FOR LOVE OR MONEY
BY
ST. GEORGE RATHBORNE.
Author of 'Doctor Jack,’ *A Fair Revolutionist,’ *▲ Sailor’s Sweetheart,’ *A Chase for a Bride.'
CHAPTER XXXI. "JACK." He looked like a man of stone, upon whom pleading anti tears would be wasted. Fedora attempted neither at first—she seemed to speak and act as if in a dream, for his influence, whatever it sprang from, dominated her personality to a remarkable extent. Had it been so in those days of yore Fedora would never have willingly given him up. “You speak of Heaven in the same breath with vengeance —surely you eannot believe. Jack, that God approves of such things. I did wrong you. oh. most grievously; but I have bitterly repented it ever since, and hoped the day might come when I could tell you so. Often I have wept to remember your despair. It has been the one black spot upon my life, and kept me from being truly happy. But. Jack, won't you forgive if you can never forget—see. I plead with you; hold this wretched remembrance no longer against me. Be my friend, my brother. Y'ou already respect my husband: why be the means of his ruin'?” He showed no signs of emotion, whatever was passing within.
ruin upon us. and cast us out from society. For that I care little; but for God's sake, leave me the love of my husband and my children." It was enough to melt a heart of ice, and reason combined with emotion in the argument. Had not the marquis threshed this same straw himself almost daily—had it been thrust suddenly upon him. he must have been fairly overwhelmed. At least, there came a change over him —the terrible purpose with which he had entered the house remained indefinitely balanced, for he could not attempt to advance it. and maintain any semblance of self-respect. For the present a truee was declared. and while the white flag fluttered over the scene he could again examine his heart in all its bearings to see what it demanded as further expiation.
Perhaps the man who deliberates is lost—the wise old saying may not apply to woman only. Time would tell that.
It was not his design that Fedora sl.m Id see any sign of weakness in his manner, and he maintained the same passionless exterior he had shewn through the whole interview. "I promise nothing. Only this I say, that your children have doubtless saved you from a fate that might have eome upon you. I do not relent, I simply change my tactics, and for their sakes spare you that humiliation, that shame. What further means of punishment I may decide to invoke you will know in good time. As you sowed so must you reap. That is the law of recompense of stern justice. Therefore w'eep over your wretched lot, and bitterly regret that false step to which you were tempted by pride. 1 do not dare remain here longer in your presence. At least thank Heaven that I decided to abandon the plan upon which I was working as unworthy of an honourable man." "You are going. Jack'?” "Yes.”
Before his mental vision flashed the memory of his frightful anguish, and it still had the power to make him resolute.
“While I eannot forget, I must not forgive. You have not yet begun to know what suffering means. When the world seems dark and your soul prays for death—” "But, Jack, stop: consider: you eannot have revenge upon me without injuring my children,' she said, suddenly remembering bis weakness of old. and how a child had never appealed in vain so long as he had a sou left.
This was a harder task than the other, and the indomitable marquis was compelled to grit his teeth in the endeavour to stem the signs of retreat that threatened to overwhelm him.
"I regret exceedingly that they must suffer, for I am not so cruel to desire through their hold on your heart to inflict pain on you: but as 1 an innocent party once paid the penalty of your sin, so they. too. must inherit the legacy." "Jack, would you not like to see them—they have talked of you ever since—oh. do let me send for them?" eagerly, with a sudden bright thought flashing into her brain. His manner showed alarm.
"Without seeing the children?" pressing a button while he was not looking. “They remind me too bitterly of what you, their unhappy mother, seemed to me in the long ago—all innocence and trusting love. No, I don't wish to see them now.” "Oh. Jack, be reconciled —I shall pray daily that you cease to hate me. for the sake of those little ones. Did you know the boy's name is Jack?” "What!” he gasped, weakening. "Do you mean to say your husband allowed you to do that —and I am the man you .loved? Incredible!"
“In my present frame of mind I do not care to see them, nor would I wish to look again into their guileless eyes while remembering the great wrong their mother did me." “Is there no way in which you may be satisfied without the burden falling on them'?” she groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I know of none. They must suffer v ben you do. all being mem Iters of one family. It is fate.” “Jack, have mercy!—see. on my knees I beg you to forgive. It is true I wronged you most fearfully. God knows. I am wretchedly sorry. But out of that wrong has come your bright fortune, and perhaps. Jack, seme more worthy woman may fill the place in your heart I once occupied. Forget fhe past, and live for the future. Grasp them before they have flown. Rise above this spirit of revenge upon a weak, wretched woman. who in her thoughtlessness did yon harm and lived to repent. Already you have as you say brought
“I told him all. and it was he who first proposed it- Y’ou don't know his generous nature. I can see now what it was so disturbed him —you took his fire and freely gave him his forfeited life. Oh! wretched woman that I am to have been loved by two such noble men. and to have brought sorrow to both. Who will deliver me from fhe bondage of my sin?” As if in answer to her forlorn cry, the patter of little feet sounded somewhere—the Marquis alarmed at his own weakness, turned to fly. but made a miscalculation, for in the hall he was waylaid by the enemy, who rushed upon him with exultant cries. He made a swoop for the little girl and swept her up in his arms, until her golden curls nestled against his shoulder when he kissed her pouting lips again and again.
Then came the boy, to whom he had ]>aid so little attention before. Now he held him off at arm's length, where he could look into his resolute face and bold black eyes—yes, he was surely the image of what Livermore must have been as a lad. and yet. and yet, strange to say. the Marquis actually believed he could see some traces of his own characteristics in the boy—learned philosophical and psychological scholars and doctors have long argued this {mint, and agreed that it is not only possible, but actual—the image of her first love still remained strong in Fedora's heart at the time the child was born.
Kissing the youngster, the Marquis hastily quitted the house, followed by fhe anxious gaze of the wretched Fedora. until the children, astonished at the strange actions of their friend, loudly bewailed his flight, and demanded her attention.
Weep no more tears of repentance and fear, wife and mother, since the seed has been sown and the harvest must come in due season—that name of Jack, together with fhe Captain's generosity, proved the last straw that broke the camel's back. CHAPTER XXXII. LOVE HAS REDEEMED ME The game was drawing near its close. With each struggle that iron will of the marquis, which had been the marvel and admiration of his friends, came out much weaker. Many things conspired to bring about the ultimate collapse of that stern decree with which he had bound himself while exiled from London. There was the rebellion within, for nature had given him a generous spirit, and even such fearful wrongs as he had endured could not wholly change this into an aggressive one. living upon the hope of revenge. Then he had been almost overwhelmed by the discovery made under Fedora's roof, and the magnanimity of his old-time rival, the captain. Perhaps, however, the thing that had the most decided influence upon him was the startling conviction that there had been awakened within his heart a glow of love for the little miniature painter. He had scornfully mocked at this idea at first, and declared such a thing was not only ridiculous, but utterly impossible. And yet the evidences multiplied ami returned again and again to the attack until in sheer despair he abandoned his lines of defence and threw up the white flag.
Once this occurred it sounded the death knell of his long-cherished plan. With the flower of love blossoming again in his heart he could hardly have continued in his former policy. To adore one woman and desire to punish another for cruelly jilting him years liefore would be. indeed, a remarkable condition of affairs. When a man has lived upon a cherished plan for five years—when it has been meat and drink to him. and the one spur urging him on to climb ambition's ladder—it cannot lie dropped in an hour or a dav.
The marquis wrestled with this problem. Should he be magnanimous and freely forgive, or should he turn aside the bright vision that tempted him. shut himself up in a narrow compass ami carry out the miserable plan of the past?
Thus he debated, pro and con. Any one who was accustomed to reading human nature could easily tell how the battle so savagely fought within the confines of this man's heart must eventually end, for the poet knew man was included as well as woman when he sagely wrote:
When love once pleads admission to our heart. In spite of all the virtue we can boast. The woman who deliberates is lost. But it chanced that the marquis was not given an opportunity to fight his battle to a finish in the usually accepted term —there was a surprise in store for him, a flank movement, as it were, on the part of one who meant to be an ally, yet proved his worst enemy.
That person was the Spanish-Ameri-can belle of San Jose.
Senorita Juanita had not changed her tropical nature when she abandoned her native country and mingled with the society people of the world's metropolis.
She might dress as the occasion demanded and cultivate the polite manners of her aunt's friends; but not even the restraints of good English society could ever tame that bold, restless spirit.
If she had vowed to win Jack Overton when he was the involuntary president of Gautarica Republic, how much stronger must this resolution have become now that his name was on every lip as the lion of London, whose mostsimple action was recorded in the papers, and whom all men declared to be the most remarkable as well as the richest American nabob alive? His reluctance to meet her half way had but little effect on this child of nature — she believed he still loved, even while he hated the woman whose inconstancy had sent him adrift years before, and in her mind she hail decided that when his revenge had lieen fully carried out. he must surelv turn again to her.
It was wretched reasoning, but quite in a line with her exotic nature —all she realised was that somewhere there must be a stumbling block which, when removed, would allow the free passage of the stream.
However much the marquis might condemn with horror the method by which Juanita sought to force an entrance to his heart, this feeling must as time passed on. gradually give way before the powerful conviction that it was love for him that urged her to take such desperate measures.
It was on the evening following that when the marquis received such a shock at the hands of Fedora.
The marquis, as usual, was surrounded by a host of satellites at his hotel —men who were well known leaders in financial and society circles, who had even gained a fair measure of fame as military or diplomatic heroes, and who. one and all. courted the wonderful sun that had arisen in their midst, because Montezuma was a marvel, the lustre of whose dazzling presence had not l»een dimmed, even though he had been some weeks before the public. It was probably eleven o'clock when
one of the hotel lackeys came with a card on a silver salver and presented it to the marquis. This was a frequent occurrence, but on this especial occasion those who were near by saw the usually cool nabob give a plain start. "Where is the gentleman?” he asked. “In one of the small private parlours. sir. I will show you the way, if you please.” The marquis glanced again at the card which he held, and read: “Maurice Stanton Livermore: “Give me a private interview immediately .” “Lead me to the gentleman, he said quietly, though there was a tumult in his heart. As he reached the door of the bijou parlour he saw a man pacing restlessly to and fro, much as caged tigers are wont to exercise. It was Captain Livermore, but his friends would have been shocked at his appearance, for his hair was sadly lacking in order, his face flushed, as though he had dallied long over the wine, and his whole aspect very much like that of a man who has been on a spree. The Marquis was disturbed; he anticipated bad news, but had not a glimmer of what shape it would take until the captain, seeing him enter, advanced to meet him. A glance was sufficient to show that the famous traveller was labouring under some intense emotion—his jaws worked convulsively and his bloodshot eyes tilled with tears at one moment and glared venomously the next —in a word, he had the appearance of a madman.
Thus these, two came face to face in the middle of the little room. It was not the first time they had stood thus, looking eye into eye. The Marquis would never, to his dying day, cease to remember how this man had on that other occasion deliberately opened his coat and waited the shot that was to seal his doom. He now found the captain’s eye fastened upon him eagerly, hungrily, and, despite his nerve, somehow the fact caused him a strange uneasiness.
"Captain Livermore, what can 1 do for you?” he asked, coldly. "Sir, I have come for my wife!” The Marquis started as if someone had fired a pistol shot close to his ear. Even the most collected individual might be. a trifle rattled by such an answer. What could he mean?
Had the captain’s recent troubles turned his brain? The Marquis believed he was about as well balanced and level headed as any man of his acquaintance, and it hardly seemed possible such a catastrophe could have happened to him.
What, then? When an infuriated husband, vainly endeavouring to keep his wrath under control, calls a gentleman to one side and then and there deliberately demands his wife, it must be set down as possible that he believes he has good reason for such a proceeding. And perhaps the Marquis, his guilty conscience with regard to previous intentions in this very line hammering with thunder tones at his memory, could give a pretty good guess as to What such a demand meant.
Still this did not prevent him, while he was whipping his wits into line, from exclaiming: “Pardon me. sir, but I fail to exactly comprehend the meaning of what you say.” “Then 1 will explain further. My first intention was *o shoot you down on sight, but I could not forget that once you refused to avail yourself of the privilege of taking my forfeited life, and 1 swore that the man who had been so generous should have at least a chance to defend himself before I killed him.” "Still 1 am in the dark. The first thing I grasp is that she has told you who I am.” "I was a blind fool never to have suspected it. You have ruined me, Marquis, but surely that should have satisfied your desire for revenge. All that 1 had might go and welcome, so long as 1 still could call my wife and babies mine." His husky voice broke at this juncture and his stout figure trembled with emotion. "I can understand, captain, that you are labouring under some intense « veitement. t*>> l attice of which I am at a loss to comprehend. Do be seated and let us talk it over as calmly as we can. Nothing is to gained by your hurricane method of going at things.”
"Seated, sir!” with a fearful imprecation. “Never in your presence, sir. I am not an old man as yet, and have full possession of my limbs. Let there lie no beating about the bush. Again I say, I have come to you to demand my wife.” “And I reply, sir, that I have not seen your wife since last evening, when I left her in your own house, together with her children.” Eye looked into eye. It was as though the captain’s whole existence depended upon what he read there, his manner that of a distracted man holding his passions in check only through the most desperate effort. “Jack Overton, do you swear to that?” he demanded, hoarsely. "I do, on my life.” “But —you had some devilish plan for revenge, some means for snatching my wife away from my arms, as though two wrongs could make a right—admit it—you dare not deny such a truth!” “Nor will 1 at this late hour, since, God be praised, all those thoughts, born of a Satanic desire to avenge my past, have fled from my heart. Yes, 1 came back to England resolved upon visiting upon Fedora some of the same suffering she had thrust upon me. Call it fiendish, if you will—it was the natural desire of my baser nature, and which my residence among Span-ish-speaking people served to foster. “In this spirit 1 made your acquaintance with the result you already know. Then I met Fedora and I found that I had some sort of an attractive hypnotic power over her. She did not recognise me, and was drawn into friendly intercourse. I admit that I was even base enough to allow a thought of stealing her from you if I could enter my brain. Then, like a thunderclap came the heretofore unsuspected knowledge that you had children. They pounded at my heart and my intention wavered. Besides I was beginning to realise that I loved another, one whom we both knew at the time Fedora was studying art in Paris. 1 believe this fact alone would have caused me to abandon my miserable scheme, since 1 could never again look into Mazette's honest eyes if 1 had been guilty of such a sin. “Hut last night it received its death stroke, when I revealed my identity to Fedora, and I learned of your magnanimity in calling your boy after the man who had been your wife’s lover in years gone by. Sir, from that hour every evil design was banished from my heart, and I forgave Fedora as I hope to be forgiven for my own sins. Do you believe me?” Again the captain met his gaze and seemed to read his very soul through those open windows. After all these were two men built pretty much upon the same model—both brave and frank by nature. Such individuals ean understand each other through the mysterious realm of telepathy. “I cannot believe that the man whose generous spirit caused him to fire above my head on that other occasion would look me squarely in the eye and speak falsely. Yes, even against my will I am compelled to believe you, and I prove it by offering you my hand, marquis; but if you are not guilty then, in the name of heaven, who has taken my wife away?” The marquis met the extended hand more than half way. His cold demeanour was cast aside as one might a useless garment, and again he show-
ed himself the same warm Bohemian as of yore. “Captain, you alarm me. Surely there must be some mistake, and your anxiety, coupled with the excited state of your nerves, has led you into error.”
Hut Livermore shook his head and a most woe-begone look swept over his disturbed face. “I would to heaven there were even the slightest chance of it. sir, but the calamity is only too positive. I left home after dinner to meet a very important engagement that had a connection with my future—left there with the kisses of wife and children warm upon my face, for Fedora had told me all. ami her distress concerning your possible future action had drawn us closer together. I returned later in the evening just as speedily as a cab could bring me from the Victoria. to find her gone and my little darlings motherless.” The marquis was listening intently. His face was stern, the lines around his mouth betraying what he suffered. “Well, that is not all. You found something that turned your thoughts tow’ards me else you might have believed that Fedora had been called out to see some sick friend, or upon some similar charitable errand.” “Yes, and on the strength of that I started for your hotel, swearing to wrest the truth from you or murder you. That desire had died as suddenly as it was born. I don't know why I have this confidence in you, marquis, but some inward monitor bids me believe what you say. Look for yourself and explain why this note was left behind.” He handed the other a crumpled sheet of paper, upon which had been written in a peculiar chirograph}’, a long, running hand, such as is taught in Spanish schools: — “To balance accounts. “Guerre a mort.” When he looked up his face was ashen grey. Those eager, bloodshot eyes saw that the miserable and tragic little paper, worthy of a place on the comedy stage, had struck home. “You have guessed!” he exclaimed. "I believe I know who wrote this, and. therefore, who is at the bottom of the outrage. In one way I am to blame. Listen, and in the shortest possible time T will tell you about the Senoiita Juanita and the strange infatuation she has for me.” Rapidly he sketched the romantic story of his life under tropic skies. The captain might have imagined it was a leaf from such amazing tales as the Arabian Nights, only that his own deep interest in the matter forbade. By degrees he began to realize what a desperate woman they had to cope with, and new fears for his wife’s safety assailed him —one who possessed so" furious a temper and who dared a bold abduction in the heart of London that would have done credit to the kidnappers of a century or two back, might not shrink from anything when she had set her mind upon carrying out a project. It was hardly to be wondered at that the husband, who had faced many a deadly peril himself unflinchingly, trembled and turned to his companion for strength in this moment of terrible distress, when the woman he loved better than his life was in danger. Nor did he look in vain. The marquis had shaken off all the
doubts and fears that assailed him, and, aroused to a realisation of the desperate situation that faced them, was again the peerless comrade who had stood by valiant Barrajo when they fought for the Golden Fleec.*. “ Captain,” he said, sternly, “ depend on me to remedy this thing. If it took my life, 1 would freely give it to bring your wife back to your arms, for Love has redeemed me.” CHAPTER XXXIII. TRACKED TO DOVER. It was a splendid thing for the captain, who found himself so overwhelmed by the distressing condition of affairs, that he had a comrade wide awake to the im|>ortance of speedy action. The marquis knew with whom he had to deal. When those in whose veins flows Spanish blood pursue the thack of vengeance or vindictive hate, the grass is never allowed to grow under their feet, and Juanita, the loveliest of her sex in San Jose, bent upon winning a man’s heart by means of these remarkable tactics, would not suffer the precious minutes to be lost. Time, therefore; counted for much. He proceeded to question the captain in a quick, energetic manner, since it was necessary that he should learn the facts in order to grasp the whole situation. Not a particle of curiosity lay in his queries, for each had a vital bearing on the whole. Nor did the marquis waste time and breath in giving expression to the amazement that must have almost overwhelmed him in connection with this desperate deed of the SpanishAmerican beauty. Deep down in his heart he cursed his folly for ever having been friendly in the least with one possessed of such a tigerish, tropical temperament, and groaned to think of evil befalling Fedora through such a source. He held himself much to blame for it all. But for his cherishing that spirit of revenge. Juanita would never have dared to take a hand in the game. Even now her bold action was not influenced so much by hatr.d for Fecora as savage love toward him—she was possessed with a.r a’mst in ane desire to win her way to his heart through the m’sery of one she deemed a rival. This was bad enough, but it might not stop even there — who eould measure the vindictive feelings of such a woman, once she allowed her passions full swing. Horrible as the thought was, he realised that she might even be tempted to remove her fair rival, as the surest way to clear the track of impediments. Shorn of all outside considerations then, the captain’s story was of the hackneyed type —unsuspicious people may be deceived by the most ancient of specious tales, so that there is little need of originality, even in these modern days, in the matter of decoying a woman from under her own roof. The paper which Livermore had picked up in the hall explained much, for strange to say, it contained w.i - ing that in some respects resembled his own—at least under the supposed conditions he might have been the author of the message : “ Was injured in a collision with another cab. Send this good Samaritan sister to bring you to me. Come immediately. God aione knows how serious it may be. MAURICE."
When the marquis read it he muttered under his breath.
Perhaps the “ good Samaritan sister ” was Juanita herself in deep disguise, and with the most sinister of motives in her heart.
“ Come, we must go to your house without delay. The start must be made from there. On the way we can collect ourselves and make some preparation for the work.” This was his way of starting in, and as they left the hotel the marquis beckoned to a gentlemanlylooking fellow who, while appearing to be somewhat of a swell, was in reality the detective serving as his bodyguard. A four-wheeler was next in order, and in a very brief time they were whirling through the streets of London at the limit of speed allowed. To put the detective in possession of all facts was the next duty, and the marquis managed to acomplish it, though talking was no sinecure while the vehicle made such headlong progress. They might hope to profit from his coolness and long experience with those who broke the law, for this gentleman from Scotland Yard was not sus young as he appeared. Thus they reached the captain’s house. It was now long after midnight. The innocent children still slept, but the servants were up and in a nervous state. The man was a fellow who had accompanied the captain on all his African explorations and loved him with the affection a hound shows toward his master. In the fallen fortunes of the captain he eould not be induced to leave his employ—wages were no object with him. all he desired being the opportunity to serve the one he loted. Would that they were more like Amiel Kent. The marquis asked a few more questions, and then allowed the man from Scotland (Yard to take charge of the case. Again they were in the carriage, following a clue he had dug out of the debris, his unerring instinct having discovered that which might have easily escaped notice on the part of either the marquis or the
explorer, both of whom were accustomed to trailing wild beasts, but not human beings. Perhaps they may have had some doubts as to his ability, but these were speedily set at rest. The carriage stopped. Looking out, the marquis discovered that they were at a railway station. lie recognised the place, having landed here when he came across the Channel.
Next they made inquiries at the booking station.
Luckily the captain had a photograph of his wife along with him, snatched from the mantel at home by the suggestion of his one time deadly enemy, but now devoted friend. This was shown to the clerk. It was perhaps, fortunate that he was young and susceptible, always ready to admire a pretty face. At any rate, he declared the lady had been there and had gone on the last train to Dover.
He recollected the party well. It consisted of two ladies, who appeared sick or suffering in some way, a couple of attendants, honest-looking fellows, and the woman who seemed to have charge of them all—he had supposed her to be a housekeeper or companion.
Being pressed to describe her, and given a delightful tip for his trouble, he stirred his memory and the result was a pen-picture which could hardly pass muster for Juanita. There was a clue, however, and they eagerly seized upon it—something had occurred to disturb the amiable companion when she was buying tickets and she had plainly muttered a Spanish exclamation, something that to the clerk sounded like “cramba.”
Moreover, he had noticed that, for a lady of middle age and menial occupation, she possessed remarkably fine hands, and that valuable rings adorned them, one of which was a serpent with ruby eyes. That settled it, since the marquis had seen the ring on Juanita's finger many times.
Thus they knew those they sought had gone on to Dover. It was great triumph for the detective, and their faith in him rose accordingly. Still the situation was lugubrious
enough, since there was no train till morning. 'lha(t meant four or five hours wasted.
The captain grew red in the face with congested anger, and threatened to have an apoplectic fit. The detective was cudgeling his brains to discover how they might in some manner bridge over the difficulty. As to the marquis, he strolled off in search of some official from whom he might secure information. Baek he came in ten minutes. His face was still solemn, but the captain's eager eye detected a gleam of hope there. “What have you learned?” he demanded. “I have found a pair of wings that will take us to Dover. “Ah I he has chartered a special,” said the man from Scotland Yard, composedly, as though it would not have surprised him had this wonderful employer purchased the whole line of railway outright, and hauled the price out of his pocket. Nevertheless, it was true. The marquis, upon learning that only a question of pounds, shillings and pence kept them from reaching Dover, had put his hand into his pocket and made immediate arrangements for a motor and one first-class carriage. That is the result of being a genuine nabob, a Croesus of the first water. In ten minutes they were leaving the station, and long ere the city limits had been reached found themselves whirling along at a furious speed. With a clear track ahead and a fearless man in charge of the motor, they fairly flew. Many speculations were indulged in en route'as to what the ultimate destination of Juanita eould be—whether she meant to take her charge to France or Spain, or had a still darker purpose ahead in reaching the sen. The captain, torn with conflicting emotions, had all he could do to keep from going quite out of his mind. At times the marquis sought to soothe him. though on his own account he had much to consider, much that brought anxiety.
It was agreed by all that Fedora while in the cab must have been drugget! in some way, to prevent her calling for help—doubtless her cruel captor had made all pre|>arations for this and had no difficulty in stupefying her mind while she still retained the use of her limbs.
The booking agent had noticed the vacant expression on her face, anti delicately hinted that at the time he had a vague suspicion the two ladies might be affected in thair minds and were being taken to some private sanitarium near the coast. Two ! Somehow the marquis had not thoroughly digested this point before, though it had been frequently mentioned by the ticket seller. Two ! A strange cold shiver went through him as a drearful thought flashed home. He remembered how he hail met Juanita on the stairs; how she had questioned him about the demure miniature painter ; how she had bitterly exclaimed that the little girl of his former acquaintance had now grown up into a charming little woman. Good heavens ! could it lie possible that her terrible Spanish hatred had extended to Mazette, and that, having laid her plans to accomplish a certain purpose, she set out to kill two birds with one stone ? Now he suffered even worse than the poor captain, who had only one to consider. How the marquis regretted not having questioned the booking clerk more closely, and how he groaned to think that his miserable desire for revenge seemed about to bring a fearful disaster upon the woman he loved—yes, now that peril threatened Mazette again, he realised that she had crept into his heart and filled it completely—that the mere thought of her intoxicated him. And while he sat there grinding his teeth and swearing that if heaven would forgive him and spare her he would devote his fortune to make people happy, the special gave several sharp whistles aad plunged into Dover. (To be continued.)
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Bibliographic details
New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIII, Issue VIII, 19 August 1899, Page 277
Word Count
5,895FOR LOVE OR MONEY New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIII, Issue VIII, 19 August 1899, Page 277
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