easily select a better fate than meeting him, as Henry Carlton must some dark day. On the whole, he was never so well pleased that his name cliances to be what it is. When Jones leaves him, Max turns towards the hotel, glad to have these unpleasant matters over. He stops to gaze upon the scene, that is, as usual, in progress upon the plaza, and by chance, the usual way raises his eyes to the balcony above the main entrance of the hotel, when his attention is attracted by a waving white handkerchief. Two ladies sit there, enjoying the sight and the morning air. Of course they are the Misses Carew, and he sees the impulsive Sally beekon with her fan. j Max, is in no humour to be particular, and he accepts the invitation to join the ladies with just as much alacrity as though it came from Josephine—anything to be near the object of his affection. ,

In a very lew minutes two gentlemen n(ay he seen on the balcony with the ladies, Max hav h:. ; .-aught Bob hovering around below, and eating his heart out with eagerness to see the loquacious divinity he worships. Taken in all, they pass a pleasant morning. Max finds himself interested in the actions of Bob and Miss C'arew, who become so deeply engrossed in what they are saying to each other as to be utterly oblivious of the presence of the others. “It seems to me they are pretty far gone,’’ lie ventures to remark in a low tone, upon seeing Josephine glance in that direction with an amused smile on her face. “It’s an old story with Sally ; she’s a born flirt. I've known her to have four strings to her how, or rather four beaux to her string at the same time,’’ she replies.

“Bless my soul, that fits him to a dot. I have laughed many a time to hear him ranting over the new' flame, each one more adorable than those gone before, which, of course, were mere firtations. Honestly, though, I never saw him act just likq this, and I am inclined to believe he has actually been caught at Inst.” “ The same applies to Sally ; really, this promises to be quite a joke, taken in all,’’ she replies, aside ; but there is little danger of being overheard, since the othei-^ couple are so deeply engrossed in themselves that it w'ould take an alarm of fire to claim their attention, There must be something electrical in this Egyptian air, as it has been famous, for love scenes ever since Mark Anthony and Cleopatra’s time. Something beneath the surface amuses Max. “Miss Carew is an heiress, I know,” he continues, in a low tone, “but my friend cares nothing about that. He is himself wealthy.” “I am sincerely glad to hear that,” Josephine replies, with an ardour that rather surprises him. "They would make a good match,” he remarks. “I always thought Sally would find some one of opposite type—a grave, thoughtful man. Such madcaps generally do, you know ; but they are as much alike in disposition as two peas.” Max might like to put in a word for himself, but his case does not advance with a rush like that of his comrade. Bob is an adept in love, and knows how to carry a girl’s heart by storm. Could he show the same' spirit in war, it would soon win him , renown and a general’s rank. So Max is content to wait.

All seems auspicious, with the exception of a single fact, and he sees a shadow in that. Will Josephine blame him on account of his relationship with the man who acted in such bad faith towards Jones? He can hardly see why she should, and yet, being particularly sensitive, fears trouble on that score. At any rate, they appear jolly enough. Plans are discussed, and, odd as it may seem, they have an idea of doing Europe on pretty much the same lines. It would not be very singular, therefore, if they ran across each other a dozen limes. Bob even boldly suggests the feasibility of their journeying together, and is unhesitatingly seconded by Miss Carew, though from the doubting manner in which the latter looks towards Josephine it is evident that she is much in the habit of being governed by that more staid and sagacious young lady’s advice in such matters. On her part, Josephine declares that, while it might be very pleasant to have the company of good friends and fellow-countrymen, the continuance of such a combination would be apt to cause remark, especially since the ladies are travelling in a strictly independent American way, without a chaperon. They will, of course, be glad to see the gentlemen occasionally, if their lines of travel chance to bring them together ; but that must mark the limit. So the ultimatum is fixed, and Josephine’s opinion carries weight with it.

Immediately three; minds set to work, endeavouring to discover some way of beating round the bush. It is Bob who strikes oil, and his proposition, gravely, though secretly, laid before Miss Carew, is of such a startling nature that it must keep until later on, when in the due sequence of events it may be laid before the reader. All unconscious of the train which Bob and his merry inamorata are laying under their feet, and which sooner or later promises to reach the magazine, Max and Josephine continue to converse, the topic of their dialogue being, as is quite natural, foreign travel; they discuss its pleasures and inconveniences ; what they have seen in China, Australia, and India; and with the enthusiasm that marks pilgrims who really enjoy their journey, they keep up this discussion until the hour for dinner arrives.

It is doubly interesting to find that one whose opinion you respect has laughed at the same odd sights that excited your mirth, and has been deeply engrossed in scenery that aroused your admiration. While dressing for dinner both gentlemen became quite warm in a discussion over the merits of their respective charmers, and then laugh at the ridiculous manner in which they have argued. Bob for once keeps his secret, though his companion readily guesses there is something weighing heavily on his mind—the other would not be so uneasy and flighty unless he had some cause. Mentally, Max concludes that Craig intends to pop the

inoineiUi.’i.s question before another day dawns, and is cudgelling his brains !for suitable language in which to frame the intense emotions of his heart ; Max only wishes his own suit wore in as advanced a state, though not, seeing how he dare be so precipitate. He has seen his comrade madly in love before —many times, if the truth must he told—hut never knew him to act in this manner. Apparently this stamps the affair as one of unusual importance, and declares that the gay butterfly has had his wings singed—he has learned a lesson in love, and will never again trifle with the fires of the consuming passion. Neither of the comrades notice the storm-clouds that hover along the distant horizon. All is apparently smooth sailing ; but suddenly the typhoon will ■ sweep down upon them ; there will be hurried cries, the tearing losse of sails, and lo ! a great change must come o’er the spirit of their dream. Instead of drifting along in the balmy breezes of a quiet sea, their ship will he rushing madly before the gale, while all around them the howling and crashing of wind ana thunder betokens the violence of the disturbance into which they have passed. Coming events cast their shadows before, as a general thing, though often we fail to understand the meaning of the messengers sent in warning. So in the present instance ; for Max, having an uneasy feeling, simply wonders whether ho has partaken of any particular dish concocted after Eastern culinary methods, that has not quate agreed with his digestion. Be that as it may, there is certainly one who sees nothing to warn him. of future trouble. This is Bob Craig, who cannot sit still for a minute, but walks up and down, consults his watch a dozen times, and answers all questions in a vague way that amuses Max. "The sooner he is cured of this new freak, one way or the other, the better for him,” he mutters, hardly knowing how to take this new element that has arisen in the character of Craig. Then they descend to dinner, CHAPTER XVII. JONES AT THE CONFESSIONAL. That passage down the stairs of the Peninsula and Oriental marks a turning-point in their life history —an epoch, Whore the lines are distinctly drawn with regard to what lies behind and the coming events of the near future. From this hour once scene of dramatic flavour will follow another with the rapidity that marks their shifting upon the stage of a modern, well-regulated playhouse, until in the grand climax our pilgrim comrades of the Nile reach their destined haven.

And so they are blind to what hangs over their heads as they gaily descend to the French dinner of the Alexandria caravansary. The first person Max Merwin meets when he has descended the stairs is Mr. Cushman, and the gentleman from Kalamazii has apparently been looking for him, to judge from the smile upon his face as he intercepts Max. ‘T have seen him !” he says, mysteriously. “You mean my cousin Henry ?” “Yes. Jones told me all about it, and I set out to learn the truth. You understand that, after all, the money he lost does not concern him one quarter as much as his daughter’s fate.” “He said as much to me.” “I had little trouble in unearthing Henry. He is still at the house of the fountain, where we had our adventure last night. Von Phul has recovered, and is occupying his time cursing the ill-luck that has followed his fortunes of late, and endeavouring to form some plan whereby he may retrieve them.” “He will be a wise man if he goes upon some other tack, and leaves Miss Carew alone.” “Probably so ; but these fellows seldom follow the track of wisdom. There's something of the bulldog in his disposition.' He doesn't like to let go once he has taken hold. We may have more trouble with him yet, although- I believe we are able to hold our own. "I was and am still deeply interested in that man. You saw me take papers from his person; they were of importance, and it was partly on account of their contents that I allowed him to go free, when I might have had him arrested. “At present, however, my interest is almost wholly devoted to Henry. Gaining entrance to the house, I watched my chance, and finding him alone, I suddenly appeared before him.

‘‘Henry w"as alarmed, for his guilt makes him nervous, you know. I talked with him in a way that opened his eyes, but found him very dogged. He knew that in Egypt he was safe from the laws of America, as no international agreement could send him back to pay the penalty ifor his crimes. As to being afraid of Jones, he admitted that he was a desperate man, ready to use a pistol upon the least provocation ; and I believe him. “The fellow is keeping something back. I could see it in his eyes when he spoke of Diana. , Perhaps she is his wife, and he is ready to turn upon his father-in-law with this fact. It may tie there is something still deeper beneath the surface. That shall be my especial business to learn.” Max is deeply interested. ' "Do you think she is in Alexandria ?” he asks. Mr. Cushman shuts one eye reflectively.

I •‘There’s the strange part ■ it. You may not know that i carry portraits of both Diana and Henry; see, here they are. It was your resemblance, for one thing, that causae me- to believe I had found my man on board the Pekin. T ; "y in, I knew that after his flic a ada Henry sailed under the ./ Max Merwin.” “Indeed ! the assurance of the man 1 If he had to assume a name in order to cover his sins, there were plenty to pick from without taking mine,” remarks Max, indignantly, although he has, of cour*c, had some idea of this fact before. “I reckon he owes you some grudge, and this was his mean way of settling it. Here are the pictures—you see his counterfeit resemblance might easily fit yon.” “What you say is true, sir.” “Now, as to Diana” “Jupiter !” “Ah ! what ails .you, Mr. 'Merwin ?” —with q peculia" smile, that comes in little gurgles from the shoes on bis feet—at least his chuckle would make one believe his system was completely permeated with the .sound. “Sir, it - strikes me I have seen that face before.’' “Did you over meet Mins .lone?-?” “Never.” “She doesn’t resemble her brot her, the do fl.or, a particle VV “Not an iota ; y i would never knoa thay were related. (:> judge from this excellent portrait.” “Well waiting, for UNs sees by the other’s compressed brows that he is puzzling it out. “Mr. Cushman, there is a young lady in Alexandria the image of that picture,” The stout tourist nods. “She is at the Hotel do I’Europo.” “You are working it out.’ 1 ' “But her name is not Jones.” “Exactly.” “If I was rightly informed, she is the daughter of an English lady named Stanhope.” “Singular, isn’t it ?” “Of course, then, this resemblance .must be merely accidental.” “I see you have it all arranged,” “Under the circumstances, I hope you will not mention the matter to Jones of Michigan, since it may do no good, and be productive of harm.” “Hold on, Mr. Merwin. That concerns quite another point. I shall say nothing to him until I am sure; but singular though you may think it, I am almost positive that the young woman known as Miss Stanhope is no other than Diana Jon*s.” “That would be a strange- thing indeed.” I

“Of course I m«-an to discover the matter—whet her presence in Alexandria may have to do with his being here;” Then Mr. Cushman shuts one eye reflectively, and adds : “The great and moral drama draws near a close. Let me utter words of prophecy, my dear boy. There is a grand tableau, with all the characters on the stage, as usual. Ofr one side I see your friend and Miss Carew —under the bridal-bell, if you please. At the other -wing stands another couple, nameless. The doctor is making love to Sally in vain. Then n übiquitous individual named Cushman, is discovered, sitting upon the prostrate form of the schemer, Von Phul ; while Jones of Michigan, holding his daughter with one arm, uses the other to\shake the wretched Henry until his teeth rattle in his head like castanets.” Max laughs at the startling picture. “Bravo! beautifully arranged ; if it will only come out in something like that order, w« may nil be satisfied. I presume you don't mean to let the grass grow u«id*r your feet with regard to finding out Why Miss Q tanhope is the image of that photograph?” “I’m bound for the other hotel this hour. Depend upon it, there's a mystery behind it all.” 1499, (To be Continued.)