THE DUKE OF ARCANUM

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXI, Issue XIII, 24 September 1898, Page 307

THE DUKE OF ARCANUM

&Y

CARLETON LONG

CHAPTER XIX (continued). By accidently overhearing conversations Chloe had learned the whole story nt the murder. She had heard Pintard and Vitellius discussing it in Fi end- when they did not susp- -t that a human being was within earshot. She had heard remarks passed between Pintard and Madame Renaud which, although made in a Blind and misleading manner, were perfectly :r.tdlicible to her. She had become familiar with the police records through hearing them discussed by the habitues of the place. She knew that Edgcumb was languishing in prison, charged with the murder of Mancel Tewkes; but she loved Coulter then, and she would have sacrificed herself to protect him. It was with the knowledge of all this that she sought Imogen in the guise of a necromancer. Her intense jealousy instigated her to such a course in order to prevent an intrigue with her lover. When the trial eame on, and she was asked by Coulter to disguise herself, and appear as a witness, she knew what it meant and she readilyconsented. It was not for Madame Renaud's sake, but for Coulter’s, for she knew his connection with that affair. After the trial Coulter’s neglect began. He avoided her more and more, until a year after the fire it culminated in the scene above described.

After the fire Chloe went with Madame Renaud to her new quarters: but in the general upheaval of things following that dire calamity, Coulter lost sight of her for many weeks. He earnestly hoped that she had disappeared, like hundreds of her class who. having been driven out by the fire, had sought other towns and cities where the conditions of such a life were more promising. But just as he thought himself well rid of her the siren suddenly rapperl at his door one evening, and his hopes were speedilydissolved. While walking upon the street, closely veiled, she had encountered him. It was an easy matter to follow him and ascertain his lodgingplace, then present herself at an opportune moment.Coulter received her coldly. The life she had led had not entirely dulled her sensitive nature, and she felt hurt at his aversion. She did not betray her feelings, however, but endeavoured for some time to win him back by her smiles and caresses, but she could not move him from his indifference. Then, in a fit of distraction, she threw herself upon the floor, and endeavoured to move him with her tears from his contumacy. But coolly taking a cigar from his pocket he lighted it and puffed away unconcernedly while she pouted. He did not treat her harshly then, nor tell her to leave. It was simply an attempt to freeze her out by indifference. He thought she would soon go of her own accord ami never trouble him more. But Chloe was stubborn and he was obliged to yield. Then he saw her at intervals during the next few months, but at every meeting his offensiveness increased. Then he avoided her entirely. This was not to be endured, and Chloe was resolved to bring him to terms with the aceusa-

tion of murder. The result has been seen.

Coulter's manner toward Chloe was at once perceptibly changed. The secret, which she possessed inspired him with a wholesome dread of her for awhile. She did not press her advantage by making inordinate demands upon him; neither did she attempt to display a spirit of ascendency. She was contented; she had disenthralled herself from her wretched mode of life at Madame Renaud’s. She really wished to lead a better one, and this might be a beginning, though a poor one.

A room was furnished and the mistress installed. Coulter was assiduous in his attentions, and came frequently to see her. One evening, during one of his visits, he remarked, ‘Chloe, you are a great enigma to me; do you know it?’ ‘No; am I, indeed?’ she asked smilingly. ‘Yes; you are a great mystery to me. I have known you three years, and yet 1 am convinced that I do not know you at all.’ Chloe burst into a merry peal of laughter. ‘What, would you like to know, my dear?’ she asked. T should like to know who you are and where you came from. I don’t understand why you have always kept it from me.’ ‘Why', I am Chloe, of course, and'— ‘And as great a mystery as the ‘Man in the Iron Mask.’ Coulter added, interrupting her. ‘Or the “room-mate of James Kye,”’ suggested Chloe, with a sly wink. ‘Ha, ha! Very well put.’ said Coulter. returning the significant glance; ‘but are you never going to tell me anything of yourself.’ ‘Jack, 1 have only one name now. and that is Chloe. It- was adopted in a baptism of shame when 1 left my father's roof and met you. I am determined never to utter my father's name with these unchaste lips. No; you may call it a freak or a foolish whim, but I have that reverence for him and the love which he gave me never to pronounce his name again.' ‘Never is a long time, you know.’

‘Never, while this state of concubinage exists, at any rate. When I have become transformed into a lawful wife, or have become a reformed and honest woman, then I shall seek my father, ask his forgiveness, and with clean lips I shall not be ashamed to pronounce his name.' Ridiculous! Nonsensical! You reform! I've seen old whiskybloats try to reform; but let them stick their noses to the bunghole of a. cask and all their good resolutions vanish like a fog in the sunshine. You would be equally as tickle. The first good-look-ing chap that came along, with a glossy tile, a checkered suit, and a diamond stud, you would succumb. It's born in the flesh, Chloe.’ ‘A woman would not obtain much encouragement to reform from you. I know,’ Chloe answered, with a tinge of sarcasm. ‘Why, you ungrateful minx, didn't I lift you out of the mire of prostitution at “French Anne’s,'' and give you a place here?' •’lt was not a voluntary or philau-

thropieal act, by any means, on your part. But let us drop the subject before we fall into another quarrel.' ‘Very well, on condition that you tell me who you are and where you came from.’ ‘I have told you my name a great many times.’ ‘Well, who were you then?' ’The past must be buried.* 'Then tell me where you came from.’ ’From the far East, the far, far East: that is all I can tell you. Now, Jack, don't quiz me any more. Be good and not question me further,' and Chloe patted him, coaxingly, on the shoulder. ‘Well. 1 don't see that it is of much use; 1 am never the wiser for it.’ ‘And you never shall be. rest assured of it. Jack.' 'But I shall always think there is some deep mystery connected with your life.' ‘Think anything, my boy, only do not question me about it. Talk about anything that will interest you more —Jarmyn, for instance.’ Coulter seemed to start at the mention of the detective’s name, but instantly recovering himself asked, nonchalantly: ‘What the devil do 1 care about Jarmyn?'

‘I don't think myself that, you care for a very close acquaintance with him.’ ‘You had something to say about him the night of our unpleasantness; but I thought it was merely a contrivance to keep me away from the Madame's.’ ’The Madame says he has been watching the house.’ ‘Well, he may be looking for Pinta rd.’ ‘For Pintard, Vitellius and'— ‘And who?’ ‘And Coulter.’ ‘Humph! You seem to know al! about it. Take care that he don’t get hold of you. Would you hold your tongue if he did?’ ‘Have no fear of me. Jack, as long as you treat me decently. But, do you know, I think he was shadowing me, too; and. to tell you the truth, that was one of my reasons for leaving the house. I am afraid of him. Could they do anything with me for testifying in that case?’ ‘Why. certainly; they would hang vou, if they should discover it.’

Chloe shuddered and looked frightened. ‘Hang me? 1 don’t see what 1 have done.’ ‘You were a conspirator, as much as Madame Renaud. Pintard and Vitellius.’ ‘You always forget to mention yourself, don't you?’ ‘But you never forget to remind me of it , do you?’ ‘How was I a conspirator? Pray tell.' ‘Didn't you perjure yourself to help convict Edgcumb? Why. they could easily make it appear to a jury that you Were in the plot to murder Tewkes, or that you were privy to the matter. The very fact alone that you committed perjury would convict you of being an accessory; so I think you have quite as much to dread from me as I have from you.' ‘You are only trying to frighten me. Jack. I sacrificed my long hair and went there to please you. and now you would be ungrateful enough to see me gibbeted.' ‘No. I don't want you to meet such a fate, but I am telling you these things to show you the necessity of keeping a close mouth. You are as deep in the mire as any one. Keep out of Jannyn’s way, and never let him ply you with questions, and especially with none concerning me.’ Coulter arose and took his hat. 'What, am I to lie left alone again to-night?’ Chloe inquired, upon observing his intentions. ‘Yes; I can't remain longer with you to-night. I have a game on hand, and I want to make n. good winning, if I have to sit up all night to do it. 1 will see you again soon. Look out for Jarmyn. Au revoir.’ Coulter was out and away before Chloe could return even a commonplace ‘good-night.’ After a few minutes of musing she took up a book and tried to read, but she could not concentrate her thoughts, for the conversation in regard to the murder kept running in her head. She really felt alarmed nt Coulter's assertion

so much so that she closed the l>ook and fell into a train of reflections. ’What a fool I was to do that for him; lie does not love me for it, He only provides for me. and comes here

from necessity. I never once thought of the consequences of my false evidence. if discovered. Jack asked me to give it and 1 did. simply because I loved him—for no other reason. But that is the way with a man. He will make a tool of a confiding woman, and. when he can use her no longer, throw her overboard. And still the silly fools will confide in them. What a dupe I have been, and how he chuckles in his sleeve to think of it! Good gracious, 1 wonder if they could hang me if they discovered my perjury! They would surely say that" I knew all about the murder, because 1 swore falsely, and impersonated a mythical character. And what if they should find Kye. and bring him before me, and ask him if he recognised his ancient room-mate? Oh, dear, I wonder what, has become of him! But, let me think: 1 remember Jack told me when 1 went to court not to be afraid, that Kye would never trouble me. I wonder if they killed him. too. 1 shall not sleep a wink to-night. I'm so nervous.’

Chloe was interrupted in her musings by a sudden rap at the door. 'There. Jack has returned for some reason or other.’ With book in hand she stepped forword and opened the door slightly, when a faee was thrust in. and a voice said, in a low tone: ‘Hi, hi. Chloe, ye thar?’ ‘Why, Pintard, is that you?’ • 'Yes. it’s me, Chloe; lemme come in,’ and he pushed the door opened as he spoke and entered. ‘l’ve been layin’ low till Coulter got away. He won’t come back and find me with his gal, will he?' ‘No; he won’t be back for a little while—probably an hour. But how in the world did you know 1 was here?’ T seed ye on the street the other day and I fullered ye.’ ‘Did you know 1 bad left ‘French Anne’s?* •Qui Mam’selle.’ ‘Dai Mam’selle.’ ‘Who told you?’ ‘La Madame.' ‘Why, you don’t dare to go to the house, do you ?’ ‘No; but she knows where to seek me.’ Chloe then spoke to him in French, and Pintard sat down in a ehair. ‘What brings you here. Pintard?’ ’Business. Mam'sell, business.’ ‘Business with me? What can it be? You are the last person on earth I expected to see. Is it something from the Madame?’ ‘No; its a scheme of mine. Can I '[>end on ye, Mam'sell?’ ‘Well. I can’t say until I have heard what it is.’

‘Will ye keep it to yourself if it don't fit yer notion?’ ‘Of course. Pintard. you can rely on me for that; you ought to know that well enough without asking.’ ‘Her ye got any wine here, .\lain‘sell? I think I could talk better if I had a bit to wet me tongue.' It flashed upon Chloe’s mind that it might be well to limber up his tongue, and that, perhaps, a little wine would assist in the matter, so she replied: ‘Yes: I have a bottle of St. Julien in the closet which Jack brought up the other night. 1 will get it,' and bringing it forth she placed it. on the table with a couple of glasses. ‘Chloe, yer a poor drinker fur one of Madame Renaud’s gals,' said Pintard. holding the well-filled bottle up to the light to size its contents. ‘Come, take a sip.’ Chloe permitted Pintard to serve her. After indulging himself in a portion of the wine the cheer became quite perceptible, and with a confidential air he commenced: ‘Chloe, ye hev no love fur that man who just Vent out, hev ye?’ ‘Do you mean Coulter?’ ‘Yes; that infernal dog. Coulter.' ‘Why, Pintard, what do you mean by calling him such a name?' Pintard took another sip of wine before answering. ‘Wai, I’ve got good reasons fur it. I know more about him than ye does.' ‘I don’t know why you should; 1 have known him longer than you have.’ ‘Well, do ye know any good of him? Why. Chloe, he'd ent yer throat in a minute if he wanted to get rid of ye and couldn't do it any other way.' Chloe was silent; sin- thought there might be considerable truth in the assertion. Pintard watched her closely over the edge of his glass, as he held it to his lips.

‘What makes you think so?* at length demanded Chloe. ‘l’m not giving ye any wild talk, Chloe; I know he’d do it. I’ve seen what he’s done to others more innocent than ye are, by a long sight.’ ‘What has he done, Pintard? Tell me all about it. Was it a woman scrape?’ ‘No; ’tweren’t a woman scrape at all. In that case he might have been excused, fur when a feller’s got a gal and he can’t get rid of her, he's either got to run away or smash her.’ ‘What was it then? Come, fill up your glass again and tell me.’ ‘Yer mighty liberal, Chloe. I’ll fill it up, but I ain’t goin’ to tell ye till I know’ how ye stand with him. There’s a good chance to get a whack at him if ye wanter.’ ‘Well, Pintard, I don’t love him as I onee did, to tell you the truth.' ‘ls he keepin’ ye here?’ ‘Yes; but he wouldn’t if he didn’t have to.’ ‘Ye’ve got suthin’ on him, hev ye? Wai, I hope ye’ll stick it to him till ye bust him.’ ‘Well, now that you know my sentiments w’hat have you to say?’ Pintard drained the contents of his glass, replenished it, and commenced: ‘Chloe, ye know Coulter’s got a pretty good job, don’t ye?’ Chloe nodded assent. ‘And he makes lots of money gamblin’ fin’ speculatin’, don’t he?’ ‘I presume so,’ said Chloe, ‘he always seems to have plenty about him; but you are not planning to rob him?’ ‘No; not exactly, though I’d just as soon put a jimmy under his winder as any one I know’ of. Hev ye any means of findin’ out what he’s got?’ ‘You mean what he is worth?’ ‘Exactly, Mam’sell, that’s what I mean.’

‘No; I can’t find out; he keeps every thing to himself; he never tells me anything.’ ‘He’s pretty shrewd, but I think we’re a match fur him. Now Chloe, my scheme is just this. I know suthin on him that w’ould send him up fur life, an’ I’ll tell ye what it is, providin’ ye’ll put him on the rack and go me halves; what d’ye say to it?’

Chloe sat in a musing way for some minutes without venturing a reply. She was considering the advisability of having anything to do with such a desperate character as she knew Pintard to be; but still she was curious to find out what he knew against Coulter Naturally enough, she thought of the Mancel Tewkes affair, but Pintard was as deeply concerned In that as he. ‘I will wait a little while,’ she thought, ‘perhaps I can get it out of him without making any promises.’ Pintard had become so occupied with his cup that he scarcely noticed Chloe’s silence. Draining it, and placing it before him on the table, he leaned back in his chair, whereupon Chloe, reaching over, seized the bottle, exclaiming: ‘Why, Pintard, you are no drinker; why don’t you fill it up?’ and pouring the remainder into his glass she pushed it toward him. Pintard was now becoming quite mellow from the wine, and Chloe surmised that one more glass would have the desired effect.

Taking the glass in his hand Pintard held it up, while the broad grin which animated his features, and the glitter of his eyes, told of the happy effect of his indulgence. ‘Chloe, here’s to the new scheme’ ‘Well, you ought to have drunk to that, with the first and not have waited till the last,’ said Chloe, affecting a jolly manner. ‘Wai, darn it, that’s what’s the matter —but—wal, I hadn’t got the thing started yet; ye commenced on me so quick, ye know.’ ‘All right, Pintard, go ahead.’ ‘But ain’t ye goin’ to drink with me ?’ ‘Yes, certainly,’ and Chloe lifted the glass from which she had but slightly partaken, and held it up for Pintard to touch. As the glasses jingled together, she burst forth into a merry Bacchanalian song, as follows: Come, tip your Klasses, boys and wed Your spirits to the wine cup’s red; For there is joy and life anew, tn every sparkling drop for you. Come, drink and drain. And till again; Drink and be merry of the precious Maderia, For wine is a solace to pain. I*et care go out and joy come In; ■TIs time for revels to begin; With wln< i and song, and dance, astir. Wh would not be a reveller?

Come, drink and drain. And till again; Drink and be merry Of the precious Maderia, For wine is a solace to pain. Pintard held the glass motionless to his lips until Chloe hud finished, then both quaffed together. ‘Chloe, I alters liked that song. I used to hear you sing it at the Madame's. Them was jolly times, weren’t they —before the fire.’ ‘Yes; aatd Jack used to set up the wine often for us then.’ ‘But he had an object in doin’ it though. That fellar’s got a cunning head. He don’t do anything without a purpose, mind ye.’ ‘Why, what purpose could he have had, other than to have a good time?’ ‘Oh, he wanted a little job done, ye see. It was a kinder nasty one and he didn't want to do it hisself. He made us think there was big money in it, but we got nothin’ out of it.’ ‘Then you did it for him, did you?’ Although Pintard’s mind did not now possess its normal perspicacity, still he seemed to see that he had made a mistake, and he attempted to correct himself. ‘Wal, I mean —I was goin’ to say —ye see — that Coulter wanted us to do that job, but we couldn’t see any money in it.’ ‘Oh, that’s it,’ said Chloe indifferently. ‘I didn’t know but that was what you were going to tell me in reference to your scheme. ‘No; it’s suthin’ else that happened about the time I was jugged. Ye see, Chloe, I told ye that Coulter ’ud do anything when he gets in a pinch. Wal, ye see there was a fellar that stood in his way, and’— ‘Was it Mancel Tewkes?’

‘No; it wasn’t him, but how did ye know anything about Mancel Tewkes?’ ‘Why, Pintard, don’t you remember that when they tried Edgcumb for the murder of Mancel Tewkes, that Coulter asked me to cut off my hair disguise myself as a man, and go and testify that I was somebody’s roommate.’ ‘Yes; James Kye, that’s the fellar I'm gettin’ at.’ ‘Yes; James Kye: that was his name. I thought it was strange at the time that Coulter had anything to do with it, and that is why I asked just now if it was Mancel Tewkes who stood in his way.’ ‘No, no; Maneel Tewkes was the man we ’— Pintard stopped short again, seeing that he was near compromising himself; and Chloe, to relieve him of his embarrassment, feigned not to understand him, saying: ‘Yes, yes; you mean that Maneel Tewkes was the man Edgcumb killed. I understand you, sro ahead. What, about Kye? You say he stood in Coulters way.’ ‘Yes, Chloe, yer head’s elearer’n mine. Ye ain’t drunk so much wine, ye know. Well, Kye stood in his way, or he was afraid he might give, him some trouble, so one night he and Vitellius drove to his room and took him off.’ ‘You mean abducted him.’ Wes, that’s what they call it, 1 b’lieve. They chloroformed him; then they brought him to “French Anne’s,” an’ put him in the tunnel under the house, where they kept him chained for a long time. When the fire came Vitellius was away. The Madame wanted to get rid of Kye by poison long before, but Coulter kept her from it. Then when she had so good a chance she left him to his fate, an’ the fire burned ’im up.’

‘My God, did Jack Coulter do that? That accounts for the strange noises 1 used to sometimes hear when I went into the little room where you all disappeared so suddenly one night when the police raided the house.’ There was a. look of horror in Chloe’s face as she spoke. The thought of having lived so long in a house underneath which a human being was imprisoned in a horrible dungeon -the thought of the fire coming upon them, and their rushing away, leaving the man to such a fate—was horrible to her in the extreme. Pintard ha<J become too much confused by the wine by this time to notice her agitation, and placing his arms upon the table <lrop|H-d his head forward upon them, and in a moment was fast asleep. CHAPTER XX. THE DUKE OF ARCANUM. Early in the spring of 1873 the Board of Trade and financial circles of Chicago evinced considerable interest in a mysterious individual who had recently arrived and plunged into

speculations of uncommon magnitude in grain. He had presented large drafts upon different banks, which had been duly honoured. It being inferred from this that he was a man of vast wealth and resources, his movements were watched with unusual interest. No one, however, seemed to know who he was or whence he came. His general appearance and the fashion of his garments were decidedly English. There were some who declared that he was an English nobleman, sojourning incognito for a short time; while others, who had passed a few words with him, asserted that the voice, language and manners of the stranger were those of an American. His manner was so reserved, and his bearing so dignified, that none felt that he could be approached upon terms of sufficient intimacy to enable one to learn anything in regard to his history’ or antecedents. His magnificent equipage, drawn by a pair of cream-coloured horses — creatures of remarkable limb and beauty—was the marvel of all as they dashed through the streets,* and their origin was as mysterious as their owner. At a regular hour every morning the carriage drew up before the entrance to the Chamber of Commerce; the stranger alighted and walked up the stairs into the exchange •

where he was seen to watch the course of the markets for a few moments, study the. columns of statistics which were posted on the bulletin boards, open cable dispatches which were usually awaiting him. talk confidentially but briefly with his brokers, and then retire from the chamber as quietly’ as he had entered. The stranger was known to be in telegraphic correspondence with the Marquis of Follansbee, of London, and, as the Marquis was renowned for his speculative ventures, it was surmised that there was an understanding between them to operate in the grain market upon a large scale. He seemed at once, without any effort, to unconsciously obtain great prestige, while his name and intentions inspired the keenest interest and occasioned the liveliest gossip upon the floor of the exchange. Jasper Morton had, in due course of time, obtained his letters-patent, made the necessary assignment to the Marquis of Follansbee, received the hundred thousand pound's, and, with bills of exchange on New York, sailed from Liverpool for America. He had determined to go on to Chicago and enter that city with a boldness which would disarm suspicion. His sojourn of a year and a half abroad had wrought a. wonderful change in him. It would, indeed, have been a difficult matter to have recognised in Jasper Morton, when he returned to the earlier scenes of his career, the Stanley Edgcumb who had escaped the clutches of the law in such a miraculous way. The smooth face of other days was now covered with a thick growth of beard, while the upper portion was covered with sears, which evidenced the ravages ot small-pox. His manner had undergone a great change also. The weight of troubles which had oppressed him so long and the reticence which he found it necessary to maintain had sobmed his character, so that the amiable, light-hearted disposition of former days had given place to iey reserve and unapproachable hauteur and dignity. His travel abroad and his associations with people of culture and refinement had given him a polish and elegance of manners, while his affluence tended to give him assurance, thus rendering impossible a recognition of his former self in the man of ’73.

Morton fully’ appreciated the danger in returning to his old haunts, but there was a. combination of circumstances which he felt would carry him safely through. Chicago was too busily occupied with her rejuvenescence to remember the jx>or telegrapher who had been convicted of murder, even if she did not think him dead. The fire also had wrought mighty changes. New faces had appeared, and old ones disap[>ea.red. Old Chicago was no more; and Morton thought that amidst the busy scenes of the new city, in his metamorphosis from a. threadbare prisoner to a man of opulence, that none would attempt to trace a resemblance between them, and that lie would lie altogether free, from suspicion. The very boldness of the act and the display of wealth in a. judicious manner, together with a reserve and dignity which would

repel the inquisitive,- he felt assured would afford him ample opportunities to carry out his plans. He feared but one man —Jarmyn. He knew the eraft and cunning of the detective, but still hoped to also mislead him. First in his thoughts were Imogen and the children; and foremost among the objects which prompted his return was the discovery’ of their whereabouts and the purpose to make them comfortable. He longed to see them and tell them of his success. Life without them, even with wealth at his command, was deprived of its greatest blessing; and life without the knowledge of their whereabouts, whether living or dead, was simply unbearable. He had returned to learn all at whatever cost or sacrifice to himself. It will be remembered at the time of his escape Edgcumb had charged himself with the performance of a double mission—the completion of his invention a.nd the conviction of Coulter. When he had taken upon himself this mission, he was a refugee, hiding in out-of-the-way places, hungry and penniless, save the few dollars which were given him by the kindhearted brewer. Then it seemed an insuperable task, and nothing could have looked more dismal than the future. But a series of circumstances had since enabled him to accomplish one part of his mission, and it was to perform the other that he found to lie an equally’ strong inducement to return. He could not rest in disgrace. The world might never know that he was Stanley Edgcumb. He might perhaps live out the full measure of his days under the deception; but still there was the consciousness of deception and a sting to his pride at being deprived of that which was rightfully his—a fair name. No; he was determined to make every effort and to use every means to restore honour to his family and himself by delivering the true murderer into the hands of justice. He well understood the advantages which a position of respect in the community would afford in the work to which he had consecrated himself. Hampered by suspicion he could accomplish nothing, and he fully realised that only by a bold stroke could he place himself above its level where success would attend his efforts. Morton could have chosen no better field for his operations than the speculative, which Chicago offered at this time, for it was upon the eve of development into one of the greatest speculative centres in the world. He shrewdly discerned the opportunities and probabilities, the environments and developments which were slowly but surely working in that direction. There was need of a powerful and daring hand to shape .the plastic and venturesome spirit of the West—a spirit which the war had largelv engendered'; and he felt that he was the man for the emergency. Actuated by these views, he entered into a serie's of operations in the market, which resulted so successfully that he became at onee the lion of the hour, and was followed with the keenest interest wherever he went.

The speculation as to who the mysterious stranger really was, which had been rife since his first appearance, soon became greatly intensified. The man was so exclusive in his manner, so noble in his bearing, so secret in his methods, and so mysterious in all, that he was dubbed with the sobriquet of the ‘Duke of Arcanum,’ and by this title was invariably known thereafter. Morton seemed to have a predilection for his occupation, for he conducted his deals so skilfully’ and secretly that he baffled the wisest heads in their efforts to forecast his intentions. There was a train of followers ever on the qui vive to gain some information of his transactions in order to turn it to their own account; but he was so fertile in devices for confusing them that he managed to keep them in a constant state of dubitation as to his real intentions. Everything about the mam and his methods had an air of mystery so deep and unfathomable that his person became, invested with a sort of romantic interest and elm rm. In the course of six months Morton had added a million more to his fortune. Aliout this time he purchased a magnificent mansion on one of the South Side avenues and furnished it luxuriously. Immediately there was a flutter in society, whose devotees supposed that they’ were about to obtain a glimpse of the inner life of this

remarkable man. Up to this time none had been able to say whether the ‘Duke of Arcanum’ had come to stay permanently or not. The popular idea still prevailed that he belonged to the English nobility, and it was expected that with the purchase of a costly mansion he would cut a dash in society. But to their chagrin it was seen that, like a royal reeluse, he occupied his mansion alone with his servants. However, Morton was not so obdurate after all. Indeed, he was willing that the social world should satisfy its curiosity to a certain extent. It might inspect the house, but not the master. It might pry into his cabinets and galleries, but not into his personal antecedents. But there were preparations to be made which required time, such as interior decorations, marvellous collections of art, etc., before even this simple phase of his inner life could be submitted to public inspection. Curiosity was still at its maximum height when it was suddenly announced that the ‘Duke of Arcanum’ was about to give a reception. It was an absorbing topic of conversation in society, for people felt, assured that it would" be a grand affair. As is always the case with regard to the mysterious, there was a strange fascination about it all and an ineluctable desire to meet- at his own hearthstone the man about whom so many strange fancies had been woven. People knew him at best through his carriage window or upon the bourse. He had no intimate relations with anyone. Some there were who obtained a distant bow of recognition, but few even that.

The invitations, which were soon forthcoming, were of the most exclusive character, reaching only those of undoubted social prominence. There was one exception, however; one unpretentious home which was honoured with an invitation from the hands of a special messenger sent by the ‘Duke of Arcanum.’ It was unmistakably genuine, for Humphrey Davids and his wife both peeped through the blinds and saw the messenger depart in the magnificent equipage drawn by the beautiful creams which was a familiar object in the South Division. It surpassed the understanding of the lawyer and his wife to receive such distinction at the hands of Jasper Morton, for they’ had never cut any figure in society. The lines with which opulence so closely encircles the aristocracy had, of course, excluded them, and they had moved on a humbler plane of life. Both thought it inexplicable, but when the lawyer read the contents of an autograph letter from Jasper Morton, which the messenger had delivered, their surprise knew no bounds, for it ran as follows: Humphrey Davids, Esq. Sir, —You will see by the accompanying invitation that I am about to give a reception at my residence on the evening of the second of November next. Being a man without marital relations I have, consequently no one to do the honours of the occasion. I have been prompted by the suggestion of one who has your welfare at heart to invite your estimable lady’ to assume the responsibility of hostess on that occasion, and I sincerely’ hope that she will kindly consent.

Being a stranger to you both, it may seem unwarrantable in addressing you upon such a matter; but I beg that you will consider the circumstances of the case; that I am comparatively among strangers; that I am desirous of selecting one who will act with becoming grace; and that your lady has been chosen among all others by’ a well-wisher, and the selection not only approved, but the acceptance urgently requested by myself. You may think that the expense involved in preparation may be burdensome, I understand the situation fully, and desiring to bear such expense, 1 enclose a cheque for her use. Have no hesitation whatever in accepting it, as it is a matter between ourselves. of which the world shall have no knowledge. In case of her acceptance my carriage will be sent for you early in the evening of the day. 1 greatly’ dejsirei that these arrangements be kept between ourselves until the evening designated. Hoping that I shall not be disappointed. and tendering my kindest wishes, I remain, respectfully. JASPER MORTON. Chicago, Oct. 20, 1873.

Humphrey Davids and his wife were still more astonished upon seeing the

tienomination of the cheque inclosed — ten thousand dollars.

They did not know what to think of it. They had heard and read much in the papers concerning Jasper Morton, or the ‘Duke of Arcanum,' as he was popularly called. They had seen his princely equipage pass and had been told that its occupant was the mysterious man of the bourse. They had heard and read a great deal of gossip concerning his palatial home, also the announcement of his reception. But they looked upon it as a matter of more interest to the gilded butterflies of fashion than to themselves; it being so far above their pretensions. Such events had more interest for Madam Davids than for her husband. She had a feminine weakness for them, and it enraptured her to think how grand it must, be to soar in such an exclusive atmosphere. She was ambitious, full of pride and yearning, and it can readily lie imagined how her heart leaped for joy as she saw the contents of Jasper Morton’s message to her husband. ‘Well, well!’ exclaimed the lawyer, looking at his wife with a puzzled air, ‘That man has a title which suits him precisely.’ ‘Do you mean the “Duke of Arcanum?” Why- so?’ asked his wife. ‘Yes, certainly. Areanum means that which is secret, hidden, or mysterious. The Duke of Mystery! What, could be more mysterious than this?’

‘Why, husband. I thought that he was a real duke, and that that was his lawful title.’ •The “Duke of Arcanum” is only a sobriquet. He may belong to the English peerage for all that. There are. many who assert that- he does. But I eannot understand why he should have selected you. when we are not. conspicuous in society.’ ‘But. perhaps he wishes to make us so. You have a kind friend somewhere who has suggested it to him. Y'ou may depend upon it, there is something of the kind or how would he ever have known anything of us?’ ‘I think you are right. There is some oecult meaning which may be made clear to us sometime, but it surely’ is not now’. I suppose it will be a royal affair, attended by all the wealth and fashion of the city. What do you think of it?’ ‘Why, Humphrey, I think it is the greatest, piece of good fortune we couild ever have had. It will make us conspicuous. It will give us a position sueh as we never could have hoped to attain. It will draw attention to me as a. society- lady and to you as a professional man. People will begin to think that you are a great lawyer and will patronise you.’ ‘But our income is not sufficient to maintain such a place in the social world. Our house is not fine or suitably’ furnished.’ ‘Ah, true, but, husband, the “Duke of Arcanum” has been wise enough to foresee all this. With the cheque which he has sent us I can buy a costume for the reception, a family carriage and also refurnish our house —the hall and parlours, especially—in a sumptuous style. Then, I think that very’ soon you will have a large clientage among wealthy people, and you know they expect to pay large fees. I think it well to cultivate the acquaintance of such men as Jasper Morton.’

‘But my good wife, I am afraid you are rather visionary. I fear it will not all turn out as rosy as you would have it.’ ‘Well, we can try it, and if your hopes are not realised, we can drop back to our present station without suffering any’ humiliation.’ ‘Then you wish me to write to Mr Morton and tell him that you will accept his invitation?’ ‘Yes, Humphrey, and tell him that 1 thank him beyond my’ ability of expression.’ Humphrey Davids concluded that his wife’s argument was irresistible. It might lead to something else, and there would be no harm done if it did not, so he wrote a note of acceptance in which his thanks were expressed for Morton’s consideration. Madame Davids was in ecstasies over the affair. Her head was in such a whirl that she thought and talked of nothing else. She discussed with the leading inodists the style of robe which she should wear upon that occasion, and sighed because Paris and its famous man-milliner were not available for her more exquisite adornment. Jasper Morton could hardly have made a more fortunate selection than

he did. for Madam Davids only lacked the means, not the spirit, to cut a dash in society. But she was endowed with sufficient good sense not to encourage her tastes and burden her husband with extravagance. When the opportunity was presented, however, and she could gratify her tastes without embarrassing him, it was simply irresistible. She was fond of society, gay and vivacious of spirit, charming in her address and unusually prepossessing in appearance. She seemed to have the faculty of pleasing all who came in contact with her. Without the least appearance of Itoldness she possessed that rare gift of personal assurance which places one at ease under all circumstances. The much-looked-for day arrived. The weather was delightful. Early in the evening Morton’s carriage stopped before Humphrey David’s residence. The lawyer and his wife were in readiness, and, seating themselves upon the soft cushions, were driven to the entrance of the great mansion. Upon ascending the brown-stone steps the massive oak doors opened as mysteriously as if they had been in charge of genii. Servants ushered them into the hall and up a broad, winding staircase into a large, luxuriously-fur-nished apartment. Madam Davids sank into a velvety’ seat to admire her surroundings while her husband’s eyes were fixed in a look of admiration upon her. He was so proud of her elegant appearance that all else seemed commonplace. Removing her wraps. Madam Davids stepped to the mirror to arrange her hair when suddenly her eyes fell upon an object which engages! her attention. It was a golden casket, wrought in a most beautiful and marvellous design. Upon the cover rested a card with an inscription which she read a.t a glance: To Mrs Humphrey Davids, with the Compliments of Jasper Alorton. Her bewilderment in consequence was such that it was some seconds ere she recovered herself sufficiently to speak. Then, turning excitedly to her husband, she exclaimed: ‘Humphrey, do come here, quick! Just look at this casket, and see the card attached 1 bearing my name.’

Mr Davids could scarcely understand for a minute the cause of his wife's ebullient manifestations of delight; but upon stepping to her side he did not marvel at it. Astonishment was depicted on his face as well as hers. ‘Great Caesar! What next, what next!’ the husband exclaimed; and taking the bauble in his hands to examine it, he added: ‘And it's pure gold, too.’ ‘Pure gold! Humphrey, you don't, think it's gold, do y’ou?’

‘Why certainly; it’s weight shows as much. If it were not gold it would not be so heavy. Lift it, my dear, and see.’ Madam Davids took the precious gift in her hands. ‘1 suppose it is a jewel case, but what shall 1 do for jewels to put in it?’ ‘You are in about the same predicament as the old woman who had a very fine stye but no pigs to put in it. Perhaps you are in a trifle better monds whereas one can’t get mock pigs. You will have to fill it with an assortment of Rhinestones. Open the lid and let us see the lining.’ A reply was unnecessary, for as Madam Davids raised the lid they beheld, resting on a cushion of pale blue satin, a magnificent diamond necklace and earrings. Neither could utter a word. The ]>ower of speech had momentarily deserted them. Madam Davids seemed really in, danger of dropping the casket, whereupon her husband reliened her off it. Then, escorting her to a low couch, he placed the trinket in her lap that she might give it a. closer inspection. ’Well, Humphrey, you may well ask “what next.” Are we under a spell of enchantment, or is this real? 1 never saw anything so perfectly beautiful in all my life, and it is intended for me.’ ‘They are certainly for you, my

dear. The “Duke of Areanum” would not have left them here. had he not inteuided them for you.* ‘But this is all so mysterious!* exclaimed his wife. ‘Yes, it is incomprehensible. It hits been so from the first.’ ‘Oh, dear! I’m so curious to see this wonderful man.* ‘You will lie face to face with him in a fw minutes.* ‘What shall 1 say to him or how shall 1 thank him for all this?’ •1 hardly know myself, as 1 have no acquaintance with him. It may be that any demonstration on your part won I<l l»e repugnant to him. especially so if he has a sensitive nature. You can tell better when you see him how to act.’ ‘Oh, dear, 1 am so impulsive; 1 hojxs 1 shall not offend him. Shall 1 put on the jewels?’ ‘Why, certainly; he wishes you to wear them to-night or he would have chosen some other occasion to present them. Arrange yourself as soon as jM>ssible and let us descend to make the acquaintance of our mysterious friend.’ Madam Davids posed before the mirror to arrange the drapery of her rich costume, then, removing her dainty bonnet, with skilful touches hen* am! there ishe restored her coiffure to its original elaborateness. Then removing the pearl rings from her ea.rs she replaced them with the magnifu*ent gems from the casket. Likewise the glittering necklace replaced the cameo at her throat; after which, surveying her profile in the glass for an instant, she turned to her husband and said: ‘Theire, I’m ready; how do 1 look?’

‘Like a queen, my detar. I’m sure the “Duke of Arcanum’’ would say so too. if he dared.’ answered the lawyer, with a smile. ‘Come. let us descend.’ No man ever offered his arm more proudly to his wife than did Humphrey Davids. Passing down the stairs together they entered the parlours, which were dazzling with the brilliant prismatic illumination of the chamleliers, and the variegated colours of the flowers. The hour was yet somewhat early for the advent of the beau monde. Pending their arrival Morton had taken a seat alone in the great, parlour, and as the lawyer and his wife entered he rose in a. (lignified manner and proffered his hand, saying —‘l presume that I have the honour of receiving Mr and Mrs Davids, have 1 not?’ ‘We are, indeed, sir, the objects of your mysterious consideration, Mr Morton. Let me present you to my wife, who will express both her surprise and gratitude for your royal kindness,’ the lawyer replied. Morton bowed deferentially, and extended his hand to Madam Davids. The latter returned the salutation in the most charming manner, saying: ‘Mr Morton, 1 a.m delighted to meet one. of whom I have heard and read so much, and of whose princely generosity I have’— ‘Don’t, Madam, don’t, I l>eg of you. Deem it sufficient to say .Jasjier Alorton. nothing more. I will admit that you have done me a distinguished favour in consenting to receive my guests to-night. T extend to you and your husband a. cordial welcome, and I hope that you in turn will extend the same to all who enter my house this evening.* ‘I will certainly do my best. Mr Morton.’ ‘I feel assured that it could not have been placed in better hands.* ‘Don’t l>e too sanguine, but T surely appreciate your confidence.’ Alorton smiled and invited them to seats. A fad ain Davids’ eyes wandered about the parlours admiringly, while her husband sought to engage* Alorton in conversation.

(To be continued.)