36 4 K

 
 A DARK NIGHT'S WORK 
 
 BY 
 
 PAUL 1NGELOW. 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1S92, MELBOURNE PUBLISHING C^ 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 THE HENNEBF.RRY COMPANY 
 554 WAB/.EH AVENUE
 
 A DARK NIGHTS WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 THE HOUR AND THE MAN. 
 
 "HARK!" 
 
 A tempest of summer rain had been sweep- 
 ing hill, valley and dale. 
 
 Then the sun had come out, bursting from 
 the fleecy clouds like a bright, joyous being 
 bent on a race across blue meadows. 
 
 From every tree and bush a million glitter- 
 ing drops of rain hung, swaying, scintillating, 
 flashing like pendant diamonds. 
 
 And now, from the shelter he had sought 
 among a clump of elders, a man stepped into 
 view, the only human being visible on this 
 grand alternating panorama of nature. 
 
 In face, build and attire, he was so com- 
 pletely in harmony with the sun-jeweled land- 
 scape, that, as he stood surveying its beauties 
 with the eyes of a dreamer, he seemed a 
 sentient part of it. 
 
 2136179
 
 8 
 
 His garb was that of a tourist or artist 
 bent on an outing, for which he had selected 
 attire comfortable, appropriate, yet neat. 
 
 It fitted his athletic form till the well-built 
 muscles showed swelling and rounded with 
 health and vitality. 
 
 The light cap surmounted a brow broad, 
 intellectual, yet bronzed with exposure to the 
 summer sun. 
 
 Beneath it flashed eyes poetic, earnest, 
 yet active, subdued to tenderness as they 
 took in the dreamy glories of nature, yet 
 susceptible of expressing vivid emotion when 
 the heart was deeply stirred. 
 
 The chin was narrow, yet set, the mouth, 
 sympathetic, yet firm, and, altogether, the 
 striking combination of gravity and gentle- 
 ness, resolution and tenderness, calculation 
 and purity, method and dreaminess, evinced 
 that their possessor was a remarkable man. 
 
 His light tennis-shoes showed preparation 
 for tedious tramps, and were travel-worn and 
 dusty. Across his shoulder ran a strap se- 
 cured to an oblong case. Hanging to it, too, 
 was what resembled a small portable photo- 
 graphic camera. 
 
 He had paused as he stepped from shelter
 
 9 
 
 to enjoy momentarily the glories of hill, field 
 and valley spread before him like a painter's 
 canvas, and to drink in the deep, exhilarating 
 draught of the fresh, cool air, when, with a 
 start, he bent his ear, and, a rapt expression 
 on his fine face, he uttered the quick, invol- 
 untary word 
 
 "Hark!" 
 
 If his eye had before shown the ardor of a 
 true artist in his survey of the smiling land- 
 scape, it now glowed with the eager appre- 
 ciation of a true musician. 
 
 For the divine trinity of pure pleasure was 
 completed, golden light, glowing nature, and 
 now seraphic melody. 
 
 Birds were singing, but it was not their 
 sweet notes, clear and resonant as silver 
 beads dropped into a crystal dish, that en- 
 tranced him. 
 
 A near waterfall trickled over the rocks 
 with a swinging murmur of harmony, the soft 
 zephyrs swayed the pines to the rhythm of 
 /Eolian melody, but these sounds were 
 drowned in a full, glorious burst of magnifi- 
 cent song. 
 
 Like one held in the thrall of the most ex-
 
 IO 
 
 quisite pleasure, the young man listened 
 enrapt. 
 
 " Help some soul its strength renew, 
 As the journey we pursue, 
 Oh ! the good we all may do, 
 While the days are passing by ! " 
 
 The words rang out clear and echoing, 
 every quivering leaf seemed to vibrate with 
 them the golden, lute-like voice that pro- 
 nounced them seemed to be too seraphic to 
 be human. Well might he listen ! Well 
 might the scintillating rain-drops throb 
 and jar in consonance with the noble song 
 that filled air, heart and senses as if thrilled 
 from the lips of a famous diva ! 
 
 " Is the wood enchanted ? " 
 
 The stranger asked himself the question in 
 a subdued tone, as if fearful of breaking a 
 spell of magic. 
 
 Then, with wistful eyes and eager steps, 
 he stole along the path leading to a copse, 
 from whence or beyond which had certainly 
 emanated that full, clear burst of glorious 
 melody. 
 
 He penetrated the little belt of timber. 
 The forest nymph was nowhere in sight. 
 Approaching its other edge, however, he 
 drew back suddenly, warily.
 
 II 
 
 The fair one stood revealed. If the 
 song- had enchanted the traveler, the singer 
 held heart, interest and glance under a new 
 spell of witchery. 
 
 Where some wild vines formed a kind of 
 canopy, she lingered, as if there she had 
 taken temporary refuge from the passing 
 shower. 
 
 Dreamy influences about her, pure emo- 
 tions awakened by the happy voices of nat- 
 ure, her soul had found expression for its 
 thoughts, ambitions and aspirations in that 
 song of praise and hope. 
 
 Her face was perfect, her form rounded to 
 the symmetry of a Niobe. Only the eyes, 
 half veiled with dewy sadness, told that she 
 was other than some happy maiden, content 
 to wander forever amid the budding beauties 
 of field and forest. 
 
 "What a picture!'" 
 
 The stranger breathed the words soft and 
 low. If his eyes expressed admiration of 
 the lovely face, that ardor was tempered with 
 the quick, artistic sense that proclaimed him 
 to be a true poet and dreamer. 
 
 "I must catch that face the scene, its 
 surroundings," he went on, eagerly. "Nat-
 
 12 
 
 ure, beauty, art if she will only keep that 
 pose for another moment!" 
 
 His eyes fixed intently upon her, the stran- 
 ger deftly slipped the smaller box from the 
 strap across his shoulder. 
 
 He removed its canvas covering, revealing 
 as he did so a neat photographic camera, 
 provided with catch,' slides, focus adjustments 
 and automatic shutter for ready manipulation. 
 
 Leaning it against a gnarled, stout vine, he 
 got a perfect focus on the bower, the girl and 
 her immediate surroundings. 
 
 The back of the case came into view as he 
 did so. Across the black surface, in plain 
 white letters, was painted a name his name 
 for identification of the camera, to protect 
 it from loss or theft. 
 
 It read: 
 
 JERA LE BRITTA, 
 
 PHOTOGRAPHER. 
 
 His finger ready to snap the catch that 
 should open the shutter and time the expos- 
 ure, the artist started. 
 
 With slight excitement he peered at the
 
 13 
 
 girl and beyond her, a little gasp of alarm 
 escaping his lips. 
 
 For something unexpected had happened, 
 that, in later moments of his life, he was to 
 realize, trivial as it was, should change the 
 current of many careers, and render this a 
 most portentous hour in his young destiny. 
 
 The hour was a potent one he was to 
 know that soon yes, fate had precipitated 
 a strange climax on that smiling landscape, 
 and "the hour and the man' had arrived ! 
 
 Startled, as has been said, by a somewhat 
 unexpected and remarkable occurrence, the 
 artist was still intent on securing a picture of 
 the fair scene and the fair being who filled it, 
 at all hazards. 
 
 His deft fingers touched the button of the 
 camera. 
 
 Click ! 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 FALCON AND DOVE. 
 
 CLICK ! 
 
 The work was done ! The little shutter 
 lifted, hung suspended for a flashing moment 
 of time, and then shot back into place, hold-
 
 14 
 
 . ing its precious secret safe on the sensitive 
 plate within the slide. 
 
 A stroke of marvelous art had caught the 
 scene in a flash, had chronicled its every out- 
 line, and the picture of the fair girl was the 
 reward of the dexterity of the artist. 
 
 Something besides, too ! the excited 
 artist knew that and instantly his mind 
 recurred to the extraordinary and unexpected 
 occurrence that had disturbed him. 
 
 For, just as that ominous click sounded, a 
 baleful presence had appeared to mar the fair 
 scene. 
 
 From the dense shrubbery at the side of 
 the bower of vines a human face had come 
 suddenly, startlingly into view. 
 
 The artist had seen it ; he realized its dis- 
 turbing effect upon an otherwise placid 
 scene, but, fearful that the young girl gazing 
 dreamily at the beautiful landscape might 
 observe it too, and change her pose, he shot 
 the shutter at once. 
 
 To the intruder, Jera Le Britta now trans- 
 ferred his attention. 
 
 There was something sinister in the actions 
 of the new-comer. His face was that of a man 
 malignant, hate-filled, venomous.
 
 15 
 
 Dressed like a tramp, there was something 
 in his glittering eyes and handsome though 
 evil face, that proclaimed his garb to be .a 
 disguise. 
 
 He wore a green, broad shade over one 
 eye, and this disfigured, almost concealed his 
 features. He had lifted it to bestow one 
 quick, searching glance on the girl, but low- 
 ered it instantly afterward. 
 
 The girl had not moved. She was all un- 
 conscious of the proximity of the artist, of 
 the sinister cynosure of the tramp. 
 
 The latter, never taking his glance from 
 her face, slowly and cautiously extricated him- 
 self from the entangling vines that formed a 
 barrier between himself and the bower. 
 
 The artist drew nearer to the edge of the 
 wood. There was much in the appearance 
 of the intruder that suggested the slimy ser- 
 pent bent on decoying and charming the shy, 
 innocent dove. Le Britta's suspicious in- 
 stincts were aroused, his keenest sense of 
 chivalry, too, and he determined to watch 
 and await the outcome of the scene, that held 
 in its very incipiency all the elements of a 
 strange and weird plot. 
 
 What had guided his steps hither? Fate!
 
 i6 
 
 The girl probably resided in some of tlw 
 pretty villas that lined the green slopes half' 
 a-mile distant. The man might be a thieving 
 tramp, but his actions indicated some dee;/ 
 motive in studying the girl ere he approached 
 her. 
 
 The artist observed him steal noiselessly 
 toward her. Had the glittering gold bracelet 
 on the girl's arm aroused the cupidity of his 
 thieving instincts? No ; a few feet distant 
 from the object of his interest, the tramp 
 came to an abrupt halt. 
 
 He had stepped on a dry twig, and its 
 crackling had startled the girl. Rapid as a 
 flash she turned. Quick as lightning the 
 tramp dropped to an attitude of the most 
 abject servility, with bent face and extended 
 hand, assuming the pose and bearing of a 
 professional mendicant. 
 
 The girl was startled, more, frightened. 
 She uttered a little cry of alarm, shrank 
 back, gazed wildly about her, as if bent on 
 speeding precipitately from the spot, and 
 then, quivering with timidity and dread, she 
 gasped incoherently : 
 
 " Who are you ? What do want ? " 
 
 The man whined out some unintelligible
 
 words. The girl, her hand crossed nervously 
 over her palpitating heart, seemed to strive 
 to regain her composure. 
 
 Jera Le Britta, a spell-bound spectator of 
 the scene, saw the tramp's shaded eyes glow 
 from beneath the impromptu mask he wore 
 like those of a baleful basilisk. 
 
 "Oh! is it alms?" murmured the fair 
 maiden in a gentle, pitying tone. " You 
 look poor, hungry, tired. Here, I have not 
 much. You are welcome to that." 
 
 She drew forth a tiny, jeweled purse. Her 
 ringers trembled as she extended the few 
 coins that it contained. 
 
 The tramp edged nearer. His great rough 
 hand closed over the coins and her dainty 
 fingers as well. She shuddered and drew 
 back, for it was evident that the man had 
 made slow work of securing the money, in 
 order to take a keen, sweeping survey of her 
 features. 
 
 "Thanks!" he grated forth, hoarsely. 
 "Tell me, lady, though, your name ? " 
 
 "My name?" repeated the girl, flushing 
 indignantly. " Why should I do that?" 
 
 " So I can remember my kind benefactress." 
 
 So palpable a sneer was manifest in the
 
 i8 
 
 accents, that the girl started with suspicious 
 dislike and positive alarm. 
 
 With quiet dignity, however, she bestowed 
 a cold look on her pensioner, and said : 
 
 "My name cannot be of any interest to 
 you, and I do not care to publish a trifling 
 charity." 
 
 " But I want to know ! " 
 
 Of a sudden the tramp's bearing changed. 
 He arose from his crouching attitude of mock 
 servility. 
 
 Aggressive, insolent, threatening, he 
 blocked her way, as she uttered a cry of 
 alarm. 
 
 " And I will know ! " he blustered. 
 " Charity ? Bah ! Take back your gold, 
 scatter it to the pauper brats down at the 
 almshouse. Keep it, and may it sink you 
 and all about you, but you tell me what I 
 want to know before I leave this spot, or you 
 either, my proud lady ! " 
 
 With a scornful swing of his hand, the 
 tramp had flung the money in his grasp dis- 
 dainfully on the ground at the feet of his 
 astounded almoner. 
 
 Now, coming nearer to her, he hissed : 
 
 "I'd know that face from a picture I saw.
 
 19 
 
 I've watched you and saw you come from 
 Hawthorne villa. You are Gladys Vernon." 
 . The girl grew pale. Her eyes told that 
 the man had made a correct conjecture. 
 
 "If I am," she faltered, "what is that to 
 you ?" 
 
 " You shall see. If you are Gladys Ver- 
 non, you are the niece of old Gideon Vernon. 
 It's not you I care to know about. I can 
 guess that you have been lucky enough to be 
 adopted as the favorite of that crotchety old 
 miser, but there's some questions about him 
 I'm going to ask, and you're going to answer." 
 
 The girl's face had grown steadily whiter. 
 Defiance, fear, played alternately across her 
 colorless features. 
 
 Le Britta, about to spring forward and 
 relieve her from the presence and distressing 
 importunities of the insolent intruder, re- 
 strained himself, as some intuitive instinct 
 told him that the man's later actions might 
 reveal his motive in thus interrogating her, 
 and afford her friends a clue to his designs. 
 
 "First," announced the man, "I want to 
 know if old Vernon is not pretty near used 
 up." 
 " My uncle is quite ill," spoke the girl, icily.
 
 2O 
 
 " Good ! He'd ought to die ! " was the 
 heartless rejoinder. " Now then, has he 
 altered his will lately ? " 
 
 The tramp fairly hissed the words. So in- 
 tense was his malignity of expression, that 
 Miss Gladys Vernon recoiled with a cry of 
 terror. 
 
 "I will not tell you. You are some vil- 
 lain seeking to learn his secrets, to do him 
 harm. Release me ! help ! help ! help ! " 
 
 For the villain had seized her white, 
 shapely wrists in his brutal grasp. 
 
 "You shall tell me!" he glowered, 
 fiercely. " Quick ! Has he changed his 
 will ? Speak ! I will know ! " 
 
 " You scoundrel, lie there ! " 
 
 Smack ! 
 
 The man who could paint pictures, and 
 write poetry, and dream over sunny land- 
 scapes, could fight, as well. 
 
 All the chivalry in his energetic nature 
 aroused, Jera Le Britta had sprung forward. 
 
 His good right arm shot out like a piston 
 rod. 
 
 His sinewy fist landed squarely between 
 the eyes of the insolent boor before him. 
 
 And the next moment, as the fair young
 
 21 
 
 girl clung frantically to the photographer's 
 free arm for support, the trampish knave 
 who had insulted her, measured his length 
 on the ground at her feet. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A STARTLING RECOGNITION. 
 
 JERA LE BRITTA was a practical man, and 
 had led a prosaic life. That is, only senti- 
 ment and a love for the artistic had been thi- 
 main diversity in his existence from plod 
 ding, everyday routine. 
 
 The hour for action had arrived, however, 
 and he was not found lacking. A gentleman, 
 a friend to distress wherever found, his heart 
 had responded like magic to the call of 
 beauty unprotected. 
 
 The tableau that ensued to his speedy 
 interference in the scene at the wild-vine 
 bower, was a dramatic one. His fine face 
 aglow with indignation and resolve, he formed 
 a fitting companion for the innocent girl, who 
 trustingly recognized him as a valued pro- 
 tector, and a striking contrast to the enraged 
 and discomfited boor at his feet.
 
 22 
 
 "Leave!" he ordered, making a second ad- 
 vance toward the prostrate ruffian, but Miss 
 Vernon interposed a restraining hand. 
 
 " You have punished him enough," she 
 faltered, tremulously. " Let him depart in 
 peace." 
 
 "Peace!" snorted the tramp, struggling to 
 his feet and scowling frightfully. " I'll show 
 you, my haughty lady. You, too, you inso- 
 lent interferer. I'll" 
 
 " Go, if you are wise ! " ordered Le Britta, 
 warningly. 
 
 With a malevolent scowl, the subdued 
 knave shrank from the spot. 
 
 "Do not tremble so, you are safe now," 
 spoke the photographer to his companion. 
 
 "He frightened me!" quavered the girl, 
 apprehensively. " He hinted at such dread- 
 ful things about uncle ! He has threatened 
 even you ! " 
 
 Le Britta smiled confidently. 
 
 " He will do wisely to keep out of my path 
 in the future," he said. "And now, Miss 
 Vernon " : 
 
 " What ! You know my name ? " said the 
 girl, with surprise. 
 
 " I was a witness to your interview with
 
 23 
 
 that malignant scoundrel," explained the art- 
 ist. "From his lips I learned your name. 
 You reside near here?" 
 
 She pointed across the valley, to a preten- 
 tious mansion gleaming white and massive 
 among the trees on the other slope. 
 
 " I live with my uncle," she murmured, 
 "and I must hasten home. He will be anx- 
 ious about me. I had been to the village on 
 an errand, was caught in the shower, and 
 sought shelter here." 
 
 "And joined the birds in singing a bright 
 welcome to the returning sunshine?" re- 
 marked Le Britta. 
 
 The young girl flushed with embarrass- 
 ment. 
 
 " You heard me," she faltered. 
 
 ' That song led me to you," replied the 
 photographer. " One moment, Miss Vernon, 
 till I secure my traps, and I will accompany 
 you on your way." 
 
 "Oh! I could not think of troubling you," 
 she said. 
 
 "It will be a pleasure to me, perhaps a 
 protection to you," responded Le Britta. 
 ' That scoundrel may seek to trouble you 
 again."
 
 24 
 
 "But he has disappeared." 
 
 " Perhaps only temporarily. I do not wish 
 to needlessly alarm you, but that man is no 
 tramp." 
 
 "Then"- 
 
 " He was disguised." 
 
 " For what purpose ? " 
 
 " I know not, only his questions evinced a 
 familiarity with your family history. He 
 means your uncle harm, I fear." 
 
 " Oh ! I hope not," murmured the girl, 
 concernedly, clasping her hands in frantic 
 anxiety. " Uncle is so low and nervous that 
 the least thing will startle him. He has 
 some secret care all the time, and this rude 
 fellow would alarm, terrify him ! Yes ! yes ! 
 If you will accompany me ; if you will ex- 
 plain to uncle. He may know the man. 
 You can warn him, enlighten him." 
 
 Le Britta had secured his camera and other 
 traps. Miss Vernon, leaning lightly on his 
 arm, they took the path leading toward the 
 villa she had indicated. 
 
 The great, honest heart of the artist went 
 out in sympathy toward his fair companion 
 as they walked along the flower-spangled 
 path.
 
 25 
 
 The consciousness of duty done made him 
 content. A keen interest in the girl led 
 him to hope they should know more of one 
 another ere they parted. 
 
 His expansive nature ever took a delight 
 in deeds of chivalry and kindness ; and, as 
 she told him of the lonely life she led at the 
 sequestered villa, he marveled that so fair a 
 face had not long since attracted the loving 
 attention of some kindred spirit. 
 
 Opulence and stability showed on every 
 side, as Gladys led the way into the exten- 
 sive grounds of Hawthorne villa. 
 
 Grandeur, tinged with gloom, haunted the 
 massive rooms within the house with their 
 rich adornment. 
 
 Miss Vernon indicated a chair in the draw- 
 ing-room, and said she would see if her uncle 
 was able to receive a visitor. 
 
 The latter could hear her speak in low, 
 gentle tones to some one in the next apart- 
 ment beyond the closed doors. Then a more 
 masculine tone answered faintly, and then 
 she reappeared with her soft, pleasing smile. 
 
 " Uncle will see you, Mr. Le Britta," she 
 said. "I want you to tell him all about the
 
 26 
 
 man I met, only do not excite him too 
 much." 
 
 " I think you are wise in enlightening 
 him," assented the photographer. " That 
 man certainly means mischief to your uncle." 
 
 " Uncle, this is Mr. Le Britta, a gentleman 
 whose friendly kindness served me in a situa- 
 tion of peril to-day." 
 
 " Peril ! " repeated a startled voice, and 
 Le Britta found himself bowing to an aus- 
 tere, white-haired old man, propped up 
 among pillows in an arm-chair near the open 
 window. 
 
 "Embarrassment, Miss Vernon should 
 have said," interpolated Le Britta, lightly. 
 " Do not be alarmed, Mr. Vernon. I am a 
 photographer on a wayward tour, and I 
 chanced to interfere with the insolence of a 
 tramp a short time since." 
 
 With shrewd finesse, the photographer pro- 
 ceeded to relate the incident of the hour. 
 He told the story simply, robbing the narra- 
 tion of all exciting details as far as possible. 
 
 To his surprise, however, as he concluded 
 the recital, Mr. Vernon grew dreadfully pale, 
 and, sinking back among the pillows, uttered 
 a worried moan.
 
 27 
 
 'Trouble peril!" he gasped. "Yes! 
 Yes ! It means something. Oh ! must my 
 life be ever filled with fear ? Gladys, this 
 man was no tramp." 
 
 "I think not." 
 
 "An enemy, then. Yes, yes" 
 
 " Uncle, I pray you do not get excited ! " 
 exclaimed Gladys, solicitously. "You know 
 the doctor forbade any agitation." 
 
 "But this man he knew your name. He 
 threatened me ! He asked about my will "- 
 
 " He may have been some prying rogue 
 bent only on terrifying Miss Vernon," sug- 
 gested Le Britta, soothingly. 
 
 "No!" cried her uncle, forcibly. "There 
 is a plot here. Ah ! I feared it. Quick, 
 Gladys ! describe him." 
 
 The young girl did so to the best of her 
 ability. There was no sign of recognition 
 in old Gideon Vernon's ashen face as she 
 concluded, however. 
 
 " I must know who that man is," he cried, 
 in a sharp, querulous tone. "I am satisfied 
 that peril menaces us. Who can he be ?" 
 
 " Ah ! I had forgotten it." 
 
 Le Britta arose suddenly to his feet as he 
 spoke, a latent excitement in his eyes.
 
 28 
 
 " Forgotten what ? " demanded Mr.Vernon, 
 wonderingly. 
 
 " You would like to know who the tramp 
 
 i " 
 was f 
 
 " I shall know no rest till I find out," an- 
 swered the old man, anxiously. 
 
 " Will his picture do ? " 
 
 " His picture ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Have you got it ? " inquired the old man, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " Where ? Show it to me ! " 
 
 " It must be developed first. Allow me to 
 explain. I was taking a snap-shot picture 
 with my camera of Miss Vernon. Just then 
 the tramp came into view. His face, as well, 
 will show clearly on the plate." 
 
 " What fortune ? Where is it ? " 
 
 " In my camera, but I can develop a nega- 
 tive quickly, only I must have a dark room 
 in which to perfect it." 
 
 Le Britta soon made his interested and ex- 
 cited auditors comprehend what he had to do 
 in order to produce a distinguishable picture. 
 
 Soon, too, he was shown to a dark apart- 
 ment. Here, with ruby lamp, trays and
 
 29 
 
 chemicals, he perfected the plate taken from 
 the camera. 
 
 Old Gideon Vernon's hands trembled with 
 excitement as he saw him reappear, bearing 
 the glass plate between his fingers. 
 
 " It is a perfect picture," spoke Le Britta, 
 as he held the plate between the old man's 
 range of vision and the light of the open win- 
 dow. " See, Mr. Vernon, there is your niece, 
 and here is the tramp. Do you recognize 
 him?" 
 
 With staring eyes the old man glared at 
 the outlines on the plate. 
 
 Then, with a hollow groan, he threw up 
 his thin, white hands, and sank back a hud- 
 dled, senseless heap among the pillows, with 
 the agonized utterance : 
 
 " It is he the dead alive. Act, Gladys ! 
 act ! or all is lost ! " 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FROM THE PAST. 
 
 JERA LE BRITTA looked startled as he ob- 
 served the wealthy and aged Gideon Vernon 
 sink back insensible, uttering those ominous 
 words
 
 30 
 
 "Act, Gladys, act ! or all is lost ! " 
 
 The effect of this marvelous statement on 
 the girl, was to drive every vestige of color 
 from her face. 
 
 " He is dying ! " she shrieked, bending 
 over the limp and motionless figure of her 
 uncle. "The shock has killed him." 
 
 " No, no, Miss Vernon," said Le Britta, 
 quickly. " He has only fainted. You really 
 must not excite yourself. Allow me to give 
 him the attention he needs. Bring some 
 water." 
 
 The young photographer knew much of 
 chemicals, something as well about medi- 
 cines. He hastened to examine a medicine 
 case outspread on the table. Selecting a 
 phial, he poured a few drops into the goblet 
 which Gladys presented with a trembling 
 hand and fear-filled face, and then, approach- 
 ing the invalid again, he forced the stimulant 
 between the ashen lips of the old man. 
 
 Watched with haunted, frightened eyes by 
 the girl, and speculatively by the more com- 
 posed artist, the invalid slowly rallied. A 
 sigh escaped his lips, his eyes opened, glared 
 wildly about him, and then, with a shudder, 
 he gasped hoarsely :
 
 3' 
 
 "Where is he that man Ralph Du- 
 rand ? " 
 
 " Is that the name of the tramp?" began 
 Le Britta. 
 
 " He is no tramp." 
 
 " I suspected as much." 
 
 " He is a scoundrel of the deepest dye, an 
 enemy, a man to fear, a being to chain, as 
 you would a wild beast; and I thought him 
 dead ! I rested in fancied security !" 
 
 " You may be mistaken ; a fancied resem- 
 blance," hazarded Le Britta. 
 
 "No!" cried the old man, definitely, "I 
 am not in error. It is no fancied resem- 
 blance. There is but one Ralph Durand in 
 the world, and he has appeared in this vicin- 
 ity to-day. The picture you showed me is 
 his. Do you know what that means ? " 
 
 Le Britta regarded the hollow-eyed invalid 
 and his increasing agitation with alarm. 
 Vernon's nerves were at a frightful tension. 
 
 " It means plot, peril, crime, and the will 
 
 -all! I see it all. I must be calm, I must 
 
 act with promptness and prudence, or we are 
 
 lost. Gladys, I must see you alone to direct 
 
 you. You must hasten to the village at
 
 32 
 
 once. This stranger must not be harassed 
 
 with our family troubles" 
 
 "Mr. Vernon," interrupted Le Britta, 
 gravely, " it is true that I am a stranger, but 
 I am deeply interested, and deeply sym- 
 pathize in your troubles. You are in a 
 dangerously weak condition. Too much ex- 
 citement may prove fatal to you. I beg of 
 you to be calm, to composedly tell me your 
 story, and allow me to aid you in any way I, 
 can. You surely would not think of sending 
 your niece back into danger of meeting that 
 villain again ? " 
 
 " Trust a stranger ? " mused Vernon, dubi- 
 ously. 
 
 "Yes, uncle, you can trust Mr. Le Britta," 
 spoke Gladys, with a grateful, confident 
 glance at her rescuer. 
 
 "I will," announced Vernon, resolutely. 
 "'* Mr. Le Britta, I depend solely on you to 
 aid me, to protect this fair young girl who 
 will soon be friendless, as she is an orphan." 
 
 " No ! no ! uncle, do not say that," sobbed 
 Gladys. 
 
 " It is true. I feel that I cannot long sur- 
 vive this last shock," proceeded the invalid. 
 "I am a wealthy man, Mr. Le Britta, with
 
 33 
 
 but one near relative, my darling, faithful 
 Gladys. To her, three years ago, I left by 
 will all my fortune." 
 
 " Then what interest can this villain Ralph 
 Durand have in knowing about it what 
 have you to fear from him ? " queried Le- 
 Britta, wonderingly. 
 
 Vernon shivered apprehensively. 
 
 "Much to fear at all times," he replied, 
 "but just now only regarding Gladys' future. 
 This man is a distant relative, a half cousin. 
 Three years ago he was my favorite. Gladys 
 was not with me then. I trusted Durand with 
 the control of my property. I treated him 
 like a son. I had deposited in a bank sev- 
 eral thousand dollars which I intended leav- 
 ing to him when I die. I made a will. Gladys, 
 of course, was my sole heiress. In that will I 
 appointed as as her guardian this man Ralph 
 Durand, with rare discretionary powers, until 
 she was of age, for I trusted him implicitly. 
 His fellow-trustee was a friend of mine, 
 Doctor Winston." 
 
 " I understand," nodded Le Britta, compre- 
 hendingly. 
 
 "That will I deposited with my city lawyer. 
 In his safe it has since lain. A short time
 
 34 
 
 after I made it, Durand was unmasked to me. 
 Slowly, doubtingly I grew to believe, and, 
 finally, investigated the dark rumors that 
 reached my ears about his bad habits. 1 
 learned that he was a profligate, a gambler 
 of the worst kind, that he openly scoffed at 
 me as 'a golden goose he was plucking ' to his 
 evil-minded companions in vice. I found that 
 he had systematically robbed me, that he was 
 a forger and an embezzler in matters of my 
 estate. I summoned him to my presence, 
 and told him all. I ordered him from my 
 door. He left. That night he managed to 
 get a forged check for a large amount on my 
 banker cashed, and on a second forged order 
 he obtained a box containing some private 
 papers of mine. Among them was a a 
 document," and Vernon faltered and paled 
 visibly. "It referred to a family secret that 
 I wished to guard at all hazards. I sent de- 
 tectives on his track, but it was of no avail. 
 Every day dreading that from some secure 
 and distant place he would begin to menace 
 me with giving publicity to the secret, I 
 shuddered and feared. Finally, one day, in 
 a newspaper I read that Ralph Durand had 
 been killed in a drunken brawl in a far
 
 western mining tavern. I was free. I was 
 only haunted after that with the fear that 
 some one might accidentally find the docu- 
 ment he had stolen, and attempt to black- 
 mail me or publish the same. Now," and the 
 old man's eyes expressed a deep anxiety, 
 " he reappears suddenly, mysteriously, he was 
 not dead at all. He has returned to wreak 
 his baleful hate on myself, and the only rel- 
 ative I have in the wide world." 
 
 Le Britta was intensely interested in the 
 strange, graphic recital, but he said, sternly : 
 
 "And, Mr. Vernon, what is to prevent you 
 from sending word to the nearest police 
 official to arrest this knave who robbed and 
 disgraced you ? " 
 
 "No! no !" uttered Vernon, quickly. "I 
 dare not do that. Too well Ralph Durand 
 understands his power, and he will wield it 
 without mercy. He probably has the com- 
 promising document I refer to, and he knows 
 I would rather pay a fortune than have it pub- 
 lished. 
 
 "And that document?" insinuated Le 
 Britta, curiously. 
 
 " I dare not tell you. Gladys, too, must 
 never know. Leave all that to me. I will
 
 36 
 
 find a means of securing and destroying it, if 
 I live. I will, later, negotiate with this vil- 
 iain for its surrender for a money consider- 
 ation, but just now there is a far more vital 
 
 point that agonizes me and demands atten- 
 
 , 
 tion. 
 
 "And that is? " queried Le Britta. 
 
 "The will," ejaculated Vernon, forcibly and 
 excitedly. 
 
 " The one you made " 
 
 "Three years since. It has never been 
 changed. It lies at the lawyer's, just as I 
 left it." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Le Britta, incredu- 
 lously. " Surely, Mr. Vernon, you do not 
 mean that you allowed that important docu- 
 ment to remain as it was with that villain 
 Ralph Durand as guardian to Miss Vernon." 
 
 " Yes, I know it was reprehensible, but, 
 let me explain. For a time I was so worried 
 over Durand, that I never thought of the will. 
 Then Gladys came from boarding-school to 
 brighten my life, and it again escaped my 
 mind. One day I thought of it, and arranged 
 to go and get it, destroy it, and make a new 
 will, appointing a new guardian. That very 
 day I read of Ralph Durand's death. That
 
 37 
 
 relieved me of all dread. If he was dead, the 
 mention of his guardianship was invalid. 
 Naturally, Doctor Winston, a trusted friend, 
 would become successor in trust. The will 
 was made extra strong and with care, and 
 blind that I was to the future, I never wor 
 ried about it." 
 
 "But now," began Le Britta, and paused. 
 
 " Now, to be plain, if I should die to- 
 night," 
 
 "Oh! uncle," murmured Gladys, with a 
 shudder, nestling closer to her beloved rela- 
 tive. 
 
 " Yes, if I should die to-night," pursued 
 Vernon, steadily, that man Durand would 
 appear here to-morrow in all his insolence 
 and villainy, your legally-appointed guardian 
 the guardian of my pure, innocent Gladys. 
 Oh ! it is terrible to contemplate. Worse 
 than that, in my blind confidence in him I gave 
 Durand, under the terms of the will, an abso- 
 lute temporary control of everything, without 
 bond or legal accountability. No! no! I 
 must take no risks. Not for a day, for a 
 single hour. We must, indeed, act, or all is 
 lost ! "
 
 3* 
 
 " Then why not send to your lawyer for 
 the will ? " suggested Le Britta. 
 
 " It is in the city. A day's* journey there, 
 a day's journey back." 
 
 "Telegraph to have it destroyed." 
 
 " In an important step like that they might 
 hesitate. No, I have a plan that obviates it 
 all." 
 
 " May I ask what it is ? " queried the pho- 
 tographer. 
 
 " Yes, a new will." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " I will send at once for the village lawyer, 
 Mr. Munson. You will go for me, Mr. Le 
 Britta ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Bring him at once. I will have him draw 
 out a new will, giving all my property to 
 Gladys, but appointing a new guardian. 
 You and the lawyer can witness it. I will 
 deposit it in a safe place. This will invali- 
 date the old will. Then I can rest in peace, 
 then I can defy this villain, who, I verily be- 
 lieve, would murder me if he knew how affairs 
 stood his rude questioning of Gladys proves 
 that." 
 
 " You are right, Mr. Vernon," spoke Le
 
 39 
 
 Britta, comfortingly. "Your clear-headed 
 plan removes all obstacles from your path. 
 Where am I to go what is the name of the 
 village lawyer ? " 
 
 Mr. Vernon directed his guest, and urged 
 dispatch. For a moment Le Britta busied 
 himself adjusting his camera for future use. 
 Then he announced his readiness to depart 
 on his strange and important mission. 
 
 "I can never forget your great kindness 
 to us, Mr. Le Britta," spoke Mr. Vernon. 
 " Once the new will is made, I shall feel as 
 if I have a new lease of life. Why, sir, what 
 is the matter?" 
 
 Le Britta had started violently. He even 
 uttered a quick ejaculation of surprise, almost 
 alarm. 
 
 About to speak, he turned his glance from 
 the open window whither with fixed intensity 
 it had just been directed, and evaded a re- 
 ply, by saying, with forced calmness : 
 
 "I am ready to depart on my errand, Mr. 
 Vernon." 
 
 Every pulse was quickened, his nerves 
 were at a high tension, however, as he left 
 the room. 
 
 He knew that to reveal the truth to the
 
 40 
 
 invalid, would be to startle, alarm him, 
 possibly imperil his life. 
 
 For, peering in at the window through the 
 thick vines that trellised it, he had seen the 
 evil, malignant face of the pretended tramp, 
 Gideon Vernon's old time enemy 
 
 Ralph Durand ! 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 '' TINCTURE OF IODINE." 
 
 Miss VERNON accompanied the artist to the 
 door. Her eyes expressed gratitude, her 
 working features told of how she valued the 
 kind friend so strangely come to her rescue 
 in a time of direful need. 
 
 "Watch out closely for that villain Durand/' 
 spoke Le Britta, seriously. "I shall not be 
 gone long." 
 
 As soon as Gladys reentered the house, 
 however, he glided stealthily around the cor- 
 ner of the mansion. 
 
 " It was no delusion," he murmured. 
 "That man, the tramp, Ralph Durand, was 
 certainly at the window. He may have over- 
 heard every word of our conversation." 
 
 Le Britta was forced to act with caution.
 
 He dared not alarm Mr. Vernon by telling 
 him of his latest startling discovery. 
 
 He penetrated the shrubbery, he sought 
 everywhere for a trace of the lurking scoun- 
 drel, but none was vouchsafed him. 
 
 "He has disappeared," soliloquized Le 
 Britta. " He surely will attempt no villainy 
 in broad daylight. I can only hasten on my 
 mission, and, returning, aid this poor old 
 man and his niece by advice and protection." 
 
 Le Britta hurried toward the distant village 
 at a rapid gait. His thoughts kept pace with 
 his swift walk. 
 
 That earnest mind of his was deeply en- 
 grossed in the case that a mere trifling acci- 
 dent had made a seeming part of his life, a 
 vivid chapter in the book of destiny. 
 
 " The camera supplies the clue," he re- 
 flected. " It is like the affair where I photo- 
 graphed the brain of a murdered man, and 
 that strange evidence played a conspicious 
 part in the trial that ensued. Ah ! the possi- 
 bilities of my profession. It is artistic in the 
 highest sense, yet material. It is the con- 
 necting link between the past and the present. 
 It illuminates that past, it sanctifies the pres- 
 ent, it makes bright the future. A picture is
 
 42 
 
 fadeless. It gives to the mourner the sweet 
 face of the cherished dead. It preserves the 
 record of love, devotion and fidelity. In this 
 case, it has played the detective, may the re- 
 sults baffle villainy, and bring peace and hap- 
 piness to those two imperiled souls." 
 
 Truly, indeed, a great art was that to 
 which Jera Le Britta had devoted his life and 
 enegies. 
 
 He had made a study of photography. 
 From the wavering steps of Daguerre to the 
 proud, steady progress of a Sarony or a 
 Drake, he had followed the advancement of 
 the art, delving into its details, investigating 
 its possibilities, experimenting, combining, 
 improving, until the boundless scope was be- 
 coming a field of never-failing delight and 
 surprise to his keen, artistic senses. 
 
 He had been a successful man in his labors 
 thus far. Jera Le Britta had idolized his 
 work. He saw in the art to which his efforts 
 were directed, a purpose, a reward in mental 
 and moral development and pleasures, that 
 were beyond mere financial recompense. 
 From such compensations, content and satis- 
 faction had been wrought, and, with a pure 
 ambition to excel and elevate his profession,
 
 43 
 
 he knew that the hard-earned results would 
 be more than the trivial praise awarded to a 
 man who follows alone the " fad " of the hour, 
 or labors only for folly or amusement. 
 
 The highest, truest praise had often been 
 his, but because he had added to the majesty 
 of a beautiful art. He had begun with no 
 special advantages, and in a small way. He 
 had made steady progress, adding instru- 
 ments and facilities to his studio, until he 
 stood in the front rank of his profession. 
 All this was the result of diligent study, con- 
 stant application and artistic ideas. 
 
 Such was the man who had found his heart 
 responding to the call of distress, and al- 
 though his business soon called him from a 
 well-earned vacation, he resolved to devote 
 time and energy to disentangle the skein of 
 two harassed lives, feeling that his own 
 would be the happier for the temporary sac- 
 rifice. 
 
 The glare of the city did not fascinate him 
 nature was his queen, his art, his shrine. 
 Quick of touch, deft of perception, thinking 
 far more of an honorable, aspiring career of 
 usefulness than of simple worldly dross, he 
 had engaged in the defense of a menaced
 
 44 
 
 couple of lonely, frightened people, with no 
 thought of reward, but from a pure sense of 
 chivalry and right. 
 
 The complications of the plot in sight 
 interested and yet startled him vaguely. He 
 could scarcely understand such deep villainy, 
 and yet he realized that the scoundrel, 
 Durand, held the whip-hand over Gideon 
 Vernon through the secret of his life, and 
 menaced him powerfully and balefully. Later 
 he resolved to appeal to the invalid to boldly 
 defy his persecutor, but first he plainly real- 
 ized the all-important thing was the execution 
 of a new will, rescinding and invalidating the 
 document that made the sordid Durand the 
 guardian of the fortune and happiness of 
 beautiful Gladys Vernon. 
 
 Le Britta reached the village in an hour. 
 A second hour was lost in seeking the law- 
 yer, Mr. Munson, for whom he had been 
 sent, and the result a keen and perplexing 
 dissapointment. He experienced no difficulty 
 in locating the office of the attorney, but 
 found only a clerk there. 
 
 " I wish to see Mr. Munson," he spoke. 
 " Mr. Vernon wishes to have him come to 
 his villa at once."
 
 45 
 
 "Mr. Munson is out," answered the dap- 
 per, smart-appearing subordinate. 
 
 " Where can I find him ? " 
 
 "He went to see Judge Elston about a 
 case. The large house beyond the depot." 
 
 Arrived at the judicial residence, Le Britta 
 found only a servant there. 
 
 She stated that her employer and Lawyer 
 Munston had taken a carriage, and had 
 driven over to the next village to see about a 
 case on trial there. 
 
 " Do you know when they will return," 
 queried the protographer, anxiously. 
 
 "No ; not before late to-night, though/' 
 
 " I may as well return to the villa. There 
 is no other lawyer in town," reflected Le 
 Britta. "Mr. Vernon will be anxious, and I 
 fear that villain Durand. Why can he not 
 write his own will, and secure another witness 
 beside myself, from some neighboring resi- 
 dence? "Yes," he decided; " I will return 
 and suggest that course to him." 
 
 Le Britta, therefore, started back the way 
 he had come. 
 
 Just as he left the village, he paused for a 
 moment, bent his ear, listened, and then
 
 4 6 
 
 smiled, despite the grave responsibilities that 
 weighed upon his mind. 
 
 A boy, mending a kite in a back yard, was 
 singing at the top of his voice, and the strain 
 he was laboring over was the chorus of a 
 song that was a ruling favorite just then on 
 the comedy stage. 
 
 His youthful voice rang out clear and 
 resonant as the piping cry of a red-bird - 
 
 " But there came upon the scene a bright photographer, 
 
 There came upon the scene a bright photographer, 
 
 There wasn't a biographer, 
 
 Nor e'en a lexicographer, 
 
 Who did not write about this bright photographer. " 
 
 Le Britta smiled. Life had its humorous 
 side, even where gravity was the rule of the 
 hour, but the momentary influence of merri- 
 ment soon gave way to the more somber 
 duties of the time. 
 
 He reached the grounds of Hawthorne 
 villa somewhat wearied from his long tramp. 
 He took a keen glance about the garden, the 
 lurking Durand still in his thoughts ; then, 
 being positive that he caught the murmur of 
 human voices just beyond a gothic summer- 
 house encased in foliage, he drew near to it, 
 and peered through the interlacing vines. 
 
 " Hello ! What does this mean ? "
 
 47 
 
 Well might the photographer stare in won- 
 der, and repeat the startled ejaculation ! 
 
 For it was not the plotful Durand that he 
 saw, but, outlined plainly in the soft light of 
 the structure, the fair form of the debonair 
 Gladys, and, holding her snowy hand, and 
 peering into her flushing, down-cast face, was 
 a young man. 
 
 "A lover she has a lover!" murmured 
 Le Britta. " Here is a new complication. If 
 he is only worthy of her" 
 
 He had no thought of playing the eaves- 
 dropper, but the scene held him momentarily 
 captive. Honest brotherly interest in Miss 
 Vernon caused him to study the face of her 
 companion keenly. 
 
 A reader of men, he looked pleased and 
 satisfied as a second glance at the athletic 
 young fellow convinced the photographer that 
 he was one of nature's noblemen. 
 
 "No, dear Sydney, you must not think of 
 seeing uncle just now," Gladys was saying. 
 
 "But I cannot endure this suspense. I 
 cannot have him at emnity with me, and all 
 for a foolish misunderstanding," persisted her 
 companion. " We love each other, Gladys, do 
 we not? We are pledged to one another.
 
 4 8 
 
 Your uncle quarreled with me because I in- 
 sisted on an early union. Hot-tempered, I 
 was unreasonably haughty with him. The 
 result is a coldness between us. No, dear 
 heart ! I value your peace of mind and Mr. 
 Vernon's good opinion too deeply to be at 
 odds with him. I shall try to see him some 
 time soon this evening, probably, and con- 
 fess my willfulness, and smooth over our little 
 inconsistencies of temper. I will have it so ! 
 Ah ! he is calling you. There ! you must go. 
 Good-by, my life's love and light ! Until to- 
 morrow, adieu ! " 
 
 There was the echo of a kiss, and Le Britta 
 gained the front portals of the house just as 
 Gladys, red as a peony, came around the 
 garden path. 
 
 "Oh! Mr. Le Britta, you have returned?" 
 she murmured, confusedly. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Vernon." ' 
 
 "And alone?" 
 
 "The lawyer is out of town." 
 
 " O dear ! what will uncle say ? " 
 
 Le Britta explained his new plan. It 
 seemed to please her, and she led the way 
 into the house. 
 
 " I like that young fellow she called Syd-
 
 49 
 
 ney," reflected Le Britta. " I hope I may 
 have an opportunity of helping to heal that 
 breach in the sadly disorganized, domestic 
 distress of this strange family." 
 
 He found that the invalid had caused his 
 chair to be wheeled out on the porch, where 
 the bright sunshine filtered through the cool, 
 green leaves of overhanging boughs, and, 
 seating himself by his side, Le Britta told 
 him of the result of his visit to the village. 
 
 Mr. Vernon was disappointed over the re- 
 port at first, but Le Britta soon convinced 
 him that they could arrange the affair of the 
 will quite as well without legal assistance. 
 
 " I think I can dictate the proper form," he 
 said. "You can write it, Mr. Vernon, and it 
 will need two witnesses. I will act as one." 
 
 "And the other?" murmured Vernon. 
 
 "Some neighbor" 
 
 Mr. Vernon frowned, annoyedly. 
 
 " Not my nearest neighbor," he spoke, 
 severely. "The young gentleman boarding 
 there has taken occasion to resent my will, 
 and " 
 
 An imploring look from Gladys silenced 
 the old man on that score, but he added : 
 
 " We can find some one readily. Yes, yes !
 
 50 
 
 My dear friend, your suggestions are invalu 
 able. We will proceed to business at once." 
 
 Le Britta was glad to have the matter so 
 satisfactorily adjusted. He got ready to help 
 wheel the invalid's chair back into his room 
 from the porch, meantime congratulating 
 himself that Durand had not appeared dur- 
 ing his absence. 
 
 He little dreamed it, but Durand was very 
 near to him at that moment. 
 
 There was a rustle among the vines near 
 the open window of the now vacant sick- 
 room, as the conversation on the porch ter- 
 minated. 
 
 The next moment, an uncouth figure sprang 
 over the window-sill and landed on the floor 
 of the apartment beyond. 
 
 It was Ralph Durand, the pretended tramp, 
 only the disfiguring shade was torn from his 
 face now, revealing all the dangerous bright 
 ness of his evil-piercing glance. 
 
 Those eyes swept the apartment in a quick 
 flash. His lip was curled in scorn, his man- 
 ner bold, insolent, aggressive. 
 
 " So ! " he murmured, " old Gideon Vernon 
 seeks to outwit me, does he ? A man with 
 three years' experience among the rough
 
 miners of the west scarcely stops at the weak 
 efforts of a dying miser, a love-sick girl, and 
 a philanthropic photographer. The game is 
 in my hands, if Gideon Vernon dies. He 
 shall die ! Fortunately I have overheard all 
 their plans. But the new will ? My only 
 hope is to still watch ccvertly. I cannot pre- 
 vent its execution, but I can find and destroy 
 it later. Once guardian of the beautiful 
 Gladys, once I handle the Vernon fortune, I 
 will make no mistake next time. Mercy ! 
 the very thing ! " 
 
 With a prodigious start the man with the 
 murderous heart and an eye of lurid, baleful 
 fire sprang to the side of the table. 
 
 There, outspread, was the medicine case. 
 His glance, running over the phials and 
 bottles it contained, rested, fascinated, on one 
 of them. 
 
 Tightly corked, it bore the label, Tincture 
 of Iodine. 
 
 The man's eyes blazed with fervid delight 
 as he read it. 
 
 "Tincture of Iodine !" he ejaculated, with 
 a hoarse, grating chuckle. " What fortune ! 
 Luckily I know the deft uses of that subtle 
 acid. Ah ! Gideon Vernon, write your will,
 
 52 
 
 it will prove waste paper. Only a minute in 
 which to act, to disappear. Then, unless they 
 suspect, I am safe ! " 
 
 Durand glided to the mantel. There lay a 
 tray of writing materials. Two tiny ink- 
 bottles rested in oxidized silver clasps. He 
 detached them, and poured their contents 
 into the grate. Then, rubbing them care- 
 fully clean on the sleeve of his ragged coat, 
 he refilled them from the bottle of iodine. 
 
 He glided through the window just as the 
 door opened to admit Le Britta, Gladys, and 
 Gideon Vernon into his invalid chair. 
 
 Supreme satisfaction wreathed the sinister 
 features of the plotter. 
 
 Well might he smile, and hope, and wait, 
 lurking at the open window. 
 
 For, upon the substitution of the innocent 
 acid for the ink hung the hopes, the fortune, 
 the happiness of winsome, bright-hearted 
 Gladys Vernon.
 
 53 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE WILL. 
 
 MR. VERNON was showing the results of 
 over-excitement as Le Britta wheeled him 
 into the room just vacated by Durand. 
 
 That resolute eye of his, however, evi- 
 denced that he was determined to carry out 
 the project suggested by the photographer, 
 and after sinking back among the pillows 
 and resting for a moment or two, he said : 
 
 "Wheel the table nearer, Gladys, and 
 bring the writing materials from the mantel." 
 
 The devoted girl obeyed him, with that 
 instinctive gentleness and lack of bustle that 
 evidenced long attention to the invalid. She 
 placed pens and paper near to his hand, and 
 brought as well the oxidized ink-wells, the 
 contents of which had been so mysteriously 
 juggled by Durand only a few minutes pre- 
 vious. 
 
 As for the pretended tramp himself, if he 
 still lurked at the window, he did so too 
 deftly to betray his near proximity. 
 
 " Now then, Mr. Le Britta, begin," spoke 
 the old man. 
 
 The photographer joggled his memory to
 
 54 
 
 recall the legal formula for a will, and Mr. 
 
 Vernon began writing. 
 
 "What miserable ink!" he ejaculated, 
 suddenly and with irritation. " It looks like 
 iron-rust water. 
 
 Gladys did not pay any attention to the 
 remark, attributing it to failing eyesight and 
 the usual crotchety, fault-finding temper of her 
 sick relative. 
 
 " It makes a wretched blotch, looks like 
 brown paint," again uttered Vernon, wrath- 
 fully, surveying with a frown of annoyance 
 the first few words he had written on the 
 white page before him. "Is there none bet- 
 ter in the house, Gladys ? " 
 
 "I fear not, uncle," murmured his niece, 
 gently. 
 
 " I suppose I'll have to make it do," 
 growled Vernon. "Proceed, Mr. Le Britta." 
 
 The photographer supplied the words of 
 the form usually adopted in framing a will, 
 and Mr. Vernon wrote in his bequests. He 
 left all his property, real and personal, to his 
 beloved niece, Gladys Vernon. When he 
 referred to his moneyed possessions, he 
 glanced at a cabinet in one corner of the 
 apartment, seemed to be about to refer to
 
 55 
 
 something there, evidently changed his mind, 
 and then concluded the instrument by ap- 
 pointing Doctor Winston and Jera Le Britta 
 his executors, and guardians of Gladys dur- 
 ing her brief minority. 
 
 Le Britta flushed gratefully at the compli- 
 ment thus paid to him. It evidenced the 
 confidence with which he had inspired the 
 old man, and the regard which he felt for 
 him. 
 
 Always a heart-winner, with his unobtru- 
 sive, earnest ways, the present acknowledge- 
 ment of his devotion, while it placed an 
 obligation upon him, still pleased him. 
 
 "Thank goodness! that is off my mind," 
 exclaimed Vernon, with a great sigh of satis- 
 faction and relief. 
 
 "Not quite yet, uncle," insinuated Gladys, 
 gently. 
 
 " Eh ! you mean ? " 
 
 " The witnesses." 
 
 "True, Mr. Le Britta, you will sign here." 
 
 " Not until the other witness is here," 
 interrupted the photographer. "The wit- 
 nesses must sign each in the presence of 
 the other."
 
 56 
 
 " Uncle, the housekeeper has returned, 
 will not her signature help us out ? " 
 
 " She is not an interested party, she is not 
 mentioned in the will," spoke Le Britta. 
 " Yes, that will save us the trouble of sum- 
 moning an outsider." 
 
 Gladys left the apartment, and returned 
 with a pleasant-faced woman of about forty, 
 a few minutes later. 
 
 "Mrs. Darrell, Mr. Le Britta," uttered 
 Gladys, and the photographer bowed, and 
 proceeded to the side of Mr. Vernon. 
 
 He started slightly as his eyes rested 
 closely on the written page. 
 
 The writing was plain enough, but the ink 
 used was wretched. Mr. Vernon had spoken 
 truly. It looked as if written with the worst 
 faded ink. About to speak of it Le Britta 
 checked himself. Every little occurrence 
 agitated the invalid, and what, after all, mat- 
 tered obscure ink, so that it made a legible 
 record. 
 
 He signed his name as witness, the house- 
 keeper followed his example and withdrew 
 from the apartment, and Mr. Vernon pushed 
 the document across the table, as if to allow 
 it to dry.
 
 57 
 
 Gladys' pretty face showed the relief of a 
 difficult task accomplished. She was glad to 
 get the affair off her uncle's mind. Uncon- 
 sciously, her nervous fingers rested on the 
 camera a few feet away from the written 
 page. 
 
 "Take care, Miss Vernon ! " laughed Le 
 Britta, "or you'll be shooting off my loaded 
 camera. The will, Mr. Vernon ? " he con- 
 tinued, interrogatively, as the invalid made a 
 motion toward it. 
 
 Vernon took up the document and folded 
 it up. He placed it in an envelope, sealed it, 
 and handed it to Gladys. 
 
 " Take it, my child," he said. " It will be 
 safe in your keeping. Hide it where you 
 can be sure to find it when I die." 
 
 "Oh, I hope that will be a long, long 
 time, dear uncle," returned Gladys, sincerely. 
 
 The invalid uttered a moan of weariness. 
 
 " I am very tired," he spoke. " Draw the 
 shades, and I will try to sleep a little. 
 Gladys, Mr. Le Britta must remain with us 
 tor a day or two." 
 
 " I fear I will have to be getting back to 
 business, Mr. Vernon," demurred the pho- 
 tographer. " I have already extended my
 
 vacation, and there is a convention of the 
 Knights of Pythias, where they insist nobody 
 can photograph their august assemblage ex- 
 cept my poor self." 
 
 "At least remain until to-morrow," urged 
 Vernon. " I wish to have a confidential in- 
 terview with you when I am rested. I do 
 not feel equal to the task, after the excite- 
 ment of the day." 
 
 Le Britta could not very well refuse. 
 Gladys darkened the sick-room, and led her 
 guest to the broad outside porch, where he 
 had the choice of swinging chairs or a ham- 
 mock, brought him some books, and left him, 
 to aid the housekeeper in providing for his 
 comfort during his anticipated brief stay. 
 
 From reading and resting, Le Britta fell to 
 meditation over all the strange occurrences 
 of the past few hours. 
 
 Every element in the case under medita- 
 tion was clearly outlined and comprehended 
 in his quick mind, except one the relation of 
 the young man he had seen conversing with 
 Gladys in the garden, her lover-like com- 
 panion, whom she had called Sydney. 
 
 Feeling naturally a warm interest in the 
 fair, innocent creature whose happiness
 
 59 
 
 seemed menanced by a villain ; he hoped 
 that a reconcilation would take place between 
 the lover and Gladys' irascible uncle ere he 
 left. Then he could leave with the assurance 
 that both had a protector, in case Durand 
 attempted to trouble them further. 
 
 "I do not see how Durand can bother 
 .Vernon now," mused Le Britta, "except 
 through the secret he holds. What a strange 
 fate led me to participate in the ambitions, 
 hopes and fears of these two people ! To- 
 morrow, however, I must leave the field of 
 romance, to return to the humdrum existence 
 of practical labor. I may never see them 
 again ; but the experience has enabled me to 
 do a kind deed, and win new friends. My 
 vacation has done me good. To-morrow I 
 must welcome studio, home, friends and those 
 I love so dearly." 
 
 Le Britta's face glowed with affection and 
 happiness, as he pictured the happy home- 
 circle that knew him as father, husband, 
 protector and guide the ever-gentle wife, 
 the two happy-hearted cherubs who made 
 life worth living, the bright-eyed, intelligent 
 young lady whom he had recently taken into
 
 6o 
 
 his employ under his instructions, to aid in 
 the more artistic portion of his work. 
 
 The bustling, energetic, typical western 
 town where he had settled down in business, 
 was about fifty miles distant from Hawthorne 
 villa. Here Le Britta had been located for 
 several years, from a bare two hundred dol- 
 lars having worked up in his business until 
 he had amassed a generous competency, and 
 at thirty years of age was beloved and re- 
 spected by his fellow-townsmen with the 
 fame of his artistic excellence spread far and 
 wide. He had learned the rudiments of his 
 art in three of the larger western cities ; had 
 known all the comforts and luxuries of wealth 
 and refinement, but when reverses came to 
 his parents, he had struck out manfully for 
 himself, and now, having amassed a small 
 fortune, he thought far more of the good it 
 enabled him to do, and of his profession, than 
 of the mere satisfaction of piling up riches. 
 
 In all this struggle, his noble helpmate had 
 been an aid, a comforter, an adviser, a kin- 
 dred spirit. Perhaps the happiness she had 
 brought to him warmed his heart with noble, 
 generous sympathy for those less fortunate, 
 whom he endeavored to place upon a like
 
 6i 
 
 basis of right-doing and earnest adherence to 
 the principles of success in life. She, like 
 himself, was an artist, and with her critical 
 taste to aid him, and the molding of the 
 mind of his assistant, Maud Gordon, the 
 atmosphere of his neat, beautiful studio was 
 one of high art, rather than professional labor. 
 
 " With the morrow the old life of work, 
 recompense, happiness," murmured Le Britta ; 
 and his eyes closing in a muse of peaceful 
 contemplation, he slumbered before he was 
 aware of the insidious approach of the drowsy 
 god. 
 
 It was nearly dusk when he awoke with a 
 start. Something had aroused him with a 
 shock. He sprang to his feet excitedly. 
 
 "What was it!" he ejaculated, alarmed. 
 " Some one cried for help. There it is 
 again ! " 
 
 He ran to the door leading out upon the 
 porch. As he gained it, in accents of the 
 wildest terror, through the gloomy, silent 
 house rang out the wild, frantic tones of 
 Gladys Vernon : 
 
 " Help ! help ! help ! " 
 
 Yes, something had happened. In a flash, 
 Jera Le Britta, with a vivid memory of Du-
 
 62 
 
 rand, the tramp, of the exciting- incidents of 
 the early afternoon, felt certain. 
 
 But what ? 
 
 He was soon to know ! Something had, 
 indeed, happened ! something strangely ex- 
 citing, distressing, tragic ; and that terrified 
 shriek, repeated, announced the fact. 
 
 "Help! help! help!" 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A TRAGIC HOUR. 
 
 WHEN Jera Le Britta and Gladys left Mr. 
 Vernon to the solitude of the sick room, the 
 latter sank back in his chair with a weary 
 sigh. 
 
 It was true that a great care had been re- 
 moved from his mind by the settlement of 
 the matter of the will, but his eyes were still 
 haunted with worrying dread, and he shud- 
 dered every time he thought of the man so 
 feared Ralph Durand. 
 
 "I have blocked his game in one way- 
 he can never become Gladys' guardian, nor 
 secure the control of my estate now," reflected 
 the invalid ; " but he will doubtless attempt to
 
 63 
 
 persecute me in the matter of the old family 
 secret. He is a desperate man and will try 
 to blackmail me, to sell me the secret. Well, 
 money can silence his lips. Then I shall 
 know some peace again. Ah ! if I were not 
 so weak. For Gladys' sake I would like to 
 live. This new friend, Le Britta his coming 
 has been a rare blessing to us." 
 
 Vernon's mind became gradually quieted 
 down, as he realized that he had a stanch, 
 strong defender so near to him, and he dozed 
 lightly. 
 
 It was just getting dusk, and he was about 
 to tap the little silver bell at his hand, the 
 customary signal for his faithful nurse, 
 Gladys, when he started, and with quicken- 
 ing breath, fixed his eyes upon the window. 
 
 The curtains had moved aside, and a vil- 
 lainous faced peered in. It was instantly 
 withdrawn, however, as Vernon barely sup- 
 pressed a startled, agitated cry. 
 
 " Durand! " gasped the affrighted invalid. 
 " He still haunts the place. The will ? No. 
 That is safe with Gladys, but the money 
 box ? Can that be his motive ? " 
 
 With infinite difficulty the invalid lifted 
 himself to an upright position. He managed
 
 6 4 
 
 to drag the little medicine chest nearer to 
 him. Then, with trembling fingers, he se- 
 lected a bottle from the many that the case 
 contained, and, by the dim light reading the 
 inscription that it bore, he lifted it to his lips 
 and drained its contents. 
 
 "The doctor gave me that as a final 
 exigency," he murmured. " I demanded a 
 draught that would revive and give me 
 strength as a last vital emergency. The re- 
 action may be fatal, but I have work to do. 
 Ralph Durand shall not prosper in his vil- 
 lainy. I will balk his every design." 
 
 Already the powerful potion had begun its 
 inspiriting work. The invalid seemed to be- 
 come a new man all of a sudden. The mag- 
 ical draught brought the color to his face, 
 made his eyes sparkle, endowed him with 
 remarkable strength. He arose from his 
 chair, tottered to the cabinet in one corner of 
 the apartment, unlocked it, drew forth a som- 
 ber-looking metal box, and, clasping this 
 tightly under his arm, he parted the draperies 
 at one end of the room, and disappeared, 
 with a last apprehensive glance at the win- 
 dow, where the sinister face of the plotter he
 
 65 
 
 so dreaded had appeared a moment or two 
 previous. 
 
 One minute passed by two three. 
 Then, gasping, tottering, white-faced Gideon 
 Vernon re-entered the room, staggered to 
 his chair, sank into it exhausted, but the pre- 
 cious box of treasure was no longer in his 
 possession. 
 
 "Safe!" he almost chuckled. "A barren 
 welcome will the sordid Durand secure from 
 his sneaking visit to the villa. What is 
 that?" 
 
 The shadows of eventide were deepening, 
 but a broad flare of light in the west outlined 
 the window frame. A darker shadow crossed 
 it. Assuming form and substance, the hag- 
 gard, venomous features of Durand were 
 revealed. 
 
 This time he crept over the sill and gained 
 the floor of the sick-room. 
 
 The invalid, motionless, watched him. 
 The plotter directed a keen glance at the 
 chair and its occupant, evidently adjudged 
 Vernon to be asleep, and cautiously ap- 
 proached the self-same cabinet that Vernon 
 had denuded of its precious treasure less than 
 five minutes before.
 
 66 
 
 He opened it, glared into it, felt in it. 
 Then, a hoarse, grating- cry of disappoint- 
 ment and rage escaped his lips. 
 
 " Not there ! " he hissed, fiercely, " and yet 
 I saw him put it there this very afternoon. 
 Has all my patient watching been in vain ? 
 No ! no ! I must, I will have at least that 
 much of his miserly wealth, if I wrench the 
 secret from his craven heart." 
 
 Durand recoiled as if dealt a blow, as, in 
 mocking response to his vivid soliloquy, a 
 low, rasping laugh rang derisively upon his 
 ears. 
 
 He stared in wonderment, and then, in 
 baffled rage and hate at the chair, for its oc- 
 cupant had moved, and he saw the keen, 
 glittering eyes of the man whose peace of 
 mind he sought to destroy, fixed contemptu- 
 ously upon him. 
 
 " You awake?" he gasped. 
 
 'Yes, Ralph Durand, I have been watch- 
 ing you," spoke Vernon, in a marvelously 
 calm tone of voice. "You are baffled, 
 beaten ! " 
 
 With a cry of unutterable anger, the villain 
 sprang to the invalid's side. 
 
 " You know what I came for, Gideon Ver-
 
 67 
 
 non ! " he hissed, malignantly. " Speak ! 
 where is your treasure-box ? " 
 
 " Find out ! " 
 
 "Be careful ! I am a desperate man." 
 
 ' You cannot harm me." 
 
 " Can I not ? I can choke the life from 
 your body ! " 
 
 "And I can cry for help. What! you 
 dare." 
 
 4 The box ! where is it ? give it up, I say, 
 or" 
 
 "Hel-p!" 
 
 The word gurgled in the invalid's throat. 
 It died to a moan. Enraged beyond measure, 
 Durand had dragged Vernon from his chair. 
 Maddened with spite and discomfiture, he 
 dealt him a heavy blow, and then, as he 
 fancied that he saw a form at the door that 
 led out upon the veranda, he sprang to the 
 window, leaped through it, and disappeared 
 in the deepening darkness of the night. 
 
 A form had appeared at the door in ques- 
 tion, the figure of a young man. It was 
 Sydney Vance, pretty Gladys Vernon's lover. 
 He had come as he told her he would in the 
 interview in the garden, determined on sur- 
 prising Mr. Vernon alone, resolved to atone
 
 68 
 
 for his past coldness, and heal the breach of 
 enmity that existed between himself and the 
 uncle of the woman he loved. 
 
 Fatal moment ! He had not seen the fugi- 
 tive Durand, but, as he advanced, he made 
 out the gasping, writhing form on the floor 
 of the apartment. 
 
 " Mr. Vernon ! " he ejaculated, alarmed 
 and leaning over the invalid. " You have 
 fallen "- 
 
 " No ! " gasped Vernon. " Struck down 
 murdered dying! I have received my 
 death-blow " 
 
 " Your death-blow," repeated the petrified 
 Sydney. 
 
 " Yes ! yes ! " 
 
 " You mean " 
 
 " Ralph Durand ! Quick ! after him ! ap- 
 prehend the assassin ! There is not a 
 moment to lose " 
 
 " Which way did he go ? " 
 
 The prostrate man could not speak. A 
 sudden rigidity seized his limbs, and he only 
 pointed spasmodically toward the open win- 
 dow, and fell back, the hue of death in his 
 aged face. 
 
 It was at that moment that the door of the
 
 6 9 
 
 room connecting with the hall opened, and 
 Gladys Vernon, bearing a lighted lamp, 
 crossed its threshold. 
 
 Behind her, bearing a tea-tray, came the 
 housekeeper. Sydney saw Gladys, but, in- 
 tent on following out Vernon's orders, he 
 disappeared. 
 
 A frightful scream escaped Gladys' lips as 
 she took in all the bewildering and terrifying 
 scene the prostrate uncle gasping in the 
 agony of death on the floor, her flying 
 lover. 
 
 The housekeeper, alarmed, pressed close 
 after her. 
 
 " Uncle ! uncle ! oh ! what does this 
 mean ? " she shrieked, as she noticed a lurid 
 mark on his brow. 
 
 "Murder that villain," gasped Vernon. 
 
 " And he, Sydney, here ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes. I was struck down. Syd- 
 ney Vance he" 
 
 The dying man meant to say that Sydney 
 was pursuing the real assassin. Oh, fatal 
 weakness ! To the ears of the appalled 
 housekeeper, his last incoherent utterance 
 ascribed the crime of the moment to Gladys 
 Vernon's lover!
 
 70 
 
 "Uncle, dear uncle help! help! help!" 
 Twice-repeated, the frantic utterance rang 
 out, for, with a heart-rending moan, just 
 then, Gideon Vernon sank back dead ! 
 
 It was this blood-curdling cry that had 
 aroused Jera Le Britta, and he dashed into 
 the room a minute later, to -witness the most 
 exciting tableau of all his varied existence. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 DOOMED ! 
 
 LE BRITTA was too staggered to speak, as 
 he looked down at the lifeless form of old 
 Gideon Vernon, and surveyed the distracted 
 Gladys as she folded his motionless form in 
 her frantic clasp. 
 
 The housekeeper, white as a sheet, seemed 
 stricken dumb with terror. The torn curtain 
 at the window, the rifled cabinet, the over- 
 turned invalid chair, the mark on the dead 
 man's brow, the general disorder of the apart- 
 ment, all spoke of crime, deadly assault, rob- 
 bery, murder! 
 
 The incoherent ravings of the frantic 
 Gladys thrilled the startled and appalled
 
 photographer to sudden horror. She wailed 
 out her grief at her uncle's death, vainly call- 
 ing upon him to return to life, praying for the 
 punishment of his cruel assassin. She 
 moaned that she had seen Sydney Vance at 
 the window she recalled Vernon's last dy- 
 ing allusion to him, and in sheer bewilder- 
 ment Le Britta turned to the housekeeper. 
 
 "What does she say she saw her lover, 
 Sydney Vance, here ? " 
 
 " Yes," gasped the affrighted woman, "she 
 saw him fly." 
 
 "And Mr. Vernon" 
 
 "Accused him of murdering him." 
 " Oh, impossible ! " gasped the incredulous 
 Le Britta. " But murder has been done. 
 The assassin cannot have gone far. Quick, 
 Mrs. Darrell ! remove that distracted creature 
 from this room, quiet her, restrain her, or I 
 ft-ar for her mind. I will scour the shrubbery 
 and summon help. Yes, he is dead," mur- 
 mured Le Britta in a broken tone of voice, as 
 he gazed at the white, colorless face of Ver- 
 non. 
 
 He sprang through the window, and for 
 half an hour threaded every maze in the gar- 
 den and its vicinity. All in vain ! If Sydney
 
 72 
 
 Vance had been there, he had mysteriously 
 disappeared. As to Durand, whose handi- 
 work in the crime of the hour Le Britta was 
 quick to suspect, he had vanished as effect- 
 ually as though the earth had opened and 
 swallowed him up. 
 
 He hurried to the nearest house and an- 
 nounced the tragedy of the hour to its start- 
 led inmates. Soon a messenger was speed- 
 ing on horseback for the village, with orders 
 to secure a physician. 
 
 He arrived an hour later, as fast as breath- 
 less haste could bring him. Neighbors had 
 crowded the house in the meantime. Like 
 wildfire the news spread that old Gideon 
 Vernon had been murdered and robbed. 
 
 The house was a scene of pitiful commo- 
 tion, but amid it all, feeling the grave respon- 
 sibility that rested upon him, Jera Le Britta 
 kept his head, and tried to act calmly. 
 
 Gladys, immersed in grief and-emotion, had 
 been removed to her own room. The house- 
 keeper had been warned by Le Britta^not to 
 mention what she had heard concerning 
 Sydney Vance. In his own mind Le Britta had 
 formed a reasonable theory as to the crime. 
 Its perpetrator, beyond doubt, to his way ot
 
 73 
 
 thinking, was the villain Durand. Sydney 
 had come to make his peace with Vernon, 
 had appeared in time to be mistaken for the 
 murderer, had certainly gone to pursue the 
 real assassin ; but why did he not come back 
 to the house of grief to explain it all ? 
 
 The doctor pronounced Gideon Vernon 
 beyond the reach of all earthly ministrations, 
 and Gladys in a dangerously hysterical con- 
 dition. He administered a soothing draught 
 to the distracted girl, and left directions with 
 Le Britta to send for him if she got worse. 
 Then Le Britta sent the housekeeper to at- 
 tend to her young mistress, and it was not 
 until nearly midnight that he sat down in the 
 apartment adjoining the sick room to keep 
 his solitary watch over the dead, the under- 
 taker having arrived from the village, and 
 prepared the body for burial the following 
 day. 
 
 It had been a hard day for him, and that 
 day had scored a most distressing termina- 
 tion for the fair young girl he had hoped to 
 aid in her troubles. 
 
 Tap ! tap ! 
 
 Le Britta arose as he heard some one 
 knock gently at the outside porch door. He
 
 74 
 
 opened it. A man, roughly dressed but 
 
 honest-faced, stepped across the threshold. 
 
 "Who are you?" demanded Le Britta, 
 suspiciously. 
 
 "An officer from the village. I heard 
 about the case when the doctor was sent for, 
 and came soon after." 
 
 " I did not see you," remarked Le Britta, a 
 trifle uneasily, hoping to evade official in- 
 vestigation of the case until he had con- 
 versed with Gladys, and learned of the 
 whereabouts of Sydney Vance. 
 
 " No, that's true. I always work in the 
 dark on a dubious case of this kind." 
 
 "Dubious?" 
 
 " Exactly. Wasn't it murder ? " demanded 
 the officer, sharply. 
 
 "I think it was." 
 
 'Think? You know it! Come, sir! I 
 understand your motive in trying to shield a 
 person presumably innocent, but it's no use." 
 
 "Then" 
 
 ' The murderer is, of course, Sydney 
 Vance." 
 
 Le Britta's heart sank. He was certain 
 that this could not be that young Vance 
 was only the victim of circumstances, but
 
 75 
 
 how to prove that fact, once the hue and cry 
 was raised over the person last seen in the 
 room with the murdered man. 
 
 " Why do you think that? " he faltered. 
 
 "I don't think it, I know it," proclaimed 
 the officer, stanchly. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "The housekeeper's story" 
 
 ' What ! she has been talking- ?" ejaculated 
 Le Britta, in dismay. 
 
 " I made her, and her story proves beyond 
 any doubt that there was a quarrel between 
 Vernon and young- Vance, that Miss Vernon 
 saw Vance fly from the room, that the last 
 words of the murdered man charged Vance 
 with the crime." 
 
 " But, the evidence" 
 
 " Is plain. The testimony of Miss Vernon 
 alone," announced the officer, in tones of 
 pitiless, professional precision, "unsupported 
 by any other evidence, will send Sydney 
 Vance to the gallows !" 
 
 There was a heart-rending moan in the hall- 
 way without, and then a fall. 
 
 And, springing to the door, with conster- 
 nation and alarm, Le Britta saw Gladys Ver-
 
 76 
 
 non lying senseless on the rich axminster 
 carpet. 
 
 She had stolen from her room to speak to 
 him ; she had lingered at that half-open door. 
 
 She had learned all. She knew that her 
 lover, her innocent lover, was charged with 
 hideous, baleful crime, and her words had 
 doomed him ! 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BLANK ! 
 
 THE funeral was over, the last sad rites had 
 been performed, dust unto dust had been 
 returned, and after a stormy existence of 
 power, pride and pain, old Gideon Vernon 
 had gone the way of all flesh. 
 
 There were very few at the ceremony - 
 the attendant physician, Doctor Winston ; 
 the village lawyer, several of the neighbors 
 only. Vernon had lived almost the life of a 
 recluse, and had never been the man to make 
 many friends. 
 
 Gladys had not gone with the carriages to 
 the cemetery. When Le Britta had found 
 her outside the door of the room in which he
 
 77 
 
 had held that startling interview with the vil- 
 lage police officer, it was to convey her to 
 her own apartment again, where she revived 
 only to go through the most poignant hys- 
 terical grief and despair. 
 
 The doctor, again summoned, ordered 
 positively that she be kept under the influ- 
 ence of sedatives until after the funeral, and 
 that the housekeeper should keep close watch 
 and ward over her afflicted young mistress. 
 
 Le Britta was nearly worn out with sleep- 
 lessness and care. He felt that the gloom of 
 the hour would abide with him for a long 
 time to come, and he was glad when the body 
 of the murdered man was consigned to its 
 tomb. The inquest, the commotion, the pry- 
 ing, watchful officer ; all this jarred on his 
 finer sensibilities, and he breathed a sigh of 
 infinite relief as he returned to the house 
 from the cemetery, to observe Doctor Win- 
 ston, Mr. Munson, the lawyer, seated in the 
 library, looking grave and thoughtful. 
 
 At the door outside, too, Le Britta met the 
 officer. 
 
 "Have you found any trace of the sup- 
 posed assassin? " inquired the photographer. 
 
 " None," responded the other.
 
 " Is not that singular ? " 
 
 "Not at all, seeing that a box filled with 
 money is missing. Sydney Vance had good 
 reason to fly and hide with that treasure." 
 
 " You will persist that he is the criminal ? " 
 
 "The coroner's jury decided so on my 
 plain statement. What would a court of 
 justice say with the added testimony of Miss 
 Vernon ? " 
 
 What ? indeed ! Le Britta's heart sank at 
 the thought. Should young Vance ever re- 
 turn, it would be to fill a felon's cell. Per- 
 haps, realizing all this, and knowing that 
 Gladys' welfare was menaced by the real 
 murderer, he was determined to conceal him- 
 self, to preserve his liberty, rather than face 
 an overwhelming, crushing accusation he 
 could not refute. 
 
 In the library, Doctor Winston and Mr. 
 Munson bowed gravely, as Le Britta entered 
 the room, and the latter remarked : 
 
 " I do not know what this afflicted family 
 would have done without you, Mr. Le Britta.* 
 
 The photographer bowed deprecatingly. 
 
 " Circumstances forced my slight services," 
 he said, unaffectedly. 
 
 " True, but they have been valuable ones.
 
 79 
 
 Doctor Winston has just had a conversation 
 with poor Gladys. He tells me there is a 
 new will, and much more about a dreaded 
 enemy of Mr. Vernon, that induces me to 
 take immediate steps, as his local legal adviser, 
 to secure to her the rights the will gives her." 
 
 "Eminently proper," nodded the doctor. 
 
 " Yes, I think so," asserted Le Britta. 
 
 " Gladys says she will be here in a few 
 moments, weak as she is, realizing the neces- 
 sity of following out the wishes of her dead 
 uncle, anxious not to detain you from your 
 business, and desirous of leaving this gloomy 
 house to make her home with your fellow- 
 guardian, Doctor Winston here." 
 
 Le Britta's face brightened, as he realized 
 that under the charge of the benevolent old 
 physician and his wife, Gladys would find a 
 safe and pleasant home. 
 
 He hastened to open the door, as a faint 
 tapping sounded upon its ojatside portals. 
 
 Gladys Vernon, pale, and with eyes droop- 
 ing from long grief, entered the apartment. 
 
 She pressed Le Britta's proffered hand 
 with grateful emotion, and then, half-hiding 
 her face in her hand, sat like one performing 
 a painful duty near the table.
 
 8o 
 
 " We will only go through the mere for- 
 malities of examining the will, Miss Vernon," 
 spoke Mr. Munson, in a kindly tone of voice. 
 " We will read it, verify the signatures, and I 
 will take it and file it in the court, to make it 
 safe from any interference of interested out- 
 siders. You understand ? " 
 
 Gladys murmured a faint affirmative. 
 
 " Doctor Winston will convey you at once 
 to his home. The housekeeper can retain 
 charge here until we decide what to do with 
 the mansion." 
 
 " Dispose of it, close it up ! " breathed 
 Gladys, in a fear-filled, shuddering tone. 
 " I could never live again beneath the roof 
 where my beloved uncle met his doom, where 
 my heart broke " 
 
 She paused, amid hot, blinding tears. 
 
 "If your thoughts are of the accused mur- 
 derer," interrupted Le Britta, "take courage, 
 Miss Vernon ! You know, and I know, that 
 Sydney Vance is innocent ; you know, and I 
 know, the real assassin. Fear not ! The 
 truth is mighty, and it shall prevail ! All that 
 justice can do to trace this terrible crime to 
 its real perpetrator, will be done. 
 
 "Try not to distress yourself over all that
 
 8i 
 
 just now," spoke the lawyer. " Your uncle 
 made a new will, Miss Vernon." 
 
 " Yes last night." 
 
 " Where is it ? " 
 
 " He gave it to me for safe-keeping." 
 
 Gladys drew the same enveloped and 
 sealed document from her pocket that Le 
 Britta had seen her uncle give her the day 
 previous. 
 
 " It has not left your possession since it 
 was delivered to you ? " demanded Mr. Mun- 
 son. 
 
 "Oh! no." 
 
 "This is the same document you can 
 swear to it." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "These are merely formal questions," pro- 
 ceeded the lawyer. "We all know the con- 
 tents of the will, but I will read it over for 
 form's sake." 
 
 Rip rip rip. The somber silence of 
 the room was broken only by Gladys' . soft 
 crying, and the tearing open of the end of 
 the envelope. 
 
 The lawyer drew out the single document 
 it contained. 
 
 He opened it, glanced at it, stared at it, 
 
 6
 
 82 
 
 glared at it, arose to his feet, and uttered a 
 quick ejaculation. 
 
 "Why! what's the matter, Munson?" 
 demanded the doctor, startled at his com- 
 panion's sudden excitement of manner. 
 
 "This paper" 
 
 "The will?" 
 
 " It is no will ! " 
 
 "Why'% 
 
 "There is some mistake." 
 
 " Mistake ? " murmured Le Britta, not un- 
 prepared for strange surprises under that 
 strange roof, after all the extraordinary oc- 
 currences that had signalized his brief sojourn 
 there. 
 
 "Yes, this is no will. Look!" 
 
 The lawyer held out the paper. 
 
 His own face was perturbed, the doctor 
 stared bewilderingly, Le Britta's eyes glowed 
 with dark suspicion, Gladys gasped affright- 
 edly. 
 
 For the page, one side and reverse, front 
 and back, was blank !
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE PLOTTER'S VICTORY. 
 
 "BLANK!" ejaculated the doctor, dubi- 
 ously. 
 
 " Blank ! " murmured Gladys, with incredu- 
 lity. 
 
 " Blank," assented Mr. Munson, turning 
 the paper in his hand over and over. " See 
 for yourselves ! " 
 
 " Impossible ! " gasped Gladys, startled 
 out of her grief by the remarkable develop- 
 ment of the moment. "Uncle gave it to me, 
 I saw it written, sealed. The envelope has 
 never left my possession since." 
 
 Blank wonderment and consternation were 
 depicted on every face, save that of Le 
 Britta. 
 
 He had risen to his feet. His brows knit, 
 his lips set sternly, he stood like one study- 
 ing out a difficult problem. 
 
 " Please allow me to examine that docu- 
 ment, Mr. Munson," he spoke at last. 
 
 There was an ominous something in his 
 manner that silenced the others, and en- 
 chained their attention.
 
 With the eye of an analyst he was scan- 
 ning the blank sheet of paper. 
 
 "A slight discoloration. All form blended 
 into an indistinguishable mass," he half mur- 
 mured. " The fiber unbroken, a slight scent 
 of acid. Gentlemen," to the engrossed and 
 watching doctor and lawyer, "trickery has 
 been at work here, jugglery, plotting ! " 
 
 " You also think it is the same paper upon 
 which Mr. Vernon drew out his will ? " 
 queried the lawyer. 
 
 " I know it." 
 
 " But, it is blank ? " 
 
 "It was not blank last evening." 
 
 "Then"- 
 
 " Wait here a moment. I think I under- 
 stand what has occurred." 
 
 Le Britta left the apartment, and went 
 straight to the now vacant sick-room. 
 
 He took up the oxidized ink-stank that had 
 played a part in the writing of the will, and 
 that self-same part of a correspondence equip- 
 ment which the reader will remember had 
 been handled by the lurking Ralph Durand. 
 
 He returned to the library with it in his 
 hand, placed it on the table, dipped a piece 
 of paper into the contents of the ink wells,
 
 85 
 
 smelled, it, tasted it, dried it at the lamp, and 
 then sat down with a discomposed yet sat- 
 isfied face. 
 
 " It is as I feared," he murmured. 
 'What do you mean?" demanded the 
 doctor, on the keen edge of vivid suspense. 
 
 " Trickery ! " 
 
 "Explain yourself." 
 
 " I will. I noticed yesterday, when Mr. 
 Vernon had completed writing the will, that 
 the ink looked faded. You remember, Miss 
 Vernon, your uncle complained of it himself." 
 
 "Yes, and I attributed it to his failing eye- 
 sight," murmured Gladys. 
 
 "And I feared disturbing and annoying 
 him in his nervous condition," said Le Britta. 
 'The ink he used was no ink, it was not 
 even a stain. Some one had substituted for 
 the real ink an acid, a volatile chemical 
 none other than tincture of iodine." 
 
 " But it wrote," began the lawyer. 
 
 ' Yes, it resembles faded brown ink, and 
 so deceived us. It does not even penetrate 
 the fibers of the paper, and within twenty- 
 four hours it vanishes, evaporates, leaving no 
 trace. I am sorry, but we have been tricked.
 
 86 
 
 The will is no will at all it is mere waste 
 paper ! " 
 
 Gladys looked frightfully startled. 
 
 " Can we not prove that he did write a new 
 will," she began. 
 
 "No," dissented the lawyer. "Unless you 
 can produce a new will, written, signed, wit- 
 nessed, the old will is valid." 
 
 "' And that man, who probably connived at 
 all this," wailed Gladys, sudderingly, "Ralph 
 Durand, is my legal guardian." 
 
 " Oh ! that cannot be ! " gasped Le Britta, 
 realizing the full import of Gladys' words. 
 
 " Yes, it is true. Gentlemen, pardon me 
 for playing the eavesdropper, but I am keenly 
 alive to my own rights and interests. I ap- 
 pear to put in my claim as the conservator of 
 dead Gideon Vernon's estate, and the legal 
 guardian of that young lady Gladys Ver- 
 non ! " 
 
 The blow had fallen the denouement had 
 come ! The door had opened, and a new 
 figure had intruded upon the scene. 
 
 At him Gladys Vernon stared aghast. It 
 was Ralph Durand ! 
 
 But no longer the ragged, uncouth tramp ! 
 Arrayed in immaculate broadcloth, clean-
 
 8; 
 
 shaven, a perfect fashion-plate of propriety, 
 the marplot of her existence stood revealed. 
 
 The wicked eyes flashed triumphantly, the 
 bold lips wore a mocking sneer of victory. 
 
 " You look annoyed," he spoke. " You 
 need not be. I come here in entire harmony 
 with the rulings of law and right. This 
 young lady and her picture-making friend 
 may rave about destroyed wills, murdered 
 guardians and all that, but, under the provi- 
 sion of the one and only legal will of dead 
 Gideon Vernon, I now and here take charge 
 of his estate, and of his niece until she at- 
 tains her majority." 
 
 " Lead me from the presence of that 
 man ! " 
 
 Slowly rising to her feet, Gladys, half- 
 fainting, spoke the words to Le Britta. 
 
 ' Wait a moment ! " cried Durand, in 
 sharp, imperious accent. " You know the 
 plain state of the case. It will be the worse 
 for those who attempt to dislodge or under- 
 mine me. I am master here. I will brook 
 no rebellion. Miss Vernon, I will be a friend 
 to you if you allow me, but, strictly, im- 
 partially, I shall act the guardian, as directed
 
 88 
 
 by the will of your uncle, now locked up in 
 the strong boxes of his city lawyers." 
 
 Dumfounded, the lawyer and the doctor 
 arose to leave the room, as Le Britta returned 
 from leading Gladys to the stairs. 
 
 The insolent Durand directed a last sneer- 
 ing word to Le Britta, as the latter accom- 
 panied them from the apartment. 
 
 We can dispense with your friendly serv- 
 ices after this," he said. "I will have your 
 traps packed for you within an hour." 
 
 Le Britta bit his lip, but did not reply. 
 He was too overpowered to realize it all just 
 then. 
 
 For two hours, outside the mansion 
 grounds, the lawyer, the doctor and the pho- 
 tographer discussed the situation. 
 
 " That scoundrel, Ralph Durand, substi- 
 tuted the acid for the ink, he probably mur- 
 dered Gideon Vernon, he also possibly knows 
 of the fate of Sydney Vance, but what can 
 we do on mere suspicion," spoke the lawyer. 
 " Gentlemen, we must have patience. Doc- 
 tor, you must feign to gracefully accept the 
 situation, so as to be near Gladys. Mr. Le 
 Britta, you must leave for home at once." 
 
 "And Miss Vernon must be left to the
 
 mercy of that monster ! " cried Le Britta, 
 excitedly. 
 
 " He dare not harm her. Trust me. He 
 shall go through the farce of guardianship, 
 but, before another day is passed, a skillful 
 detective shall be ferreting out all this mys- 
 tery. You shall hear from me regularly. 
 We are not done with this knave and assas- 
 sin yet." 
 
 Le Britta accompanied his two friends to 
 the village. He tortured his mind all that 
 afternoon for some plan to defeat, to dislodge 
 Ralph Durand. At last, feeling that he could 
 do no more to aid the imperiled Gladys Ver- 
 non, that the doctor and lawyer would watch 
 her interests, that the worst that Durand 
 could do would be to pilfer from the estate for 
 the year that intervened until she had at- 
 tained her majority, he walked back to Haw- 
 thorne villa to say good-by to Gladys. 
 
 At its portals, the housekeeper met him, 
 with a white, scared face. 
 
 She held a folded note between her fingers, 
 which she extended tremulously. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Le Britta ! " she gasped. " Miss 
 Gladys "- 
 
 " She is worse ? she"
 
 90 
 
 "No, sir, but" 
 
 "Mercy! Gone! fled!" ejaculated the 
 petrified Le Britta, as he scanned the note. 
 
 Yes, hours since. The brief note, thank- 
 ing him for his past kindness, told that 
 Gladys Vernon, the orphan's prayer for help 
 and guidance on her -lips, had fled forever 
 from the power of Ralph Durand had gone 
 forth, friendless, homeless, a beggar, to battle 
 alone with the cold, cruel world, beyond the 
 gates of the once-peaceful haven she had 
 called home ! 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 HOME ! 
 
 "So ends the most exciting chapter of my 
 life!" 
 
 Jera Le Britta spoke the words, two days 
 after the occurrence of the startling events 
 depicted in the preceding chapter. 
 
 Once more the tourist, he had paused to 
 view a scene that marked the end of his 
 journey and his brief vacation, at the same 
 time. 
 
 From a pretty wooded vale he scanned the 
 landscape, bounded on one side by a thriving
 
 91 
 
 little city, the buildings of which gleamed 
 white and majestic in the bright sunlight. 
 
 No wonder his eye sparkled ! There, a 
 few years previous, he had come as a 
 stranger. Now, a hundred cordial friends 
 would grasp his hand, and give him a hearty 
 home welcome. 
 
 There, his art, his affections, his whole life 
 were centered. No wonder he seemed to 
 emerge from cloudland and gloom into gold- 
 en sunshine and happiness, for wife, children 
 friends were encompassed within the limits 
 of the town upon which he now gazed. 
 
 He loved the little city for its beauty, for 
 its people, for the success it had awarded his 
 patient efforts for appreciation. As in a 
 dream, he saw it, a quarter of a century past, 
 a mere struggling settlement ; he saw it, in 
 its prosperous present, a beautiful city of 
 ideal homes and temples of commerce, and, 
 with the eye prophetic, too, he saw a grander 
 city grow from this nucleus of enterprise ; 
 he pictured vast industrial palaces, majestic 
 marts of trade, mammoth public edifices, 
 until it had become a queen among the cities 
 of the plain a haven of wealth, prosperity 
 and peace.
 
 92 
 
 Here he must again take up life, but he 
 could not forget the past. Ah, no ! That 
 sympathetic heart of his went back to Haw- 
 thorne villa in sad memory. He knew that 
 his nature would not allow him to forget, or 
 to remain idle. As soon as he got his busi- 
 ness affairs in shape he would return to see 
 Doctor Winston and Lawyer Munson, and 
 learn what new developments had occurred 
 in the case of the fugitive orphan niece of 
 murdered Gideon Vernon: 
 
 Gladys had fled, and the most persistent 
 search had revealed not the slightest trace of 
 her whereabouts. 
 
 In her brief letter to Le Britta, she had 
 thanked him for his kindness, but she had 
 stated that she could not remain under the 
 same roof with the assassin of her beloved 
 uncle, she could not linger, to be confronted 
 with her innocent lover, Sydney Vance, and 
 have her involuntary testimony send him to 
 the gallows. She would go to some distant 
 place, she told him, and would work in 
 obscurity until she was eighteen years of age. 
 Then, her own mistress, she would return, to 
 devote life, energies and fortune to hunting 
 down the real criminal, and clear her lover
 
 93 
 
 from the hideous charge circumstances had 
 placed against his fair name. 
 
 At Hawthorne villa, secure in his insolence, 
 the scoundrelly Ralph Durand defied lawyer 
 and friends of the missing Gladys. He was 
 comfortably ensconced in a well-feathered 
 nest. He had his scheme to work, wealth 
 was at his disposal, but with his knowledge 
 of how surely evil brings its own eventual 
 retribution, Jera Le Britta realized that his 
 hour of downfall would yet surely come ! 
 
 He had packed up his camera, and had not 
 taken a picture since leaving Hawthorne 
 villa. As, now, he neared the neat, pretty 
 house that held all that he regarded as dear- 
 est on earth, he tried to put aside his cares 
 concerning Gladys Vernon, to drive away, 
 temporarily, the conviction that he was yet to 
 become again interested in her destiny, as 
 the loving arms of his beautiful wife enfolded 
 
 *j 
 
 him, and two charming tots clambered to his 
 knee. 
 
 Smiling faces and hearty handclasps greet- 
 ed him as, later, he started for his studio. It 
 was located on the main street of the town, 
 and chosen with a view to central location, 
 accessibility and rare requisites of light and
 
 94 
 
 convenience. It seemed like getting back 
 among old friends to enter the elegant re- 
 ception-room, furnished throughout with 
 neatness and taste, and containing a great 
 variety of superb specimens of the photo-- 
 graphic art. The attractive frames and 
 mountings were a study in themselves. 
 Here, the eye feasted upon the rarely-beauti- 
 ful ; here, were ideals of feminine grace and 
 attractiveness infancy, youth, maturity, old 
 age, of the north land, of the south land, 
 Greek, American, Italian, French, Anglo- 
 Saxon, German, in profile and expression of 
 features all were represented. 
 
 La Britta passed through this gallery of 
 art, crowded with specimens of his own deft 
 handiwork, and passed into the operating 
 room of the studio. 
 
 Costly cameras, and all the accessories of 
 the profession, showed in practical profusion 
 here, and engaged in placing the last artistic 
 finishing touches to an expensive picture was 
 a pretty, graceful young lady the photog- 
 rapher's valued assistant Maud. Her sym- 
 pathetic face broke into a glad smile of wel- 
 come, as she recognized her employer. An 
 artistic workman, graduated from the best
 
 95 
 
 schools of photography, her work was always 
 so realistically true, that she knew that dur- 
 ing his brief absence she had followed out 
 the instructions faithfully he had given her, 
 and would win only the highest praise from 
 his lips, for her devoted watch and ward of 
 his interests. 
 
 " We expected you two days since," said 
 Maud. 
 
 " Yes, but I was delayed unexpectedly," 
 replied Le Britta. " Letters, orders. Here is 
 work for some days to come." 
 
 "And here a visitor for some hours to 
 come, I fear," exclaimed Maud, laughingly, 
 as a light footstep sounded in the adjoining 
 apartment. " He has been here inquiring 
 for you every day, as if you were a long-lost 
 son." 
 
 " Dick ! " ejaculated Le Britta, with a 
 bright smile, extending his hand to a rather 
 tall, handsome, professional-looking man, 
 who crossed the threshold of the operating- 
 room at just that moment, and in whom he 
 recognized his dearest friend, Dr. Richard 
 Milton. 
 
 " It's a sight for sore eyes to see you back 
 again," said the young physician, heartily.
 
 9 6 
 
 Letters and orders were forgotten in the 
 chit-chat of two friends, long parted, for the 
 next hour. Le Britta had requested his 
 charming assistant to open his tourist camera 
 and put the exposures in the developing bath, 
 and an hour later, as Doctor Milton was giv- 
 ing the details of a difficult surgical operation 
 he had just completed, Miss Maud appeared 
 at the door of the room where the two 
 friends sat, with half a dozen glass plates in 
 her hand. 
 
 "Ah ! developed them ? " smiled Le Britta. 
 " I'll show you some of the views I took on 
 my tramp, Dick. Here is a storm effect ; 
 here is a waterfall view, and here " 
 
 Jera Le Britta paused as if dealt a sudden 
 blow, and stared like one abruptly bereft of 
 reason at the plate in his fingers. 
 
 Like a flash, recalling all the eventful 
 scenes of Hawthorne villa, with a shock, a 
 single glance sent the blood to his heart, and 
 checked immediate utterance. 
 
 For, in that single, startled, stunned look 
 at the little glass plate, Jera Le Britta had 
 made the most extraordinary discovery of all 
 his eventful life !
 
 97 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE UNEXPECTED. 
 
 PHOTOGRAPHY is a wonderful art. In a 
 creative sense, it outstrips any other kindred 
 science with the rapidity and accuracy of its 
 operation ; in a preservative sense, it enables 
 us to perpetuate a fac-simile of the most 
 wonderful crumbling antique specimen of 
 architecture. True to its focus as an arrow 
 to the target, it can always be depended 
 upon, when a skilled hand manipulates the 
 camera. 
 
 All this Jera Le Britta had thought of a 
 thousand times. It flashed through his mind 
 now as, staring at the glass negative in his 
 hand, he could scarcely credit the evidence 
 of his senses. Combined with those medita- 
 tions, however, a new phase of the art had 
 been vividly presented the unexpected in 
 the photographic. 
 
 For the unexpected confronted him. A 
 problem and a surprise greeted his vision. 
 A careful man, a methodical man, no wonder 
 that he was deeply stirred ! 
 
 In the first place, the plate before him bore 
 outlines marked, vivid, distinct, peculiar.
 
 Furthermore, he had "never pressed the 
 button " to take that picture ! 
 
 Lastly', the impress on the plate revived all 
 the past regarding- his strange adventures at 
 Hawthorne villa with a rush that overpowered 
 him. 
 
 First wonder, then speculation, then a 
 dawning, thrilling triumph illumined his eyes. 
 
 His companion, startled to silence and curi- 
 osity by his strange pose, studied the varying 
 expression of Le Britta's intelligent face with 
 a questioning look. 
 
 But Dr. Richard Milton's companion was 
 too engrossed in his penetrating survey of 
 the little glass plate to note extraneous occur- 
 rences or distracting influences. 
 
 "Wonderful !" he gasped at last, and his 
 quick eyes sought out every line and shadow 
 on the negative. 
 
 " Providential ! " he whispered to himself, 
 almost reverently, a moment later. 
 
 Yes, truly wonderful, truly providential was 
 the manifestation of the moment. 
 
 For the plate bore a representation of half 
 the table where he had placed his camera the 
 day of his interview with Gideon Vernon, the 
 dead master of Hawthorne villa.
 
 99 
 
 It did something- more it revealed a pile 
 of books, the medicine case of the recluse, 
 and, propped up across it carelessly, the last 
 valid will and testament of the uncle of miss- 
 ing Gladys Vernon. 
 
 " Yes, there it was, line for line, word for 
 word, signatures of witnesses, seals, all ! 
 Plain as day, accurate as the original instru- 
 ment itself, the glass plate bore the chronicle 
 of the precious document that baffled all the 
 evil schemes and pretenses of wicked Ralph 
 Durand, that had been written with tincture 
 of iodine, and, fading out as the schemer had 
 planned, had later presented only a blank, 
 worthless sheet of paper, leaving the plotter 
 master of the situation, and censor of inno- 
 cent, imperiled Gladys Vernon's life. 
 
 What did it mean, how came that picture 
 in the camera? Of a surety, Jera La Britta 
 had not touched slide, button or shutter since 
 the hour that he took the picture of pretty 
 Gladys in the rain-sparkling arbor, where the 
 evil, sinister face of Ralph Durand had ap- 
 peared, except to prepare' that same picture 
 in a dark room with his ruby lamp at thn 
 Vernon mansion. 
 
 His keen memory, however, earful of dc-
 
 100 
 
 tails, stored well with mental history of the 
 near past, supplied the missing link of augury 
 and conjecture. 
 
 He had placed his camera on the table in 
 the sick-room, after showing the invalid, 
 Gideon Vernon, the picture that had revealed 
 to the latter the identity of a dreaded enemy. 
 There it had remained during their long in- 
 terview. He recalled the signing of the will, 
 he remembered how Gideon Vernon had 
 spread the document out for the ink to dry 
 ere he folded it up and delivered it into the 
 keeping of Gladys Vernon, and he remem- 
 bered, too, how Gladys, anxious and 
 agitated over all her uncle's excitement, had 
 nervously handled the camera, clicking it un- 
 consciously, until he had laughingly warned 
 her that " it was loaded ! " 
 
 She must, then, have touched the button 
 at that moment of careless fumbling with the 
 apparatus. By a strange caprice of circum- 
 stances, the will lay just within focus of the 
 instrument. Click ! snap ! the faithful little 
 monitor of photography had done its duty, 
 swiftly and completely. The will had been 
 photographed ! 
 
 The camera had been undisturbed until
 
 IOI 
 
 Le Britta's arrival home. The energetic 
 Maud had lost no time in carrying out his 
 instructions to develop the pictures it con- 
 tained. This one had been among them, 
 and here he had come home with a heavy 
 heart for the complications surrounding poor, 
 fugitive Gladys Vernon, while in his pos- 
 session he unwittingly carried a formidable 
 weapon against the man who had scored a 
 mighty triumph as the king of knaves and 
 prince of plotters. 
 
 Well might a thrilling gladness succeed to 
 marveling wonder ! As Jera Le Britta realized 
 all that his discovery meant, he forgot that he 
 had come home to attend to business duties, to 
 rest and work ere he again saw the friends of 
 Gladys Vernon. He was no longer the pho- 
 tographer, the friend, the father, the husband, 
 the employer every chivalrous and gener- 
 ous instinct in his nature aroused, he was the 
 champion of lovely distress, the rival of plot- 
 ting cruelty, the shrewd, energetic detective, 
 deeply interested in a complicated case, and 
 eager and anxious to wield the new-found 
 power that flashed over his mind like a vivid 
 light, gleaming amid the darkness and gloom 
 of a cheerless, hopeless night.
 
 IO2 
 
 " I have found the clue ! " 
 
 He sprang to his feet waving the glass 
 plate dramatically. 
 
 Dr. Richard Milton arose simultaneously. 
 He stared in wonder at his friend. 
 
 " I don't know whether bromide is strong 
 enough," he remarked. 
 
 " Eh ! " exclaimed Le Britta, with a start, 
 aroused to the reality of his surroundings. 
 "What are you talking about ?" 
 
 " I say that bromide may not be strong 
 enough." 
 
 "For what?" queried Le Britta, blankly. 
 
 " For your nerves. You are either bidding 
 good-by to your senses, or preparing for 
 your debut on the dramatic stage. I say, 
 Jera, old friend ! what's the matter with you, 
 anyway ? For fully ten minutes you have 
 sat staring at that bit of glass, and rolling 
 your eyes, and muttering, and frowning, and 
 smiling. Allow me to feel your pulse." 
 
 " Oh, I see ! " smiled Le Britta. " Pardon, 
 doctor, but I have been shocked, stunned, 
 amazed. If you were in my place " 
 
 "Put me there, then," interrupted the 
 doctor, keenly. 
 
 "Eh! how?"
 
 103 
 
 " By telling me what is on your mind." 
 
 " Good! I should have done so soon, any- 
 way. Yes, your advice will help me. Sit 
 down. I want to tell you a story." 
 
 Rapidly, succinctly, Jera Le Britta detailed 
 every event of his experience since that 
 mysterious day when he had first met the 
 Vernons. 
 
 Wonder-eyed, interested, excited, the sym- 
 pathetic, impressionable doctor listened. 
 Such a narrative had never greeted his ears 
 before. Unconsciously an orator and an 
 actor, the accompanying gestures of Le 
 Britta, the dramatic intonation of a man 
 deeply concerned in the case under discus- 
 sion, rendered the recital as emotional and 
 effective as a thrilling scene in a drama acted 
 out upon the mimic stage. 
 
 When his friend came to the discovery of 
 the hour, the doctor could scarcely contain 
 himself for excitement. 
 
 "Jera!" he cried. "It seems incredible. 
 And you call yourself a photographer ? 
 Why, man ! you'd make your fortune as a 
 detective ! " 
 
 " If my efforts can baffle that scoundrel, 
 Ralph Durand, and restore to poor Gladys
 
 104 
 
 Vernon her wronged lover, Sydney Vance, I 
 shall be content to be considered what you 
 like," responded Le Britta, seriously. ' Now 
 then, you have heard the story." 
 
 "And I have listened to every word of it 
 with the deepest interest and wonder." 
 
 " Then weigh them carefully." 
 
 " I have done so." 
 
 "And your advice ?" 
 
 Doctor Milton shook his head slowly but 
 resolutely. 
 
 "I advise you?" he murmured, deprecat- 
 ingly. " No, no, old friend ! A man who 
 can do what you have done in this case, 
 needs no adviser, your duty is plain." 
 
 " You mean ? " 
 
 "To go straight back to Hawthorne villa." 
 
 " With the plate ?" 
 
 " With the plate, that proves all you can 
 swear to about the will. Why ! with such 
 formidable evidence, what court in Christen- 
 dom would doubt that Gideon Vernon in- 
 tended to dispossess that Durand of his 
 power as guardian ? " 
 
 " But is the photograph of a will valid is 
 its evidence irrefutable ? " 
 
 " I hardly know. Suffice it, that it would
 
 baffle Durand. Produced in court, with your 
 story, it would place Durand under such deep 
 suspicion, as the person who juggled with the 
 original document, that he would either be 
 divested of his fraudulently-obtained author- 
 ity, or placed under the strict surveillance of 
 justice. Le Britta, we need you here. The 
 town needs you. A man like you, with your 
 genial, encouraging ways, brisk, business 
 facilities, and rapid, turning over of capital, is 
 no unimportant element in its commercial 
 economy. Your friends miss you, you belong 
 to us, and to your family, but that poor girl, 
 Gladys, needs a champion. At one stroke, 
 you may be able to frighten Durand away. 
 Go back to Hawthorne villa, I say, complete 
 your chivalrous record by a last good deed. 
 I needn't tell you that. A man of your kind 
 heart and noble impulses could not rest if you 
 thought any sacrifice would benefit the perse- 
 cuted and orphaned. Go ! I feel sanguine 
 you have solved the problem of that innocent 
 young girl's life, in the discovery of the 
 photograph of the last will and testament of 
 Gideon Vernon." 
 
 Jera Le Britta assumed a serious, deter- 
 mined expression. He was wearied. He
 
 io6 
 
 longed for the rest, the comfort, the con- 
 tentment of home, but duty seemed to point 
 the way back the via dolorosa he had come. 
 
 He regarded the pile of orders and unfin- 
 ished pictures on a table near by with a sigh, 
 he thought of the discomforts of a journey 
 with no pleasing anticipations. 
 
 "I will go," he said, simply. "I will see 
 what power lies in this precious little glass 
 negative to pave the way to justice, and 
 right a great wrong. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 GOOD-BY ! 
 
 JERA LE BRITTA went to a cabinet as he 
 expressed his new determination, and pro- 
 ceeded to secure the glass negative safely. 
 That little article of furniture had every 
 requisite ready at hand to pack photographs 
 and their concomitants for preservation or 
 transmission through the mails, and he soon 
 had the precious plate provided with safe 
 coverings, secure from risk of mar or break- 
 age, and encased in a neat envelope. 
 
 The operation, methodical and neat, was
 
 characteristic of the man. He was care- 
 ful in small things. That was the key-note 
 of his success. "A time and a place for 
 everything," was his motto, and, excited and 
 anxious as he was, he made sure of the safety 
 of the negative, transferred it to his pocket, 
 and closed the cabinet. 
 
 It contained an elegant line of stationery, 
 cards, envelopes and the like, all bearing his 
 name in script, a bold, striking signature, 
 formed in a soft shade of red embossed let- 
 ters. The material of the stationery, too, 
 was of the finest grade. The cards were 
 bought to wear and look well no ragged 
 edges, no split filaments. The outer envel- 
 opes for holding photographs were of rice or 
 linen paper, giving a tone and finish to every- 
 thing that left his establishment. 
 
 He announced to Miss Maud his intention 
 of leaving home at once again to be gone for 
 several days. 
 
 The dainty artiste made a wry grimace of 
 mock despair. Her deft, delicate fingers 
 never shirked work, but she knew how 
 weighty were the responsibilities of the busi- 
 ness, how harmonious and smooth were its
 
 io8 
 
 operations with the firm, self-reliant, guiding 
 hand of her employer to rule and navigate. 
 
 " I am sorry, but I imagine you can get 
 through with the orders while am gone," 
 spoke Le Britta, kindly. 
 
 " I will try," murmured Maud, "and do my 
 best." 
 
 " You always do that, Maud. We must 
 deliver all orders on time." 
 
 "But which first? There are some photo- 
 graphs for that man who brought his whole 
 family here. You remember the laborer 
 with eleven children, a mother-in-law and 
 four nephews. His can wait, can they not ? 
 I can have them ready on time, only he is 
 anxious to have them before time." 
 
 " Try and accommodate him, Maud." 
 
 " But he ordered a cheaper grade of pict- 
 ures." 
 
 "Never mind; they may be 'cheaper' in 
 price, and he may not be able to pay as 
 well as a millionaire. All the more reason 
 for doing him a good piece of work. We 
 will make him happy by giving him a group 
 that will speak with life. We do no 'cheap' 
 work here. I make the honest fellow a pres- 
 ent of half the pictures. No picture, for rich
 
 109 
 
 or poor, must be slighted. All must be of 
 even artistic grade. He complimented our 
 skill and reputation by coming to us. Even 
 if he is not a profitable customer, let us de- 
 light in doing a little charity work, and yet 
 make him feel that he is not receiving such. 
 He is anxious for his pictures ; finish them 
 first of all." 
 
 Le Britta had touched upon a point that 
 was almost a hobby with him cheap pict- 
 ures. He never made such. He had seen 
 too many photographs of an inferior quality, 
 to wish to emulate his mediocre competitors. 
 Cheap work, he well knew, meant hurried 
 work ; hurried for the deluded sitter, hurried 
 for the artist, thereby disturbing his delicate 
 equilibrium of touch, and degrading high 
 artistic possibilities. Proper care was always 
 a necessary adjunct to proper adjustment of 
 focus. There must be no neglect in posing 
 and lighting, no inferior chemicals employed, 
 no rude retouching, no careless printing. 
 Art educates, refines, cultivates and develops 
 the mind, and careful adherence to its dic- 
 tates infuses capacity, ability, faithfulness. 
 Those who desire the best results in art 
 must expect to offer reasonable compensation
 
 no 
 
 for its exercise. Le Britta realized all this. 
 He formulated his ideas on this basis. 
 He. refused, as an artist of capability, intelli- 
 gence and skill, with large capital invested 
 and with a proud reputation to sustain, to 
 meet the competition of the obscure itinerant 
 with nothing of these, and make "cheap" 
 pictures. In the photographic art, invention 
 and discovery had reduced the cost of pro- 
 duction until all could enjoy the best results 
 at a moderate price, and when he did make 
 happy some honest wage-earner with small 
 charges, it was a voluntary charity of his 
 generous heart. 
 
 There were mournful faces at the pretty 
 home when Le Britta announced the urgency 
 of an immediate departure, but the soft, 
 gentle glance of his true and loving wife to 
 whom he told all his eventful story, satisfied 
 him more than ever that he was on the 
 straight path of duty. 
 
 "Go, dear Jera," she urged, earnestly. 
 "Always doing good, ever forgetting self! 
 Poor girl ! Do not lose any time in trying 
 to restore her to her friends, in bringing to 
 time that horrible Durand ; and, Jera, if you 
 should find her, tell the poor child that she
 
 Ill 
 
 shall have a welcome here always. How my 
 heart pities her in her orphaned loneliness 
 and peril ! Oh, Jera ! when I think of how 
 happy we are, safe, comfortable, surrounded 
 by friends, I long to give the poor, innocent 
 dove a home among us." 
 
 "Papa s'ant do !" announced the baby of 
 the family, doughtily striving to lock a door 
 against his father's departure. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! more waiting and watching," 
 pouted the eldest, a bright-faced girl of eight. 
 " Papa, it's real mean of you." 
 
 But a royal "trot horse to market" for 
 number one, and the promise of a present 
 for domineering number two, enabled Le 
 Britta to escape with hair uncrumpled, fol- 
 lowed by the serious, loving " Heaven speed 
 you ! " from the lips of the most beautiful of 
 all the beautiful women he had ever met. 
 
 His little hand-bag packed with a few 
 necessaries for a two day's journey, Le Britta 
 stopped on his way at the office of his friend, 
 Doctor Milton. 
 
 " Well, all ready ?" queried the disciple of 
 Esculapius. 
 
 ' Yes. I shall take the train in half an 
 hour."
 
 112 
 
 "And return?" 
 
 "To-morrow, I hope." 
 
 "What is your plan?" 
 
 " I hardly know yet. I shall see Mr. Ver- 
 non's lawyer and present my evidence, and 
 be guided by his advice. There's a knock at 
 the door, doctor." 
 
 Doctor Milton opened the door at the 
 summons. A bare-footed, excited urchin 
 stood there, his great goggle-eyes rolling 
 breathless, incoherent. 
 
 " Doc-tor ! Come at onct ! " 
 
 " Come where?" demanded Doctor Milton. 
 
 "To the grug store. Man run away and 
 wagon got hurt no, I mean wagon ran 
 away and man got hurt. Sent for you right 
 off!" 
 
 " I'll be there in a minute. I must bid you 
 good-by, Jera." 
 
 Doctor Milton caught up his surgical case 
 and put on his hat. Le Britta accompanied 
 him to the street. 
 
 "Some case of trifling injury man 
 stunned or ankle sprained, I suppose," spoke 
 the doctor. 
 
 Le Britta went his way. If he had only
 
 known ! but we never know in this busy, 
 changing, fateful world of ours. 
 
 If he had only known, the barefooted 
 urchin was a messenger of fate. 
 
 For, had Jera Le Britta accompanied Dr. 
 Richard Milton to his new patient, the 
 course of many lives would have been affected 
 then and there. 
 
 Destiny plays strange caprices in the plot 
 and counterplot of our lives, and the man just 
 injured by a runaway, was fated to be an 
 important element in the mystery and mis- 
 eries surrounding the fugitive Gladys Ver- 
 non. 
 
 All unconscious of this, however, thinking 
 only of the clue he possessed and the duty 
 imperative of the hour, Jera Le Britta went 
 his way. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ONLY A TRAMP. 
 
 DR. RICHARD MILTON, when he left his 
 friend Le Britta, proceeded rapidly in the 
 direction of the "grug" store. 
 
 His kind, sympathetic face grew more seri-
 
 U4 
 
 ous as he realized that his services might 
 
 soon be enlisted in a matter of life or death. 
 
 Clean-shaven, the contour of his face re- 
 sembling some of those profiles one sees on 
 old Roman coins, a physiognomist would 
 have ascribed a remarkably even tempera- 
 ment to this young man. 
 
 Not that he lacked fire, only the profession 
 he had undertaken was one the deep serious- 
 ness of which he fully realized. Long com- 
 panionship with Le Britta had fostered the 
 naturally noble sentiments of his mind, and 
 he had developed into a kind, just and honor- 
 able man. 
 
 There was a crowd around the door of the 
 drug store, excited men, women and children 
 were jostling one another and striving to 
 peer in through the windows, while the pro- 
 prietor of the establishment held the door 
 shut and ordered the people away. 
 
 " Here comes the doctor ! " was the simul- 
 taneous announcement of half-a-dozen voices, 
 and room was made for Doctor Milton to 
 reach the door. 
 
 Inside, lying upon the marble-tiled floor, 
 his head supported by a cushion, lay a man, 
 motionless and bleeding.
 
 A glance told Doctor Milton that he be- 
 longed to that genus known as tramp. His 
 frowsy head of hair, unkempt beard, worn- 
 out shoes, dusty, travel-stained and tattered 
 attire, evidenced the fact that Doctor Milton 
 would have to add another charity-patient to 
 the long list. 
 
 " Hurt pretty badly, doctor, I guess," 
 whispered the druggist. 
 
 " How did it occur?" queried the doctor, 
 mechanically, kneeling by the side of his 
 patient. 
 
 " Runaway horse and wagon. Caught 
 him on the dead run, and knocked him 
 twenty feet, I should think." 
 
 Doctor Milton felt the pulse of the insen- 
 sible man; he lifted one eyelid with his 
 thumb and forefinger; he pressed the tips 
 of his fingers until the blood showed under 
 the nails. Then he shook his head slowly. 
 
 " No temporary treatment here," he mur- 
 mured, convincedly. "The man's insensibil- 
 ity is not the result of a nervous shock. 
 Something more serious, I fear. Let us see 
 as to his injuries." 
 
 There was a slight scalp-wound, but beside 
 it was an immense protuberance. As the
 
 n6 
 
 doctor lifted the man's arm, however, he 
 started despite himself. 
 
 From elbow to wrist, one arm had the flesh 
 scraped off as clean as if a knife had shaved 
 it. For all the world it resembled a spring 
 sapling, with a section of the fresh green 
 bark peeled clear to the white wooden core. 
 
 " This man needs long, careful attention," 
 he remarked, arising to his feet. " Where 
 can he be taken ? " 
 
 " You can have my back room,, if you like," 
 remarked the druggist. 
 
 " No, it must be to some permanent, com- 
 fortable place. Have you a stretcher ? " 
 
 " We can improvise one." 
 
 " Please do so." 
 
 Doctor Milton surveyed his patient 
 thoughtfully. He was "only a tramp ! " only 
 one of those poor, homeless fellows who wan- 
 der from town to town, and from city to city, 
 migratory as the birds, and like the birds, in- 
 cluded in that blessed benison "Your 
 Father cares for the sparrows of the field, and 
 will He not care for you ? " 
 
 With the practiced eye of a surgeon he 
 readily recognized the emergency of the case. 
 A fellow-being's life, however worthless, de-
 
 ii; 
 
 pended on immediate active treatment. In a 
 flash he decided what to do, and followed the 
 dictates of his great humane heart. 
 
 The druggist and his subordinates soon 
 brought in a rudely-improvised litter. Upon 
 it, following the doctor's direction, and 
 aided by him, they placed the unconscious 
 man. He never stirred or spoke. 
 
 " Get four strong men to carry him," spoke 
 Milton. 
 
 "Where to, doctor?" queried the drug- 
 gist. 
 
 "To my office." 
 
 " Surely," ejaculated the man, with a start, 
 " you will not burden yourself with his care ! " 
 
 "Will any one else?" 
 
 " I fear not." 
 
 "Then I cannot see him die. Gently, 
 boys ! " as ready helpers were summoned from 
 the throng outside to the side of the litter. 
 
 They bore their inanimate burden from 
 the store and down the street. The doctor 
 leading the way, they reached his office. 
 
 Doctor Milton prepared a couch for him, 
 and upon it he was placed. 
 
 Alone with his patient, he became the 
 stern, practical surgeon once more.
 
 n8 
 
 For nearly an hour he worked at him, forc- 
 ing medicine between his lips, hypodermically 
 injecting stimulants, applying bandages to 
 the great protuberance at the base of the 
 brain. 
 
 "Temperature, pulse and respiration bet- 
 ter," murmured the doctor. " Now for the 
 arm." 
 
 He took up his scalpel and scissors twice, 
 and laid them aside again. He became 
 thoughtful, serious. 
 
 " It cannot be done," he soliloquized. 
 " It is either a well arm, a useful arm in time, 
 or a crippled, torturing limb. If it is worth 
 doing at all, it is worth doing well. I will 
 not touch it till I have considered. Here is 
 an experiment worthy the skill of a Macken- 
 zie or a Gunn." 
 
 Doctor Milton simply applied a loose, wet 
 cloth to the scraped, distended arm. 
 
 " If the man recovers consciousness com- 
 pletely in an hour, the injury to the nerve 
 centers are only temporary," he murmured. 
 " If not, he will die. Ah! he moves." 
 
 Yes, with a low moan of pain, the patient 
 stirred slightly. Then he opened his eyes.
 
 ' I've got to get back there ! " fell distinctly 
 01, the dead silence of the room. 
 
 Doctor Milton hurriedly approached the 
 couch. 
 
 " Get where, my poor fellow ? " he queried, 
 gently. 
 
 "To to that place." 
 
 "What place?" 
 
 " Hawthorne villa." 
 
 " Great goodness ! " ejaculated the doctor, 
 recoiling involuntarily. ' What in the world 
 does this mean ?" 
 
 His mind full of Le Britta's vivid story, the 
 mention of the home of Gladys Vernon 
 startled him indescribably. 
 
 He was deeply amazed, excited, curious, 
 too, but, as he gazed keenly at the tramp, he 
 saw that although semi-consciousness had 
 supervened, his mind was still groping, and 
 he spoke only automatically upon some 
 theme powerfully present in his mind. 
 
 " The papers are all right ! " 
 
 Those were the next words of the sufferer. 
 
 " I had them written by different persons. 
 Couldn't trust one person, couldn't trust one 
 person, couldn't trust one person ! " 
 
 The monologue died in a low murmur.
 
 I2O 
 
 The eyes closed, the man's body resumed its 
 rigidity. 
 
 Of a sudden, however, as the absorbed 
 Doctor Milton gazed, the invalid gave a ter- 
 rible start. The first conscious recognition 
 of his injuries, of pain, seemed to possess his 
 senses, for he drew up his injured arm in a 
 wincing, tortured way, his eyes glared wildly, 
 and he choked out : 
 
 "I remember! I was hurt. Oh! send 
 for a doctor. I can't die, I wont die, with 
 that secret mine ! I'll pay a hundred, a 
 thousand dollars, only save me. I'm rich ! 
 rich ! thousands are mine, if I can only get 
 the strength to crawl back to Hawthorne 
 villa. The secret, the papers ! oh ! hh h 
 h ! " 
 
 Back he fell again, this time like a dead 
 weight. 
 
 Mystified, startled, Dr. Richard Milton 
 regarded him wonderingly. Then, as a 
 sudden flush stole over the patient's face, and 
 his breathing changed, the doctor "examined 
 him more closely. 
 
 "What did he mean?" he ejaculated. 
 " Le Britta, more shrewd than I, would trace 
 a wonderful significance in those incoherent
 
 121 
 
 words. This man will not tell for a time, I 
 am thinking ! Fever ? He's in for a long- 
 siege of it. Well, I'll save him if it is possi- 
 ble." 
 
 The man did not revive again that night, 
 nor the next day, nor the one following. 
 
 When partial consciousness did come, it 
 was to engulf the homeless sufferer in the 
 embrace of a hot, wasting fever, and his wild 
 utterances bore no further reference to his 
 boasted wealth or Hawthorne villa. 
 
 Doctor Milton grew restive under the con- 
 stant care he required, but he was not the 
 man to ignore a duty once assumed. 
 
 "Only a tramp!" he adjudged the 
 wretched sufferer ; but, although he little 
 dreamed it, he was "entertaining an angel 
 unawares ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 FACE TO FACE. 
 
 JERA LE BRITTA reached the bustling little 
 town where the lawyer of the Vernon estates 
 resided late that same evening, but went to 
 the village hotel and deferred calling upon 
 him till the following day.
 
 122 
 
 Exhausted nature played the photographer 
 a sad trick, however. He slept beyond the 
 anticipated hour, and with no little trepidation 
 observed that it was after ten o'clock the fol- 
 lowing morning when he awoke. 
 
 Refreshed, however, by his long recuper- 
 ating sleep, and fortified by a hearty break- 
 fast, Le Britta started forth, his head clear, 
 his energies revivified, his courage dauntless, 
 to enter the lists against the ex-tramp and 
 schemer, who sat like some bird of ill omen 
 brooding over the fortunes of Hawthorne 
 villa. 
 
 Disappointment baffled his efforts to find 
 the lawyer. The latter was at court at an 
 adjoining village. Le Britta decided to go 
 there after him. Then, on second reflection, 
 he determined to await his return, and then, 
 a sudden idea coming to his mind, he started 
 with resolute face and a confident heart in 
 the direction of Hawthorne villa itself. 
 
 "Yes, I'll risk it!" he soliloquized. "It 
 can do no possible harm. It may be my final 
 interview with Ralph Durand, and as I am 
 in no wise afraid of him, I will give him a bit 
 of wholesome advice, if nothing more. I 
 hold a weapon in my hand which may
 
 123 
 
 frighten, unman him, drive him away. The 
 effect of the photograph upon him will be a 
 guide as to our future movements." 
 
 Cogitating over this course, Le Britta 
 reached the villa. He paused at its gate to 
 regard several persons in the garden. 
 
 One was the redoubtable Ralph Durand 
 himself. He was arrayed in flashy gar- 
 ments, and his flushed, brutal face, early as 
 was the hour, showed unmistakable evi- 
 dences of intoxication. He was ordering 
 two servants to do some work about the 
 garden. 
 
 "Rip up those beastly roses!" he com- 
 manded, "and pull away those hideous vines 
 from the veranda. We want no sentimental 
 gew-gaws of shrubbery about here." 
 
 Le Britta's eyes flashed with indignation, 
 as he realized the power of this uncultured 
 boor to destroy Gladys' beloved flowers. 
 Calming himself, however, for the impending 
 interview he was determined to precipitate, 
 he opened the gate and walked up the 
 graveled path. 
 
 " Hello ! " ejaculated Durand, staring inso- 
 lently at his visitor ; "you here ! "
 
 124 
 
 "As you see," responded Le Britta ; 
 quietly. 
 
 Durand's brow grew dark and forbidding 
 as a thunder-cloud. 
 
 " I thought I ordered you to remain off 
 these premises," he continued, in an insult- 
 ing, aggressive tone of voice. 
 
 11 You did." 
 
 " You'd better obey me ! " 
 
 " I have business here, sir." 
 
 " You have what ? " 
 
 " Business urgent, important, personal." 
 
 "Out with it then !" 
 
 " Not here. I wish to see you alone." 
 
 "Oh! that's it?" muttered Durand. "I 
 don't see what ' business ' you can have with 
 me ? I'm king here now. The law can deal 
 with that meddler Vance, and as to Gladys, 
 if you've come to intercede for her, its no 
 use. I'm her legally-appointed guardian. 
 Let her come back and behave herself, and its 
 all right." 
 
 " I have come on behalf of neither of the 
 persons you name," spoke Le Britta. "As to 
 Gladys, she will never, I am assured, return 
 while you are here. As to Sydney Vance ^ 
 no one seems to know where he is."
 
 125 
 
 " Don't, eh ? " sneered Durand, coarsely. 
 
 " No, unless it is yourself." 
 
 The shot told. Durand changed color. 
 He clenched his hands angrily, then, repress- 
 ing the natural antagonistic instincts of his 
 quarrelsome nature, he said, insolently : 
 
 " Well, come in, and get through with this 
 ' business ' of yours as quickly as you can. 
 Your room is better than your company in 
 my house, I can tell you that ! " 
 
 Jera Le Britta subdued the rising anger 
 and indignation he felt with a master mind. 
 He realized the uselessness of heeding or re- 
 taliating for the insults heaped upon him by 
 his half-intoxicated host. He had come to 
 fulfill a mission, and he comprehended that 
 Durand's condition was favorable to the 
 hoped-for outcome of the interview he pro- 
 jected. 
 
 Durand led the way to the room where Le 
 Britta had first seen dead Gideon Vernon. 
 He threw himself into an arm-chair, and 
 frowned at his visitor. 
 
 " Go ahead ! " he ordered. 
 
 "I have come to see you," announced Le 
 Britta "to warn you." 
 
 "To what?" scowled Durand.
 
 126 
 
 "To warn you," repeated Le Britta, sol- 
 emnly. 
 
 " Of what ? " 
 
 " Of your peril, of the future. Ralph 
 Durand, I shall waste no words upon you. I 
 know that you substituted an evaporating 
 acid for ink, and reduced Gideon Vernon's 
 last lawful will and testament to worthless- 
 ness." 
 
 The hardened knave in the luxurious arm- 
 chair had the audacity to chuckle at this bold 
 statement. 
 
 "Good!" he jeered, disdainfully. "Go 
 on." 
 
 " You murdered Gideon Vernon"- 
 
 Durand started violently. 
 
 " You know what has become of Sidney 
 Vance. You are plotting to wreck this 
 estate for your own personal benefit during 
 the term of your guardianship." 
 
 "Anything else?" queried Durand, plac- 
 idly. 
 
 " Is that not enough ? Are you human, 
 to sit there, heartless, sneering, merciless, 
 while the rightful owner of this home is a 
 wanderer and an outcast ! " cried Le Britta, 
 indignantly.
 
 127 
 
 " Do you want my answer in plain words ?" 
 ground out Durand. 
 
 ' Yes, if you are capable of telling the 
 truth." 
 
 "I have the power to order you to be 
 ejected from this house like the insolent med- 
 dler and intruder you are," spoke Durand, 
 angrily, " but I am getting used to what peo- 
 ple say about me. All I have to say is com- 
 prised in two little words." 
 
 "And they are?" 
 
 "Prove it!" 
 
 Aye, prove it ! Jera Le Britta recognized 
 the strong citadel of non-committal and defi- 
 ance behind which this heartless knave had 
 entrenched himself. He did not show his 
 chagrin, however. He arose from his chair, 
 advanced to the table, leaned one hand im- 
 pressively upon it, and fixing an unwavering 
 glance straight upon the face of his sneering 
 companion, he said, gravely and resolutely : 
 
 "I will!" 
 
 Ralph Durand stirred uneasily. His 
 glance shifted. He knew that he had a deter- 
 mined man to deal with. 
 
 " Section by section, fact by fact, I will ! " 
 continued Le Britta, energetically. " I tell
 
 128 
 
 you, Ralph Durand, that, ere a month is 
 passed, sure as the sun shines, I will know 
 the truth of all your plottings." 
 
 " Then why do you come here ! " snorted 
 Durand, incredulously. 
 
 " To prove my words. First and foremost, 
 there is the will. Your scheming destroyed 
 it your deft knowledge of subtle chemicals 
 enabled you to retain your power as guardian 
 of Gladys Vernon." 
 
 " Under a valid, existing will, yes," replied 
 Durand. 
 
 " Which the new will recalled and vitiated. 
 That will is destroyed, but " 
 
 Le Britta paused. He wished his antag- 
 onist to feel the full power of his disclosures. 
 The latter could not conceal his interest and 
 suspense. His lips twitched nervously, and 
 the vivid emotion he experienced began to 
 undermine the false strength given him by 
 the liquor of which he had partaken. 
 
 "That will exists," concluded Jera Le 
 Britta. " I can swear, Gladys Vernon, the 
 witness, the old housekeeper, can swear that 
 such a will was made. A court of justice 
 would believe us. What, then, would you
 
 129 
 
 say, if I told you that, despite your machina- 
 tions, that will still exists ? " 
 
 " I don't believe it ! " gasped the now 
 thoroughly startled and affrighted Ralph 
 Durand, his features turning ashen in their 
 hue. 
 
 " I speak the truth. Word for word I can 
 read it to you. Line for line I can show it to 
 you." 
 
 The plotter began to tremble. He had 
 dabbled in chemicals successfully. Suppose 
 this man, Le Britta, had exceeded his skill ? 
 
 A thousand possible complications ran riot 
 in his brain. Had they restored the faded 
 writing ? Had he blundered somewhere along 
 the line ? 
 
 " I don't believe it ! " he repeated, his voice 
 a hoarse, faint monotone. ' You have a copy 
 - the counterpart of the will itself? Bah! 
 you seek to frighten me. You have it ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Pitiless, convincing as the stroke of doom 
 the answer sounded. 
 
 " You can show it to me ? " 
 
 "I can." 
 
 " Where is it?" 
 
 With a mighty sweep of his hand, Jera
 
 130 
 
 Le Britta brought it down across his breast 
 pocket, and uttered the single ominous word : 
 " Here ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 THE CHRONICLE OF THE CAMERA. 
 
 "HERE!" 
 
 The word revealed volumes. A plain- 
 spoken, straightforward man, in every-day 
 life, Jera Le Britta could inject force, expres- 
 sion and emotion into a word, when his heart 
 was in its utterance. 
 
 In the present instance, he realized that its 
 effect might mean the salvation of fugitive 
 Gladys Vernon ; he comprehended that once 
 to unman the scheming knave before him, to 
 throw him off his guard, to hold him even for 
 one quivering moment of time at his mercy, 
 meant confession, weakness, the possession 
 of those vital facts only outlined now in his 
 mind as vague conjectures. 
 
 Slowly Le Britta unbuttoned his dress coat. 
 As his well-formed chest and sinewy hands 
 exerted themselves, the craven Durand 
 shrank back, physically as well as morally
 
 cowed before the preponderating influence 
 of his opponent's strength. 
 
 Jera Le Britta drew the packet containing 
 the precious glass negative from his pocket. 
 
 Carefully he undid its coverings. Wrap 
 by wrap it was unfolded, until, finally, reach- 
 ing the last envelope and the straw-board 
 sheets that enclosed it, he drew the little 
 piece of glass into view. 
 
 " Here," he spoke, calmly, "is the evidence 
 of your iniquity, the proof that Gideon Ver- 
 non made a will revoking the power reposed 
 in you by a former one. Why do I show it 
 to you ? Shall I tell you ? " 
 
 " Yes," gurgled in Durand's throat. 
 
 " Because I wish to avoid scandal, litigation. 
 Because I wish to give you a final chance to 
 atone for your past wrong-doing. When I 
 have shown it to you, when I have plainly, 
 irrefutably convinced you that it with my 
 evidence will rescind your powers, and rescue 
 this fair estate and its fairer rightful legatee 
 from your machinations, you can resign your 
 trust." 
 
 "And if I refuse?" 
 
 "The law will be appealed to." 
 
 " Show your boasted proofs ! "
 
 132 
 
 "I will. Behold!" 
 
 Advancing to within two feet of the gaping, 
 trembling Durand, the photographer placed 
 the glass negative so that the light could 
 shine through it. 
 
 In brief, terse sentences he related how it 
 had come into his possession. In calm, 
 measured tones he followed the craven's 
 eyes, and read the chronicle of the camera. 
 
 It was a strange repetition of the last will 
 and testament of dead Gideon Vernon. The 
 schemer stared, listened, trembled. He was 
 a bold, defiant knave when he held the reins 
 of power, but just now he seemed to realize 
 the weakness of his position. 
 
 The effect of the revelation upon Durand 
 was far more startling and satisfactory than 
 Le Britta had hoped to accomplish. His 
 experiment was a complete success. 
 
 Ashen-faced, baffled, criminal Ralph Du- 
 rand became convulsed like a man in the 
 incipient stages of paroxysm. 
 
 " Show it to me ! " he hissed, hoarsely, 
 flinging out his trembling hands. " Let me 
 read, inspect for myself." 
 
 "No."
 
 133 
 
 With one hand Le Britta forcibly pushed 
 back the all too eager knave. 
 
 Not for a moment would he trust that 
 precious article, the tell-tale negative, in his 
 unscrupulous hands. 
 
 He placed the little piece of glass upon 
 the table, slanting it against two books, so 
 that, as a perpetual menace fully visible to 
 Durand, it might continue to impress and 
 influence him. 
 
 Then he strode between it and the baffled 
 villain, who glared alternately at it and its 
 owner. 
 
 ' Bah ! a trick to frighten me," gurgled in 
 Durand's throat. 
 
 " You know better," responded Le Britta, 
 sternly. "Your face betrays you, your 
 trembling frame reveals your terror, your 
 conviction. That is proof one. It disposes 
 of the will affair. I ask you, ere I proceed 
 further, to here and now resign your trust as 
 Gladys Vernon's guardian." 
 
 Durand did not reply. He felt that he 
 could gain nothing by a confession or a com- 
 promise. This calm, resolute man meant 
 what he said. Divest him of power of guar- 
 dianship, what guarantee had Durand that
 
 134 
 
 his next step would not be to land him in 
 a felon's cell as the murderer of Gideon 
 Vernon ? 
 
 He calculated silently the chances of de- 
 feating Le Britta's designs. He realized the 
 full value of that tell-tale negative. Profi- 
 cient in all the quirks and turns of the law, 
 he knew that the negative, together with Le 
 Britta's verbal story of the making and dis- 
 appearance of the new will, and his own un- 
 savory reputation, would evoke the interest, 
 suspicion and mediation of a court of justice, 
 if nothing more, and cause a rigid surveill- 
 ance of his actions as guardian. 
 
 In other words, the negative frightened 
 him. It was a powerful weapon in the hands 
 of a determined adversary, but the old crafty 
 expression returned to those sinister eyes, as 
 Durand recalled Le Britta's story of the acci- 
 dental discovery of the picture in the camera. 
 
 " Well, what have you to say ? " demanded 
 the photographer. 
 
 Durand smiled a ghastly, sickly smile. 
 The corners of his mouth twitched nervously, 
 his brow furrowed with disquietude and 
 uncertainty.
 
 135 
 
 " Say ? " he gulped. " Why, you've played 
 me a trump card." 
 
 "Ah ! you confess that, do you ? " 
 
 " Yes. I suppose old Vernon's lawyer just 
 chuckled over your discovery." 
 
 This was a clever feeler a hint to lead 
 on his antagonist to reveal more that the 
 schemer wished to know. 
 
 Blunt, straightforward, the honest and hon- 
 orable Le Britta was no match for his adroit 
 foe in the line of tactics the latter had 
 resolved to adopt. Confident in his strength 
 and the integrity of his position, he did not 
 discern the trap into which Durand was lead- 
 ing him. 
 
 ' The lawyer ? " he repeated, vaguely. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I have not shown it to the lawyer yet." 
 
 Ralph Durand's eyes glittered with a 
 fierce, sinister triumph. That innocent ad- 
 mission raised his depressed hopes like 
 magic. 
 
 "Nor the doctor, eithex, I suppose?" he 
 ventured. 
 
 " Nor the doctor, either." 
 
 ' Why," continued the crafty schemer, 
 leading his opponent on deftly, " I should
 
 136 
 
 have thought that the first thing- to do after 
 you discovered your vaunted clue to all my 
 guilt and your own superb smartness " 
 here he sneered audibly, the more effectually 
 to throw Le Britta off his guard and distract 
 him from guessing his true intentions "I 
 should have thought that the first thing you 
 did was to perfect your negative, print a score 
 of copies, and send them to the judge, the 
 lawyer, all your friends and my enemies ! " 
 
 " No," spoke Le Britta, bluntly. " I has- 
 tened here at once to see if I could not reason 
 you into the right thing. There is time 
 abundant to attend to all that." 
 
 "Is there!" 
 
 Ralph Durand half arose in the arm-chair. 
 His shrinking helplessness slowly became 
 the crouching attitude of a tiger posing for a 
 sudden spring. 
 
 "Yes, an abundance of time. But, we 
 waste words " 
 
 "And that picture, that half-developed 
 negative, is all the chronicle you have of this 
 alleged will ? " 
 
 " Is it not enough ? " 
 
 " It might get lost, disfigured, broken." 
 
 " I shall see to that."
 
 137 
 
 " I have an offer to make you." 
 
 " Indeed ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " What is it ?" demanded Le Britta, suspi- 
 ciously. 
 
 " I will buy it of you." 
 
 "You!" ' 
 
 " Yes. I offer you for that little piece of 
 glass one thousand dollars cash. Come, be 
 reasonable ! You are concerning yourself in 
 the welfare of people you scarcely know. 
 Take the thousand dollars, deliver up the 
 negative, and leave people to fight their own 
 battles." 
 
 Jera Le Britta flushed scarlet. 
 
 " You insulting scoundrel," he cried, with 
 flashing eyes, his fists slowly closing and un- 
 closing. "You deserve an honest man's best 
 efforts at thrashing you. Enough ! I will 
 dally no longer with you. I take my evidence 
 of your guilt to the courts of justice." 
 
 " No, ycki never will ! " 
 
 The declaration was a ringing hiss. Quick 
 as a flash, Ralph Durand sprang foward. 
 He had but one idea in his mind to reach 
 the precious negative, secure and destroy it
 
 138 
 
 Upon it hinged all his hopes of fortune ; 
 he knew it, he realized it fully. 
 
 His move, sudden as it was, however, was 
 intercepted by the guarded Le Britta. 
 
 The photographer divined his purpose. 
 He met the fierce onward rush of the scoun- 
 drel ere he was half-way to the table, he 
 seized him by the shoulders. 
 
 Ralph Durand was a powerful man, an 
 adroit man, too, in tricks likely to baffle and 
 beat an unwary foe. 
 
 The man, however, who had never weak- 
 ened a splendid constitution with over-indul- 
 gence in liquors and tobacco, was fully a 
 match for a rum-wrecked, nicotine-poisoned 
 adversary. 
 
 Seizing Durand by the shoulders, he fairly 
 flung him straight back into the arm-chair he 
 had just left, with a shock that made the 
 craven's jaws come together like the springs 
 of a steel trap. 
 
 There he sat, a picture of baffled villainy, 
 a huddled-up mass of breathless, jarred hu- 
 manity. 
 
 " You sit still, if you are wise ! " warned 
 the photographer, sternly. " Once more and 
 for the last time, will you resign your trust
 
 139 
 
 as guardian of Gladys Vernon, go your way 
 until the law finds you out for some new vil- 
 lainy, or shall I take that negative to a court 
 of law and force you to do so ? " 
 
 " Give me time to think ! " pleaded the 
 breathless, baffled Durand. 
 
 He sat scowling, trembling with rage, his 
 eyes glaring balefully at the man who had 
 beaten him back at every point. 
 
 Watching him warily, Le Britta awaited his 
 decision. 
 
 Suddenly Durand sprang to his feet, just 
 near to hand was the fireplace, and lying 
 across its fender was a short, heavy iron 
 poker. 
 
 This he had seized, this he now waved 
 above his head. 
 
 " Never ! " he fairly yelled. " If I give in 
 in one point, you will hound me down in a 
 dozen. Never ! never ! never ! " 
 
 He poised the iron missile. Le Britta 
 supposed that he meditated a murderous 
 assault upon himself, dodged, advanced, 
 sought to get near enough to his nimble foe 
 to disarm him. 
 
 The poker swayed aloft, cutting the air in
 
 140 
 
 a swooping circle, until it wizzed like a 
 minnie ball. 
 
 Then it left the hand of the rascal, but not 
 to descend on the head of his unarmed foe. 
 
 No, with a groan of alarm and startled 
 dismay, too late Jera Le Britta comprehended 
 the full, sinister purpose of his foe. 
 
 The glass negative, not its possessor, was 
 the source of all Ralph Durand's interest just 
 then. 
 
 The whirling missile of iron swept clear 
 past Le Britta's dodging head, it grazed the 
 table, straight as an arrow struck the tilted 
 fac-simile of Gideon Vernon's last will and 
 testament. 
 
 Crash ! 
 
 The next moment the precious glass nega- 
 tive was shattered into a thousand pieces ! 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A NEW SURPRISE. 
 
 "You scoundrel !" 
 
 Fairly blinded with anger, the dismayed 
 and routed Le Britta sprang forward to wreak 
 summary vengeance on the sly, dissimulat-
 
 ing rogue who had baffled his skill com- 
 pletely. 
 
 With a groan of anguish the photographer 
 comprehended the terribly disastrous de- 
 nouement of the scene that had begun with 
 an augury of certain triumph. 
 
 Ralph Durand had sank back into the arm- 
 chair, with the gloating, exultant face of a 
 fiend rampant and satisfied. 
 
 "Ha! ha!" he chuckled, jeeringly, "who 
 is master now, my smart picture peddler? 
 Your work goes for nought ! " 
 
 "Wretch!" 
 
 " Let me see. I offered you one thousand 
 dollars for your picture. I would not give 
 one thousand cents just now ! Gather up 
 the fragments, my over-sanguine meddler! 
 They will sell for old glass." 
 
 Le Britta was too overcome to speak. 
 The helplessness of his position, the wild 
 victory of his opponent, the uselessness of 
 further discussion all occurred to his mind, 
 as a glance at the glass - littered carpet 
 showed the wreck and ruin wrought by the 
 well-directed iron missile in the brawny hand 
 of Ralph Durand. 
 
 He glared once at the scoundrel, whom he
 
 142 
 
 could have annihilated with a look. Then, 
 turning, he slowly walked from the room and 
 the house, uttering a single bitter, ominous, 
 echoing word of warning 
 
 "Waitt" 
 
 Ralph Durand laughed mockingly and 
 gleefully. He rubbed his hardened palms 
 together, he gloated over his enemy's down- 
 fall, he chuckled, he capered. 
 
 Long after Le Britta had got out of sight 
 of the villa, he sang and danced, and poured 
 down liberal potations of fiery brandy, little 
 reckoning of a change destined to come over 
 the spirit of his dreams ere many days of his 
 worthless, scheming existence had passed 
 away. 
 
 As to Le Britta, that tramp back to the 
 village was the bitterest walk of his life. He 
 blamed himself for all that had occured. He 
 reproached and deprecated now the blind 
 over-confidence that, tempting him single- 
 handed to oppose a crafty foe, had led him 
 into the greatest error of his life. 
 
 But all that was past now, and, added to pity 
 for wandering Gladys and his keen sense of 
 justice, was a smarting sense of defeat that 
 spurred him on to take up anew the cudgel
 
 143 
 
 against Ralph Durand, as a personal foe 
 against whom he bore an especial personal 
 grievance. 
 
 What should he do, what could he do ? 
 The old will, giving Durand full control of 
 the Vernon fortune, and therefore an undis- 
 puted censorship over Gladys Vernon herself, 
 could never be annulled now. The unscru- 
 pulous swindler was free, by clear sanction 
 of the law, and Gideon Vernon's expression 
 of utter confidence in his power to wreck this 
 royal estate, render its rightful legatee an 
 outcast, and defy her helpless friends. 
 
 Oh ! it was bitter, torturing, cruel, to 
 realize ; and, worst of all, the object of his 
 persecutions, Gladys, was a wanderer, a fugi- 
 tive. Her lover, Sydney Vance, had disap- 
 peared, and the threads of their lives com- 
 mingled in a tangled skein, the solution to 
 which the crafty Durand alone possessed. 
 
 There was lln element of the indomitable 
 and stubborn in Jera Le Britta's nature. It 
 had marked important and vital issues in 
 his life in the past. Just now, it spurred 
 him on to action. His duty was to return 
 home. He had done all he could to ri<rht a 
 
 & 
 
 great wrong, and had failed, but he could not
 
 144 
 
 confess himself beaten, he could not endure 
 the thought that he had undertaken a great 
 task and had failed in its accomplishment, 
 and must, perforce, shrink from the field with 
 drooping colors. 
 
 " I will learn the truth. I will evolve 
 consistency from this tangled complication ! " 
 he uttered, forcibly, and, just arrived at that 
 conclusion, he came face to face at the edge 
 of the town with the village lawyer. 
 
 Mr. Munson greeted him cordially, more 
 than that, effusively. His thoughtful eyes 
 glowed with excitement as he intuitively 
 traced in Le Britta's presence there a subtle 
 connection with the Vernon interests." 
 
 "What news?" he queried, expectantly. 
 
 " None of any great cheer or encourage- 
 ment," replied the photographer, in a de- 
 pressed tone. " And you ? " 
 
 " The doctor and myself have sent a detec- 
 tive to trace and bring back poor Gladys." 
 
 " Has he found her ? " 
 
 " Not yet. Another officer is looking out 
 for her lover, Sydney Vance. Rome was not 
 built in a day. It takes time to follow an 
 obscure trail. We shall have some word 
 shortly."
 
 H5 
 
 "I hope so," murmured Le Britta. "I 
 have something to tell you." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " Hut not of a very inspiriting nature." 
 
 " Your face tells me that." 
 
 Le Britta related his story of the discovery 
 and fate of the glass negative. 
 
 The lawyer looked startled at the thrilling 
 recital. 
 
 "Too bad!" he commented when the 
 photographer had completed his graphic nar- 
 rative ; " too bad, indeed ! " 
 
 " The negative was an important clue ? " 
 
 " Decisive, I should say ; but we won't cry 
 over spilled milk. That scoundrel of a Dur- 
 and is a desperate man, but we shall catch 
 him napping yet." 
 
 "I doubt it." 
 
 "The sleekest rogues forget to bar their 
 doors, sometimes." 
 
 " He is always on his guard." 
 
 " You talk hopelessly." 
 
 " Of finding out something by remaining 
 quiescent ? --Yes. I believe in personal ef- 
 fort, Mr. Munson ; I do not pretend to any 
 particular detective ability, but I am going to 
 try to see what I can do by watching this
 
 146 
 
 knave. For all we know, he has tracked 
 Gladys. He may have her a captive some- 
 where, he may connive at her death. He 
 may have some scheme to later come in and 
 inherit or claim the property personally. 
 The stake he plays for is a large one, and 
 he will win, if left undisturbed." 
 
 The lawyer looked impressed and serious. 
 
 " You are talking sense, Mr. Le Britta," 
 he remarked, gravely. 
 
 " Of course," pursued the photographer, 
 " I am a comparative stranger to Miss 
 Vernon, but I have a heart, sympathies, that 
 impell me to do my duty. I must, I shall, 
 find this poor girl. I cannot rest until 
 I know her fate. I shall make all my ar- 
 rangements to devote a week, or months if 
 need be, in her behalf." 
 
 "In other words, you will personally take 
 up the trail ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The lawyer's eyes sparkled with genuine 
 admiration, and he grasped Le Britta's hand 
 warmly. 
 
 "You are a noble man, Mr. Le Britta ! " 
 he murmured, with strong emotion. "I can 
 rely on you. Command my co-operation
 
 147 
 
 and my bank-account. I feel now that we 
 will succeed." 
 
 Once started on a case, Jera Le Britta 
 was a hard man to dissuade from his purpose. 
 He remained at the village that day and 
 the next, "looking over the ground," as he 
 called it. 
 
 What he learned he did not impart to 
 either the lawyer or the doctor, for it con- 
 sisted of trivial suspicions and suggestions. 
 
 'To-morrow," he said to the lawyer that 
 night, " I shall obtain a suitable disguise ; 
 to-morrow I shall take up the trail at Haw- 
 thorne villa. First, I shall strive to locate 
 the missing Sydney Vance." 
 
 " And not Gladys ? " ejaculated the lawyer, 
 surprised. 
 
 " No ; for she, I am sanguine, is resolute 
 in hiding from friend and foe alike. Vance, 
 on the contrary, I feel sure, is a prisoner in 
 the power of Ralph Durand, or has been 
 murdered by him. Fasten such a crime on 
 Durand, or find Vance and get his story of 
 the death of Gideon Vernon, and we have a 
 tangible basis to proceed upon. Then, 
 Durand once deposed, do not fear but that 
 Gladys will return. She will be watching
 
 148 
 
 the outcome of events at Hawthorne villa 
 from a distance, rest assured of that." 
 
 " The best-laid plans of men and mice 
 gang oft agley ! " however, as Jera Le Britta 
 realized that evening. 
 
 For, on the eve of devoting all his ener- 
 gies toward probing the great Vernon 
 mystery personally, that very evening the 
 clerk at the hotel handed him a sealed en- 
 velope. 
 
 It was a telegraphic dispatch, and was 
 dated that afternoon from his home. 
 
 "Return at once," read the mystifying 
 message. " Vernon case. Important." 
 
 And it was signed, stranger still, by his 
 old-time friend, Dr. Richard Milton. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 "FINDERS KEEPERS." 
 
 JERA LE BRITTA was surprised, more than 
 that, absolutely startled, as he perused the 
 innocent-looking message that bore so strange 
 and unexpected a revelation. 
 
 Its mandate, advising urgency, was per- 
 emptory, its wording mysterious. At first,
 
 149 
 
 he feared that it might indicate trouble in his 
 business. A year previous, a fire had caused 
 havoc and disruption of business temporarily 
 in his studio, and he had experienced anxiety 
 ever since on the same score. Illness in his 
 family, too, might be imminent. But, no ! 
 neither business nor domestic complication 
 had incited the telegram, the potographer 
 felt sure of that after a second perusal, for the 
 mystic interpolation, " Vernon case," betrayed 
 the real, actuating influence behind the action 
 of his friend Doctor Milton. 
 
 " What can it mean ? Vernon case ! " cog- 
 itated the startled LeBritta. "Doctor Dick 
 is no sensationalist, no alarmist. He's too 
 cool and methodical for that. He knows all 
 about the Vernons, for I told him. Can it be 
 possible that he has made some important 
 discovery some new evidence in the cam- 
 era ? Pshaw ! that is impossible. Has he 
 found a trace rof Gladys accidentally? 
 Scarcely ; what then ? The only way to find 
 out is to return home. Yes, I must leave af- 
 fairs in abeyance here for a few days. I must 
 learn what Dick has discovered." 
 
 Le Britta took the first train homeward- 
 bound. Late as the hour was when he
 
 reached his destination, he went straight to 
 the -office of his friend. A light showed at 
 its outside window. 
 
 Tap ! tap ! 
 
 "Come in." 
 
 "Jera!" 
 
 "Dick!" 
 
 " You got my message ? " 
 
 " I would not be here if I hadn't, for I was 
 deep in mystery and work. What is it," 
 queried the photographer, eagerly. 
 
 " What I telegraphed you, the Vernon 
 case." 
 
 "Why! Dick" 
 
 " You wonder how I come to discover any- 
 thing about it, way off here, away from its 
 center of operations." 
 
 "It.puzzles me, I must confess." 
 
 "Still, I have." 
 
 " Ah ! a trace of the girl ? " 
 
 " Primarily, yes." 
 
 "You mean that you have found out where 
 she is hiding ? " 
 
 "Not at all." 
 
 "Then" 
 
 " Yesterday," and Doctor Milton drew a 
 newspaper from a table near by, " I chanced
 
 to look over a journal published in a city not 
 a hundred miles from here." 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 " Glancing over its columns, I came upon a 
 queer-reading advertisement." 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 " Read for yourself." 
 
 Doctor Milton folded down the paper, 
 and, his finger marking a column headed 
 " Personal," indicated one of the advertise- 
 ments under that heading. 
 
 Eagerly Le Britta perused the little item. 
 It read : 
 
 " G. V. : Communicate with me at H. V. 
 immediately. I and I alone have news of 
 S. V. Would you save him ? Then do not 
 delay. R. D." 
 
 Le Britta looked up with an excited face. 
 
 " You understand ? " queried the doctor, in 
 an impressive tone. 
 
 "Yes; a message from Ralph Durand to 
 Gladys Vernon, telling her to write to Haw- 
 thorne villa if she would save her missing 
 lover, Sydney Vance." 
 
 " Exactly. It struck me the minute I saw 
 the initials, for I remembered all you had told 
 me about this strangely mysterious case."
 
 152 
 
 " It proves what I have surmised all along." 
 
 "And that is?" 
 
 "That Ralph Durand was instrumental in 
 the disappearance of Sydney Vance, and now 
 knows where is." 
 
 " It looks that way." 
 
 " Durand knows that through Vance only 
 can he influence Gladys to return to the villa." 
 
 " But why should he wish it?" 
 
 "That his future plottings will show. And 
 this was why you telegraphed me?" 
 
 " Not at all." 
 
 "Eh!" ejaculated Le Britta, vaguely. 
 " There is something else ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What? Hello! What's that, Dick? A 
 visitor some one overhearing our conver- 
 sation ! " 
 
 Le Britta had started quite violently, for 
 just then from the next apartment echoed a 
 faint sound like the moan or sigh of a human 
 voice. 
 
 "No listener, no fear of that, Jera, but 
 some one is there." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "The man whose strange discovery caused 
 me to send that telegram."
 
 153 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Le Britta, excitedly. 
 " You put me on nettles, Dick ! " 
 
 " When I mentioned the Vernon case in 
 my telegram," pursued the doctor, " I referred 
 to him. Listen." 
 
 Briefly, Doctor Milton told the story of the 
 injured tramp. He explained how he had 
 come to take him from pity under his own 
 roof, and dwelt particularly on the sufferer's 
 ravings about being rich, about his secrets, 
 and about Hawthorne villa. 
 
 " It startled me, Jera," explained the 
 doctor, "to hear a tramp, a stranger, mention 
 names fresh in my memory from your lips in 
 connection with the Vernon case that very 
 same day. It puzzled and interested me. I 
 watched, I studied the man. For days I 
 have been working over him. This morning 
 I attempted a great experiment to save his 
 arm. To-night, the symptoms of brain suf- 
 fering were so definite, that I fear he is 
 beyond surgical aid, and I sent for you." 
 
 "Then you have made some new dis- 
 covery about him ? " 
 
 "Yes ; early this afternoon he had quite a 
 lucid spell. He made me tell him all about 
 his injuries. When I had done so he
 
 154 
 
 moaned despairingly, and told me that while 
 he knew my experiment might have saved 
 him from becoming a cripple had he lived, he 
 felt that he was doomed." 
 
 "And you think so." 
 
 " I fear it The injury to the brain is per- 
 manent. Then I began to question him 
 about his singular reference to Hawthorne 
 villa." 
 
 "And what did he say?" 
 
 "At first he fought shy of making any 
 revelation. He kept muttering that 'finders 
 were keepers/ and that he was ' rich, rich, 
 rich.' Then, some sudden twinge of pain 
 caused him to think of his dreaded death. 
 He grew affrighted, then grateful for the 
 great kindness of an utter stranger, as he 
 chose to consider my slight services, and 
 then he burst into tears, and said that he 
 would tell me all his story." 
 
 " Dick, you interest me deeply ! " ex- 
 claimed the absorbed Le Britta, startled and 
 hopeful at the same time. 
 
 " He was a tramp, he said," continued 
 Doctor Milton, "and a tramp with rather a 
 low estimate of honesty. A certain night, 
 and, Jera, he named the very night that
 
 155 
 
 Gideon Vernon was murdered at Hawthorne 
 villa, he was in its vicinity. He said it was 
 about dusk, and, as he was just going around 
 to the back door of the mansion to beg a 
 mouthful of food, he saw a man, an old man, 
 Gideon Vernon himself, he afterward ascer- 
 tained to a certainty, climb from the window 
 of his sick-room out into the garden." 
 
 " Oh ! that is impossible," ejaculated the 
 incredulous Le Britta. 
 
 It seemed so to him, for the photographer 
 had not been aware of the tragic incident of 
 the last hour of Gideon Vernon's life of 
 his dread and discovery of the lurking 
 Durand, of the strong stimulant he had 
 taken, of how he had sought to remove the 
 iron box from the cabinet, so that the lurker 
 by no chance might secure and despoil it. 
 
 "The tramp is positive," continued the 
 doctor. " He says his curiosity was evoked, 
 and he hid and then followed Mr. Vernon. 
 His cupidity was aroused as he saw him open 
 the cover of the box, and a royal store of 
 jewels and bank-notes showed. Mr. Vernon 
 hurried through the garden, reach the ravine 
 behind it, and suddenly disappeared behind 
 a rock. By some secret ledge unknown to
 
 156 
 
 the tramp, he reached a spot down the cliff- 
 side. The tramp marked the place the 
 rock, the shelf of stone. Mr. Vernon re- 
 turned empty-handed. He could scarcely 
 stagger back to the house for weakness. 
 Evidently fearing Durand, he had hidden, 
 his available treasure. The tramp still fol- 
 lowed him. He saw him return to the house. 
 The next morning he came to locate the 
 ravine, intent upon finding the treasure. 
 Then he heard of Mr. Vernon's murder. It 
 frightened him. Here he was, a suspicious 
 character, hanging around the villa. They 
 might suspect him." 
 
 "What did he do?" 
 
 " Fled from the place ; first, however, care- 
 fully noting the spot in the vicinity of which 
 the little iron box had surely been secreted. 
 Mr. Vernon had died with the secret of its 
 hiding-place locked in his breast. The tramp 
 felt that he had a right to it. He decided to 
 remain away until the 'murder-scare,' as he 
 termed it, was over. Then he would return, 
 secure it, and enjoy a fortune which, to his 
 loose code of morals, came under the head- 
 ing, 'finders keepers." 1 
 
 Jera Le Britta was deeply startled at this
 
 157 
 
 graphic narrative. He realized how reason- 
 able it all was. But what did the box con- 
 tain ? \Vas it really valuable ? 
 
 "The tramp," began Doctor Milton again, 
 "then told me that this box he could direct 
 me to. He bequeathed it to me, if he died. 
 I smiled at the idea of consenting to receive 
 other people's money, but I knew how glad 
 you would be to secure even this faint clue to 
 a new complication in a case that so inter- 
 ested you. About to tell me something 
 more, the tramp fell back, insensible, again. 
 He cannot stand many more of these fainting 
 shocks. I thought it best to send for you, 
 and telegraphed you." 
 
 "And the man?" 
 
 " Has lain in a state of coma ever since." 
 
 " With his secret half told ? " 
 
 "As you know." 
 
 " Doctor," spoke ^Le Britta, energetically, 
 " you must revive him ! " 
 
 " It may be impossible." 
 
 "Temporarily?" 
 
 "I can try it." 
 
 " He must tell us definitely where that box 
 is hidden ! " 
 
 Doctor Milton took up a medicine case,
 
 extracted a small, delicate, hypodermic 
 syringe, and filled it with some colorless 
 liquid from a phial. 
 
 " Come," he said, " I will try to revive the 
 man. I will try to secure the secret of the 
 hiding-place of Gideon Vernon's box of val- 
 uables." 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 THE TRAMP'S SECRET. 
 
 NOISELESSLY Dr. Richard Milton and his 
 companion entered the sick-room. 
 
 Jera Le Britta stood curiously viewing the 
 outlined form upon the couch. As the doctor 
 carefully turned up the lamp, its rays plainly 
 illumined the object that centered the atten- 
 tion of the photographer. 
 
 The face of the tramp-patient was white 
 and bloodless, his unkempt shock of hair and 
 straggling beard looked not at all confidence- 
 inspiring, but from a survey of his features 
 to his injured arm, Le Britta gazed with 
 wildly-distended eyes. 
 
 That arm was strapped at wrist and 
 shoulder across an iron frame. It was bare 
 save for a piece of almost invisible gauze,
 
 159 
 
 saturated with some oily wash, and it looked 
 like a mottled checker-board in its strange, 
 puzzling appearance. 
 
 " Why ! Dick ! " murmured Le Britta, 
 "that arm" 
 
 "Was the injured member. It was in a 
 shape that no ordinary surgical care could 
 adjust. It was either amputation or a crip- 
 pled member for life, so I set myself to work 
 to experiment." 
 
 "You mean?" 
 
 " Skin-grafting." 
 
 Le Britta started intelligently. 
 
 "Yes," continued Doctor Milton, his face 
 kindling with professional pride and confi- 
 dence, " I wanted to save the poor fellow 
 months of suffering. Yesterday I gave out 
 through the town what I intended to do. 
 Humanity and curiosity alike brought me all 
 the people I needed. From each I took an 
 inch 0f cuticle, and transplanted it in patches 
 on my patient's arm. You see how it is cov- 
 ered ? I have given him what nature cannot 
 supply in this instance, a new cuticle, consist- 
 ing of one hundred and forty-two adhesive 
 plasters of other people's skin farmers' 
 cuticle, ministers' cuticle, girls' cuticle, boys'
 
 i6o 
 
 cuticle ; a mixture, but all necessary. If the 
 man recovers, he will owe his perfect arm to 
 the kindness of a large number of fellow- 
 beings. If there is a moral as well as a 
 physical transplanting, may be he will assimi- 
 late some better qualities in that sadly-neg- 
 lected nature of his." 
 
 Jera Le Britta did not reply to his friend's 
 half-jocular exordium. He admitted and ap- 
 preciated his genius, and marveled at the 
 deftness that admitted of his scientifically 
 supplying a man denuded of vital accessories 
 to perfect cuticle-exudation, with a practically 
 new set of pores to his skin. 
 
 He watched silently as the doctor bared 
 the other arm of the patient, applied the 
 point of the tiny glass instrument in his 
 hand, and hypodermically injected a powerful 
 stimulant into the laggard veins. 
 
 The sufferer on the couch winced, shrank 
 and moaned. Watched breathlessly by doc- 
 tor and photographer, his lips began to 
 twitch, his eyelids quivered. 
 
 There was a noticeable dilation of the nos- 
 trils, his pulse quickened, his respirations 
 grew faster, he sighed, opened his eyes, fixed 
 them on vacancy, then on the doctor, and
 
 then, an expression of mingled horror and 
 concern on his homely features, he gasped 
 out 
 
 "I've got to die ! " 
 
 "Calmly, my friend, calmly!" urged the 
 doctor in gentle tones. ' You are doing re- 
 markably well." 
 
 "Yes, but this weight on my head this 
 horrible throbbing ! No ! no ! I am doomed. 
 Doctor, I didn't tell you" 
 
 " Do not concern yourself about anything. 
 Think placidly, talk slowly." 
 
 " Yes, but maybe I have only a few min- 
 utes to live ! " shuddered the tramp. " No, 
 yours was the first kind hand lifted to aid me 
 in the long years, the first unselfish act from 
 the heart. You shall be rich rich ! In the 
 sole of my left shoe the paper that tells 
 the secret the hiding place " 
 
 Fainter and fainter sounded the gasping 
 voice. The man's eyes closed spasmodically, 
 his breath came short and labored. 
 
 " Wait ! " murmured Doctor Milton, man- 
 datorily, as Le Britta moved to leave the. 
 room. 
 
 " Ah ! I forgot." Again the sufferer started 
 up, this time a piteous, haunted expression
 
 ,162 
 
 on his face. " Doctor ! they can't drag me 
 into the net for murder if I didn't do it, can 
 they ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, my poor fellow/' 
 
 " And if I tell you, to unburden my coward 
 conscience, and I should happen to live, they 
 can't say it was a lie, and, as I was there, I 
 must have done the murder myself, the mur- 
 der of that old man, Gideon Vernon ? " 
 
 " Mercy ! what is all this ? " gasped the 
 startled Le Britta. 
 
 " No ! no I " urged the doctor, soothingly, 
 "tell me what it is. You saw him killed?" 
 
 " Yes. I was at the veranda, watching. 
 A man stole in at the window, I saw him. 
 Another young man came in to find the old 
 man dying a minute later, but he did not do 
 the deed. He ran after the real murderer, 
 the man dressed as a tramp." 
 
 " Ah ! Ralph Durand ! " ejaculated Le 
 Britta. "Do you hear, Dick? This man's 
 evidence would hang Ralph Durand ! " 
 
 "Hang? no, they sha'n't hang me ! Who 
 are you ? " shrieked the tramp, for the first 
 time noticing Le Britta. " Save me, doctor! 
 save me, save "
 
 1 63 
 
 He sank back. Rigid, lifeless, he lay upon 
 the couch. 
 
 ''Is he dying, Dick?" breathed Le Britta, 
 anxiously. 
 
 "No, but I fear" -began Doctor Milton, 
 gravely. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " These fainting shocks weaken him. Ah ! 
 I feared it ! the fever again." 
 
 " If he could only be revived to recognize 
 Ralph Durand ? " 
 
 " Impossible. I will not have him dis- 
 turbed again. His life, his reason quiver in 
 the balance even now. I do not know if I 
 can save him, but I will try." 
 
 "Try, try, indeed!" urged the photog- 
 rapher, earnestly. " For his own sake, for 
 Gladys Vernon's sake, for he, he alone knows 
 the hand that struck down Gideon Vernon ! " 
 
 The doctor watched his patient for some 
 moments. Then he went out into the next 
 apartment, whither Le Britta had preceded 
 him. 
 
 In his hand he bore one of the shoes which 
 belonged to the tramp. 
 
 "Oh! the paper he talked about, the 
 secret document that tells where the box of
 
 164 
 
 treasure is hidden ! " exclaimed Le Britta, 
 interested. " I had almost forgotten about 
 that, amid the startling importance of his 
 reference to the murder." 
 
 Silently Dr. Richard Milton drew out 
 some wooden pegs from the worn sole of the 
 tramp's shoe. 
 
 " Here it is," he announced, taking out a 
 flat, folded envelope. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE MISSING LINK. 
 
 "WHAT is it?" queried Le Britta, pressing 
 eagerly forward to the side of his companion. 
 
 " So far, only a dirty, wrinkled heavy ma- 
 nilla envelope. 
 
 " But it has some kind of an inclosure." 
 
 " I shall soon learn." 
 
 Le Britta was beginning to get excited. 
 
 That day had held so many startling epi- 
 sodes in store for him, that he felt neither 
 hunger nor fatigue. He could not but recog- 
 nize the strange fatuity of circumstance. Here 
 he had been delving at Hawthorne villa for 
 facts, and his friend, miles distant, had dis-
 
 covered clues that seemingly encompassed 
 the most vital issues of the case in hand. 
 
 If the outcome of these revelations were 
 ample, and as expected, the fortunes of 
 Gladys Vernon would soon be bettered and 
 brightened. 
 
 Arranging them in order, Jera Le Britta 
 realized that he had three distinct points of 
 vantage on which to base new operations. 
 
 First, the advertisement for Gladys Ver- 
 non, showing conclusively that Ralph Durand 
 knew positively of the whereabouts of her 
 accused lover, Sydney Vance. 
 
 Second, the evidence of the dying tramp, 
 proving indubitably the guilt of Ralph Du- 
 rand as the assassin of Gideon Vernon. 
 
 Third, the possession of the document or 
 documents secreted in the sole of the tramp's 
 shoe, referring, without question, to a certain 
 iron box, containing, possibly, the bulk of 
 dead Gideon Vernon's ready-cash fortune. 
 
 Documents these were, or, rather, slips of 
 paper, three in number. From the envelope, 
 creased and crushed from heavy foot-press- 
 ure, the doctor now drew three half-sheets of 
 writing-paper.
 
 1 66 
 
 The first was a rude scrawl, evidently in- 
 dited at the tramp's instigation. 
 
 Deciphered, it read 
 
 " I, Dave Wharton, have made a big dis- 
 covery a box of gold and jewels. Finders 
 keepers, as the owner is dead. I get a man 
 to write this at Dalton, because I might for- 
 get." 
 
 Dalton was the first town west of Haw- 
 thorne villa. Here the tramp, in his flight 
 from the scene of the murder, had evidently 
 induced some stranger to scrawl the mes- 
 sage. 
 
 The second piece of paper was in a totally 
 different handwriting. It ran : 
 
 " Go to the villa. I know where. Then 
 down the road to where a path strikes the 
 ravine. This is written at Springford. I 
 don't let anybody know the whole affair ex- 
 cept myself, so I get my secret written in 
 sections." 
 
 " Do you see ! " exclaimed Doctor Milton, 
 looking up. " He was quite clever. Fear- 
 ing he might forget the description of the 
 place where he saw the iron box hidden, he 
 had different people write according to his 
 dictation. The last piece of paper, written
 
 167 
 
 at the next town on his tramp, will probably 
 complete the description of the hiding-place 
 of the treasure. Yes, here it is." 
 
 The third strip of paper began : 
 
 " You go down the ravine north, until you 
 come to a large " 
 
 There the chronicle stopped, abruptly, def- 
 initely. 
 
 " Go on ! " urged the interested Le Britta. 
 
 'There is no more to go on with," replied 
 Doctor Milton. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " The rest of the writing is obliterated." 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " Yes, see ? " 
 
 "Too bad!" 
 
 Le Britta observed that the pencil marks, 
 in the remainder of the sheet, had become a 
 blur of vagueness. The tramp had trusted 
 his precious secret to rather an unsafe place 
 of hiding. Dampness had penetrated the 
 thin sole of his shoe, it had, too, reached the 
 inclosure in the envelope. 
 
 " I declare, this is provoking," commented 
 Le Britta. 
 
 " Well, don't fret about it," enjoined the 
 doctor, philosophically. " It may not be so
 
 1 68 
 
 difficult to find by inquiry who wrote the last 
 scrawl for the tramp ; besides, you have a 
 pretty fair idea that somewhere in the ravine 
 near Hawthorne villa that treasure-box is 
 hidden." 
 
 " You . have no idea of the curves and 
 windings of that same ravine," replied Le 
 Britta, " or you would think as soon of hunt- 
 ing for a needle in a hay-stack as for a little 
 iron box among the innumerable boulders 
 and fissures of the ravine in question." 
 
 " Then let us assume that this last disfig- 
 ured scrawl the tramp had written at the 
 third town west of Hawthorne villa." 
 
 " Well, suppose that ? " 
 
 " When you have time, go there. Cross- 
 ville is a small settlement. You can easily 
 get a trace of the tramp's visit, locate the 
 man who wrote the note for him, and get him 
 to repeat its contents." 
 
 " If he remembers the same." 
 
 " He probably will. See here, Le Britta ! 
 I imagine we've had enough excitement for 
 one night. It is getting very late. We both 
 need sleep. - My whole efforts shall be di- 
 rected to making my patient recover, so that 
 his evidence may convict Ralph Durand of
 
 the murder of Gideon Vernon. Your im- 
 petuous nature will probably not allow you 
 to rest until you have found this mysterious 
 hidden box. You can't do anything more 
 to-night. Go home, and we will have 
 another talk over the affair in the morning." 
 
 " Good advice, Dick ! I'm off. You've 
 made a great discovery, old friend, and I be- 
 gin to see the light at the end of all this plot 
 and mystery at last, thanks to you ! " 
 
 "Thanks to the tramp, you mean, Jera." 
 
 "As you like, only the facts are there all 
 the same." 
 
 Le Britta started from the doctor's rooms. 
 He peered sharply down the unlighted cor- 
 ridor, as he fancied he heard a rustling sound 
 at its farther end. Then bidding Doctor 
 Milton good-night, he started for the street. 
 
 "I declare ! some one was lurking in the 
 hall ! " he ejaculated, as he saw a stealthy 
 form steal from the lower doorway, and dis- 
 appear in the darkness and gloom of the 
 night. 
 
 He ascribed his fears to fancy, the identity 
 of the lurker, if there really had been such, 
 to some homeless tramp, as he proceeded 
 homeward.
 
 170 
 
 He never imagined that Ralph Durand, as 
 shrewd as his antagonists, might have set a spy 
 to watch his movements. 
 
 If such was, indeed, the case, and that spy 
 had overhead all the conversation in the doc- 
 tor's office, he must know of the witness to 
 the crime, and the precious treasure-box hid- 
 den in the winding ravine of Hawthorne villa ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 ART PHOTOGRAPHIC. 
 
 MORNING brought more mature reflection 
 to Jera Le Britta. A placid sleep, an hour 
 spent with the children at the late breakfast 
 table, cheered and revivified his fagged facul- 
 ties like a cordial. 
 
 He had an abundance to think over, and, 
 in the light of recent revelations, he saw less 
 occasion for a speedy return to Hawthorne 
 villa than the day previous. 
 
 Then, with no clues in sight, only a seem- 
 ing muddle, he was driven to the desperate 
 expedient of single-handed seeking to learn 
 the hiding place of Gladys Vernon, the
 
 whereabouts of her missing lover, Sydney 
 Vance. 
 
 Now, all his thoughts were centered upon 
 Ralph Durand. He was master of the situ- 
 ation at present. Depose him, and subordi- 
 nate details would harmoniously adjust them- 
 selves. 
 
 The evidence of the tramp, Dave Wharton, 
 would convict Ralph Durand. That meant 
 the establishing of the complete innocence of 
 Sydney Vance, and that, in turn, would en- 
 able Gladys Vernon to return home, without 
 the dread of having a sinister foe as a guard- 
 ian, or condemning her lover by her evi- 
 dence. 
 
 But Dave Wharton might die ? Even if 
 he lived, weeks might elapse ere he could 
 appear in a court of justice, and meantime, 
 Gladys Vernon might be decoyed to the villa 
 by the threatening Ralph Durand, and, put out 
 of the way, her lover might be doomed. 
 No ! Le Britta could not bear the thought of 
 lying inactive. He must be at work in the 
 interests of imperiled innocence, and he re- 
 solved first and foremost to try and secure a 
 reproduction of the missing directions as to the 
 hidden treasure-box, and then to covertly and
 
 172 
 
 in disguise watch Hawthorne villa, in the 
 hopes that Gladys might return thither ; to 
 warn and rescue her, to learn, if possible, 
 where Ralph Durand had Sydney Vance im- 
 prisoned, or held under his baleful spell of 
 terror. 
 
 But fate ordained a far different programme 
 for that day. Arrived at his studio, Le Britta 
 was startled with the quick query from his 
 fair assistant : 
 
 " Mr. Le Britta, have you seen them ? " 
 
 " Them who ? " queried the photographer, 
 wonderingly. 
 
 " Four men looking for you, and bound to 
 find you, they said." 
 
 " Why ! who are they " began Le Britta, 
 vaguely. 
 
 "They said they were officers," demurely 
 announced Miss Maud. 
 
 "Officers!" gasped Le Britta, "looking 
 for me." 
 
 " Yes," replied Maud, a roguish twinkle 
 in her eye " officers of the Knights of 
 Pythias." 
 
 " Oh ! " 
 
 Le Britta's mouth expanded in an intelli- 
 gent smile. He comprehended now. At a
 
 173 
 
 point not many miles distant a conclave for 
 the State was to begin that day. He had 
 received an invitation. More than that, 
 friends, brothers of the order, had insisted 
 that he be present, not only to help enjoy 
 the ceremonies and festivities of the occasion, 
 but also to take photographic groups. 
 
 He had decided not to go three days pre- 
 vious. Business itself prevented. More 
 than that, his interest in the Vernon case 
 took all his thoughts from participating in 
 any event of gayety. 
 
 "They are looking for you went up to 
 
 the house," explained Maud. "There they 
 
 
 
 are ! 
 
 Four jolly, noisy friends burst into the 
 studio as the fair artiste spoke. 
 
 " Le Britta ! we've caught you." 
 
 "Sir Knight! you can't escape us." 
 
 Hearty greetings followed. 
 
 " Get ready. We're off on the next train. 
 Stopped over for you," spoke one of the 
 quartette. 
 
 " Boys, I can't go," dissented Le Britta, 
 seriously. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " 
 
 "You see, business"
 
 174 
 
 " It's business we want you to go for. We 
 want some pictures taken." 
 
 "There's a first-class photographer on 
 hand." 
 
 "He don't know how to pose us as you 
 do. No use, Le Britta ! No camera in the 
 State can do such irresponsible fellows as us 
 justice except yours." 
 
 It was useless resisting. He had been the 
 soul and life of too many such gatherings to 
 be excused. Reluctantly he assented, made 
 hasty preparations for a brief stay in the 
 neighboring city, -and had a short consulta- 
 tion with his friend Doctor Milton. 
 
 " I can go on from there to Crossville and 
 look up the missing document, Dick," he 
 suggested. 
 
 " Just the thing, Jera ! " 
 
 They reached their destination before 
 noon. The city was given over to the genial 
 knights, and their majestic uniforms glowed 
 on every street. 
 
 Some twenty members of a certain lodge 
 insisted on having their photographs taken 
 in a group while they felt fresh and had the 
 leisure, and arrangements were forthwith 
 made.
 
 175 
 
 Le Britta visited a photographer whom he 
 knc\v, and whose studio was supplied with 
 the very best instruments in use in the art. 
 
 The latter felt it an honor rather than an 
 intrusion to have so famed a fellow-artist take 
 his place at the camera, and the operating 
 room was soon filled with the score of knights 
 anxious to have a taking picture made in 
 group. 
 
 Le Britta exerted himself to produce a 
 striking effect. The light was fine, the cam- 
 era, lenses and other accessories in harmony 
 with the scenic accouterment of the studio. 
 
 Posing a subject was his peculiar forte, and 
 he grouped his friends with great care. He 
 tried to explain to one stubborn knight that 
 he must present his left face to the camera. 
 
 ' Why, the most striking curl of my mus- 
 tache is on the right," demurred the gentle- 
 man in question, jokingly. 
 
 " Yes, and all your age and hardness of 
 expression as well," retorted Le Britta. 
 " Always remember this, boys, when you 
 have your picture taken present the left 
 side of your face. From long observation I 
 have learned that the right side of the face is 
 the ugliest. It is the false side of a man's
 
 176 
 
 character, it shows all the furrows and crow's- 
 feet first ; the right eye dims earliest ; why, I 
 can't tell, but it does, whereas, the left side 
 of the face is softer, gentler, more natural 
 and expressive. Now, then." 
 
 " Look pleasant ! " laughed a jolly voice. 
 
 " Grin ! " sang out another veteran. 
 
 " Not at all," demurred Le Britta. " Look 
 natural ; that is all. Remember, you have a 
 mind, and that upon your features are indel- 
 ibly stamped your characteristics. You are 
 responsible for these ; not the artist. If you 
 want the picture to delineate what is best in 
 you, think your highest, purest thoughts ; 
 let your thoughts dw r ell upon what is joyful, 
 peaceful and sweet in life." 
 
 Le Britta was careful in posing his sub- 
 jects ; he was equally particular that the 
 proper light should fall upon each face. 
 
 " Ready ! " 
 
 There was a moment of silence, and the 
 picture was taken. Le Britta did not say 
 " Excellent." He knew the photograph would 
 express that word, and the group repeat it 
 when they came to inspect the same, later on. 
 
 Three other groups desired to come under 
 his care that afternoon, but the photographer
 
 177 
 
 had promised to do some work that required 
 a personal use of the camera at once, and an 
 arrangement was made for the next morning. 
 
 " If I can get away from these jolly fellows, 
 I will run down to Crossville this afternoon," 
 reflected Le Britta. " I can get back in time 
 for the exercises this evening, for it is only a 
 few miles distant." 
 
 Crossville was the town that, in the ordi- 
 nary sequence of affairs, Dr. Richard Milton 
 decided had been the place where the tramp 
 had secured the last and subsequently oblit- 
 erated strip of paper bearing on the secret of 
 the hiding-place of Gideon Vernon's treasure- 
 box. 
 
 At four o'clock that afternoon, the photog- 
 rapher managed to steal away from his 
 friends, and an hour later he reached the 
 little town of Crossville. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 CLUE ONE ! 
 
 THE reader will remember, that of the 
 three little strips of paper found in the shoe 
 of the injured tramp at Dr. Richard Milton's
 
 office, one had been disfigured and rendered 
 undecipherable by dampness penetrating the 
 sole and defacing it. 
 
 The tramp, when he left Hawthorne villa, 
 had, with clever shrewdness, stopped at the 
 first town, and had engaged some person to 
 write the preamble, or first section of his 
 secret. 
 
 At the next town, a second portion had 
 been chronicled on a second strip of paper. 
 
 It was reasonable, therefore, for the doctor 
 and Le Britta to theorize that at the next 
 town on his vagrant route he completed the 
 record. 
 
 The next town being Crossville, hither the 
 photographer had come, hoping by inquiry 
 and investigation to trace the person whom 
 the tramp had employed to write the third 
 section or the balance of the secret, without 
 which only a blind search could result for the 
 hidden box of treasure. 
 
 There were about fifty houses in Cross- 
 ville, a hotel, a tavern, and the usual meager 
 array of small shops and stores to be met 
 with in every humdrum, way-back rural set- 
 tlement. 
 
 Le Britta had a very fair description of the
 
 179 
 
 tramp in his mind. To his care, also, Doctor 
 Milton had intrusted the manilla envelope 
 and the three bits of paper it contained. 
 Armed with the blurred strip, presumably 
 written at Crossville, Le Britta set out to 
 locate its author. 
 
 He first visited the hotel, then in turn the 
 stores, the shops, and several private 
 houses. 
 
 Had the occupants seen, several days 
 before, a trampish-looking man, dressed so 
 and so ? 
 
 No, none could recall the individual 
 inquired about. There had been so many 
 tramps around, they could not remember any 
 particular one. They all looked alike, and 
 talked alike, Le Britta's informants averred. 
 
 Had he, however, seen the village con- 
 stable ? He was the man to go to. Eagle- 
 eyed, inquisitive, this official was supposed 
 to welcome the advent of all strangers, and 
 especially keep watch of those whose appear- 
 ance was in the least degree suspicious. 
 
 Le Britta made several inquiries before he 
 located the public functionary in question. 
 He found the constable seated in the bar-
 
 i8o 
 
 room of the tavern, smoking a corn-cob pipe 
 and telling stories. 
 
 Le Britta could stand the pungent odor of 
 chemicals, but liquor made him shudder with 
 repugnance. He managed to lure the con- 
 stable away from the distasteful proximity of 
 the fiery compounds, that treat a -man's stom- 
 ach with about as much courtesy as an acid 
 bath does an undeveloped plate, making 
 finally the proboscis a true ruby-light, and 
 the mental condition of the unfortunate, when 
 his last dollar is gone, much to resemble a 
 blue-print ! 
 
 "I am looking for some trace of a tramp 
 who passed through Crossville about a week 
 ago," announced Le Britta, as a preface. 
 
 "A tramp ? " and the constable pricked up 
 his ears, and looked wise and swelled out 
 grandiloquently. "Ah! a tramp? Just so." 
 
 " Dressed " and the photographer gave 
 an accurate description of Dave Wharton. 
 
 " Seems to me I remember him." 
 
 "He wore an old, faded army cap." 
 
 " Ah ! I've got him ! " ejaculated the officer. 
 
 " Sure ? " 
 
 " Yes. I ordered him to leave the place ; 
 I even went with him to the limits."
 
 "And he asked you to do a bit of writing 
 for him ? " 
 
 The constable started violently. 
 
 " PJello ! how did you know that ? " he ejac- 
 ulated. 
 
 " Didn't you ? " persisted Le Britta. 
 
 "I did, for a fact." 
 
 " Was that part of what you wrote ? " 
 
 Le Britta exhibited the half-obliterated 
 writing from the tramp's manilla envelope. 
 
 The constable examined it. 
 
 "Yes," he admitted, "that's it." 
 
 " You see it is almost erased ?" 
 
 'Yes, I see it is." 
 
 " Can you remember what it was you 
 wrote ? " 
 
 The constable reflected deeply. 
 
 " I can't remember the exact words," he 
 stated, finally. 
 
 " But the substance ?" 
 
 " Yes, something about a big, flat rock." 
 
 "A big, flat rock." 
 
 " And then, a path leading down past some 
 wild-grape vines." 
 
 " Proceed, please." 
 
 "And between two spurs of stone, a small 
 spring. That's all."
 
 182 
 
 "Sure?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Le Britta thanked the man. His informa- 
 tion had been concise and satisfactory. He 
 explained that the tramp had got hurt, and 
 that he was looking up a memorandum he 
 had made, of considerable importance to him- 
 self and others. 
 
 " Then he returned to the city, feeling that 
 he had scored a material point in the case in 
 hand. From the description given, he was 
 sure that he could find the hidden treasure- 
 box. 
 
 A pleasant time he passed with the knights 
 that evening, and the next morning, with 
 quite a party of them, he repaired to the pho- 
 tographer's, to take their pictures. 
 
 "I can only give you an hour," explained 
 the latter to Le Britta. ' There is a dra- 
 matic company just leaving town, and they 
 are coming to have some photographs taken," 
 
 " An hour will be ample time," responded 
 Le Britta, and it was, for he got through with 
 his friends, and left orders with the photog- 
 rapher as to the disposition of the pictures 
 upon completion, just as several ladies en- 
 tered the waiting-room.
 
 Preparing the negatives consumed some 
 (ittle time, but at last Le Britta came out into 
 the operating room. 
 
 "Well, good-by," he said. "Ah! excuse 
 me, I thought you were alone." 
 
 The photographer was behind his camera, 
 and seated near a screen was a veiled lady, 
 evidently a member of the dramatic troupe he 
 had referred to. 
 
 " Lift your veil, please," he said to the lat- 
 ter. " I am all ready." 
 
 The lady obeyed him. 
 
 " Mercy ! " ejaculated the petrified Le 
 Britta, starting back half-a-dozen feet in sheer' 
 surprise and bewilderment. 
 
 Staring blankly at the fair features revealed, 
 he stood like one in a. trance. 
 
 The lady at that moment happened to gaze 
 at him. 
 
 With a violent start, she turned pale as 
 death, and arose to her feet as she evidently 
 recognized him. 
 
 Then, with a wild cry, she reeled where 
 she stood, and fell senseless to the floor.
 
 1 84 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 CHECKMATE. 
 
 THE new master of Hawthorne villa had 
 got up late. Moreover, he had arisen with a 
 headache, the result of too free indulgence in 
 strong drink the previous night. 
 
 The mask of even ordinary civility was 
 down now. Alone, unwatched, the lax mus- 
 cles of his face, the ugly, malignant glare of 
 his sinister eyes proclaimed Ralph Durand to 
 be a very bad and a very dangerous man. 
 
 He kicked over a pretty ottoman, the 
 handiwork of gentle Gladys Vernon ; he 
 smashed a daintly perfume case in his impa- 
 tience at a wry collar, and then, half-dressed, 
 hurried to the dining-room to brace his shat- 
 tered nerves with frequent potations of his 
 favorite liquor rum. 
 
 " There ! I feel like a man again," he mut- 
 tered, complacently, as the strong drink 
 flushed his face and tingled in his blood. 
 " I'm going it a little too strong, though. 
 Durand, old boy ! this won't do ! The 
 master of a fortune and a rare old establish- 
 ment, like Hawthorne villa, must go slow,
 
 1*5 
 
 respectable-like. Just now, pure dash and 
 defiance have made every one in sight take 
 to flight or concealment, but they may mass 
 their forces anew. Yes, I need to be wary, 
 vigilant, indomitable. If I drink too much I 
 may get careless, I may be taken unawares. 
 I must have a cool head, iron nerves, a never- 
 sleeping eye. No more drink in excess, old 
 boy! until I perfect my plans." 
 
 Restored to good humor, Ralph Durand 
 called the villainous-looking fellow he had 
 appointed steward, gave his orders for the 
 day, ate an ample breakfast, and, arraying 
 himself in the loudest suit he possessed, 
 started to walk toward the distant village. 
 
 "I'll wake them up I'll bring that old 
 fogy of a family lawyer to his senses ! " he 
 muttered. " No time like now. Gladys has 
 been scared away I know how to bring her 
 back. She must come back ! Her return is 
 essential to my plots. First, there are cer- 
 tain little legal formalities that vest a thor- 
 ough right in me for handling the estate thai- 
 she must tacitly sanction ; next, if I see the 
 fortune slipping from my hands, I must pro- 
 ceed to extreme measues. She might make 
 a will and die, leaving me sole heir. She
 
 1 86 
 
 might marry me ! What an idea ! but, as 
 I hold her in mortal terror, why not ? With 
 the proofs to send her lover, Sydney Vance, 
 to the gallows, with evidence that I control 
 his liberty, she is a pliable tool in my subtle 
 hands. Ah ! I' plot wisely, I execute well." 
 
 The cold-blooded schemer chuckled se- 
 renely. He cut savagely at the pretty flow- 
 ers by the roadside as he strolled along. He 
 hated beauty he despised nature. It had 
 no charms for him. As he mutilated the 
 glowing buds, so would he cruelly crush 
 every foe to his interest who dared to cross 
 his path. 
 
 "As to that meddling photographer, he 
 won't appear again in a hurry," continued 
 Durand. " I checked his mad career sum- 
 marily. I obliterated the last tangible clue, 
 in sight, to my rascality, as he terms it, my 
 shrewdness, I say the glass negative. 
 Master of the situation complete, I propose 
 to bring affairs to a climax, money matters to 
 a basis. I intend to begin lining my nest 
 from the proceeds of the estate, lest misad- 
 venture overcomes me, and turns me oiit of 
 my position as censor of Gladys Vernon's fate 
 and the Vernon fortune."
 
 Durand proceeded straight to the office of 
 the lawyer the minute he reached the vil- 
 lage. 
 
 " Mr. Munson in ? " he demanded, famil- 
 iarly, of the boy in the outer office. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Busy ? " 
 
 "Writing a letter, yes, sir. Does not 
 wish to be disturbed." 
 
 " He'll see me /" interrupted Durand, inso- 
 lently. " Tell him Mr. Durand is here." 
 
 " Mr. Durand ? yes sir," replied the inex- 
 perienced youth, overawed by Mr. Ralph 
 Durand's imperious manner, and the glitter 
 of his great diamond pin. 
 
 " He'll see you, sir," he announced, reap- 
 pearing in a few minutes. 
 
 "Thought he would ! How are you, 
 Munson ?" 
 
 Durand flung himself into an easy-chair as 
 he entered the private office. 
 
 The lawyer nodded curtly. His drawn 
 brows told how he disliked his visitor. 
 
 "Not over glad to see me, are you?" 
 laughed Durand, viciously. " Can't be 
 helped, though. Come to see you on busi- 
 ness."
 
 i88 
 
 "Ah ! on business ? " repeated the lawyer, 
 his lips grim and set. 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 "About" 
 
 " The Vernon estate." 
 
 " Proceed." 
 
 " I am executor." 
 
 " You seem to be." 
 
 " Much against your liking ! However, 
 you won't dispute my claim. What I want 
 to know is, how affairs stand. I am exec- 
 utor I want something to execute ! " 
 
 Ralph Durand chuckled diabolically at his 
 horrible pleasantry. The lawyer looked dis- 
 gusted. 
 
 "In other words," he said, "you wish to 
 assume your trust ? " 
 
 "At once." 
 
 "And take charge of the estate." 
 
 "The ticket, exactly!" 
 
 Mr. Munson took down a portfolio. 
 
 It was marked on the outside, "Estate of 
 Gideon Vernon Private." 
 
 He opened it, and drew forth some papers. 
 
 " Mr. Vernon's last memoranda of his pos- 
 sessions, real and personal," he announced.
 
 1 89 
 
 "Very good, go on!" cried Durand, with 
 sparkling, avaricious eyes. 
 
 ' To summarize, there is the villa" 
 
 " Worth ?"- 
 
 ' With furniture and belongings, say,, 
 twenty thousand dollars." 
 
 " Quite a plum ! " 
 
 " Next, the mines at Leeville " 
 
 "Valued?" 
 
 "At one hundred and twenty-five thousand. 
 He was offered that once." 
 
 "Better still ! next! " 
 
 " Real estate in St. Louis, unimproved 
 boulevard lots" 
 
 "Would bring?" 
 
 " At least fifty thousand dollars." 
 
 " It's piling up ! " gloated the delighted 
 plotter. " I want it all turned over to me. 
 As trustee, I do as I please with it invest 
 it, speculate, bank or devote to improve- 
 ments." 
 
 " Unfortunately, under the very lax condi- 
 tions of the will, you may." 
 
 " Never mind that. Now then, old Ver- 
 non of course left lots of ready cash securities, 
 bonds, jewels and the like ? " 
 
 " He had such, yes, before he died. I see
 
 190 
 
 on this memoranda, that the day before his 
 death, he listed his personal belongings at a 
 clear hundred thousand dollars." 
 
 Ralph Durand's eyes fairly blazed with 
 covetousness. To handle all that in ready 
 cash ! His finger ends tingled. 
 
 "Now, then," he cried, excitedly, "when 
 can you turn all this property over to me ? " 
 
 "At any moment." 
 
 " Do it now ! " 
 
 "On an order from the court." 
 
 Durand's face fell, but he said, a moment 
 later : 
 
 " That's all right. I can get the order this 
 morning soon as court opens.". 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 "You'll have the property in shape ?" 
 
 " Yes, what there is of it ? " 
 
 Ralph Durand started. There was a 
 strange intonation in the lawyer's voice, a 
 peculiar expression of latent triumph and. 
 vindictiveness in his face. 
 
 " What do you mean by that? " remarked 
 Durand. 
 
 "I mean what I say." 
 
 "The deeds for the real estate are in your 
 hands."
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " That settles that part of it, then. Now, 
 then, as to the hundred thousand dollars in 
 ready money I get of that " 
 
 " Not one cent f " 
 
 Mr. Munson uttered the words with a 
 thrill of grim satisfaction. 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Durand, starting sus- 
 piciously, alarmed at the lawyer's triumph- 
 ant, satisfied manner, " you say" 
 
 " Not one cent, Mr. Ralph Durand ! I 
 must acknowledge you as the executor of the 
 estate of Gideon Vernon, but I fear you will 
 not welcome the trust." 
 
 " Will not welcome it ? " gasped the start - 
 'ed plotter, realizing some latent defeat, dis- 
 aster, in the lawyer's sphynx-like face. 
 
 11 No/' 
 
 "And why not?" 
 
 " Because," replied the lawyer, impress- 
 ively, "the estate of Gideon Vernon is a 
 complete wreck !"
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A MYSTERY. 
 
 RALPH DURAND looked much like an eager 
 fox-hunter suddenly checked in his mad 
 career of further progress, by an insurmount- 
 able barrier, with a shock. 
 
 "The estate a wreck ! " he gasped, falter- 
 ingly. 
 
 His were the white face, the trembling lip, 
 the dismayed eyes, now. 
 
 The lawyer locked his hands, placidly. 
 However much he might deplore disaster to 
 the Vernon interests, he seemed to fairly 
 delight in the discomfiture and chagrin of his 
 unwelcome client. 
 
 "Exactly," he murmured. 
 
 "I don't believe it!" 
 
 Durand flared out like a spitting volcano. 
 He stormed, raved, threatened. The lawyer 
 calmly awaited his quieting down. 
 
 "We return to facts," he spoke, with pro- 
 voking coolness. "The estate is a wreck. 
 Instead of your becoming the free and easy 
 dispenser of thousands, you come into con- 
 trol of a shattered, almost worthless, estate."
 
 193 
 
 "I don't believe it ! " choked out Durand, 
 white with rage and disappointment. 
 
 ' The records will bear me out." 
 
 "Trickery fraud! A scheme to defeat 
 me ! " 
 
 "Take care," warned the lawyer, a dan- 
 gerous look in his stern eyes, "how you ac- 
 cuse me. I know how to seek redress." 
 
 Durand cooled down, but his whole frame 
 quivered with latent emotion. 
 
 "Go on!" he panted. 'Explain your 
 claims." 
 
 "Claims!" iterated Mr. Munson ; "they 
 are simple facts. The exact status of the 
 case is I state." 
 
 " But old Vernon, a wealthy man, possessed 
 of an enormous estate, as his memoranda 
 shows !" 
 
 " I will explain. Mr. Vernon did own all 
 the real estate listed, but I find that one week 
 ago, unknown to me, he executed a mortgage 
 on the entire property, the villa included." 
 
 "A mortgage ? " 
 
 ' Yes. It was made to a firm in the city.' 
 
 " But the ready money you refer to ?" 
 
 "That was it."
 
 104 
 
 "What was it?" queried the puzzled 
 Durand. 
 
 "The mortgage money. I have investi- 
 gated. He positively made the mortgage. 
 The records show it. He certainly received 
 the money. The canceled check proves it. 
 He converted it into cash. In other words, 
 he loaded down the estate with a mortgage 
 for fully half its value. Its income will not 
 even pay the interest." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Do you want a truthful reason ? ' 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "To provide against the very contingency 
 that has occurred to so cripple the estate 
 temporarily, that whoever became executor, 
 would have to work for his salary, keeping 
 the estate in order, instead of pilfering from 
 
 ', 
 It. 
 
 Durand bit his lips with supressed rage at 
 the lawyer's candor. 
 
 "But the money?" 
 
 "What money?" 
 
 " The mortgage proceeds." 
 
 " That," announced Mr. Munson, grimly, 
 "has disappeared." 
 
 "Disappeared !"
 
 195 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 " You say he received it ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly." 
 
 "Did he not bank it?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " I have inquired ? " 
 
 " Then he hid it." 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 Ralph Durand sat a picture of consterna- 
 tion, suspicion and chagrin. 
 
 All his fond air-castles had been shattered 
 at one fell, unexpected blow. 
 
 Instead of being able to handle a royal 
 fortune at will, he would do well if he got the 
 barest living out of his guardianship during 
 its term of existence. 
 
 The hundred thousand dollars had disap- 
 peared. There was no doubt but that Gideon 
 Vernon had received the amount. There 
 was no doubt but that the lawyer spoke the 
 truth when he said that he did not know 
 what had become of it. 
 
 Durand left the office a depressed, enraged 
 man a baffled schemer. 
 
 In death, old Gideon Vernon's cleverness
 
 196 
 
 had baffled him more than his defiance when 
 alive. 
 
 What had Vernon done with the money ? 
 Ah ! a thought came to Durand's mind with 
 the intensity of a shock. Had Gladys re- 
 ceived it? 
 
 He did not know, but he would know. 
 That very day the newspapers that had 
 published the initial advertisement that Dr. 
 Richard Milton had shown to Jera Le Britta, 
 received orders to continue it indefinitely. 
 
 And that evening, as Durand took a rusted 
 key from his pocket and made his way down 
 the river shore, bent evidently upon some 
 mysterious mission, he muttered, hopefully: 
 
 " The advertisement will bring her back. 
 She will come if she thinks her lover is in 
 danger. Then for the truth. Gladys Vernon 
 certainly knows what has become of that 
 hundred thousand dollars, and I I must 
 find it I must, I will possess it ! "
 
 197 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 FOUND AND LOST. 
 
 JERA LE BRITTA had faced some startling 
 surprises in his eventful career, but the scene 
 that greeted his senses in the studio where 
 he had been engaged in photographing his 
 fellow-knights, fairly electrified him. 
 
 One glance at the lady in the chair, one 
 penetrating, half-frightened look in return, 
 and, as has been said, the woman sank faint- 
 ing to the floor. 
 
 It was the photographer, and not Le Britta, 
 who sprang to her rescue. The latter was 
 too overcome to act for the moment. Over- 
 whelmed, he stared fixedly at the white, 
 beautiful face of the fair creature, who had 
 gone down under some severe mental shock. 
 
 Then his surprised lips framed a single 
 word 
 
 " Gladys ! " 
 
 Yes, it was she, Gladys Vernon, the heiress 
 of Hawthorne villa, the refugee victim of 
 Ralph Durand's cruel power ; the heart- 
 broken fiancee of Sydney Vance ! 
 
 How had she come here ? What fate had
 
 198 
 
 sent her across the path of the man who had 
 sought her so vainly, face to face, at a crit- 
 ical moment in the destiny of all concerned in 
 the strange case, where villainy and avarice 
 were waging a merciless battle against inno- 
 cence and right ? 
 
 Before Le Britta had fully regained his 
 wits, the photographer had summoned a lady 
 assistant. The insensible girl was removed 
 to an inner apartment, the excited and breath- 
 less Le Britta sank to a chair. 
 
 He could only wait. The photographer, 
 immersed in business, had ordered his assist- 
 ant to do all in her power to resuscitate the 
 insensible girl. From the waiting-room two 
 other ladies had also gone to the aid of 
 Gladys, and from excited, disjointed bits of 
 conversation, Le Britta comprehended that 
 Gladys Vernon was a new subordinate mem- 
 ber of the dramatic company which was being 
 photographed, and to which his friend had 
 previously referred. 
 
 " I see it all," he murmured. " She fled 
 from home she sought to earn her own 
 living. She hoped to put to account her 
 rare elocutionary powers in the dramatic line, 
 she hoped, doubtless, under a new guise, an
 
 199 
 
 assumed name, to hide her identity ; " and as 
 Le Britta learned that the company was on 
 its way to California, he discerned that 
 Gladys' determination to hide herself was a 
 fixed one. 
 
 "She ventured to remain somewhere near 
 to Hawthorne villa disguised on the stage, 
 veiled on the street. She probably reluct- 
 antly consented to have her picture taken, 
 because she could not very well evade it. 
 She saw me. The shock of recognition 
 overcame her, and she fainted away. Thank 
 heaven I have found her, though," ruminated 
 Le Britta. " I will save her from a life of 
 drudgery and loneliness, she shall come 
 under my wife's gentle ministrations until it 
 is safe for her to reappear to her friends - 
 she shall hear all I have to tell. I will win 
 her to realize the folly of flight, I will protect, 
 advise her as a friend, a brother." 
 
 Half an hour went by. Le Britta began 
 to grow impatient. The photographer was 
 too occupied to talk with him. At last, Le 
 Britta advanced to the door of the room into 
 which Gladys Vernon had been carried. 
 
 He tapped lightly. No reply. He pressed 
 the knob. The room beyond was untenanted.
 
 200 
 
 Startled, he entered it. A door at its 
 other end stood open. At its threshold the 
 assistant confronted him. 
 
 "The girl the young lady who was 
 here ? " spoke Le Britta, hurriedly. 
 
 " Which one ? " 
 
 "The lady who fainted." 
 
 " She is gone." 
 
 " Gone ! " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "When where?" 
 
 " Fully twenty minutes since. She recov- 
 ered, begged of her friends to get her away 
 from here, and they went. 
 
 " What way ? To the street, while I sat 
 dumbly waiting! " exclaimed Le Britta, con- 
 cernedly. " She wishes to evade me ; she is 
 determined that she will not see her friends. 
 Poor child ! Amid her terror and uncertainty, 
 she flies from those who have her interests at 
 heart. But I must find her, and at once ! " 
 
 "Easily said difficult of execution! It 
 took Jera Le Britta an hour to find out at 
 which of the crowded hotels the dramatic 
 company was stopping. 
 
 He learned that it had disbanded tempora-
 
 201 
 
 rily, to reorganize in San Francisco in two 
 weeks. 
 
 Departing in sections, by different routes, 
 for different cities of visitation, ere the jour- 
 ney began, he was utterly at a loss to trace 
 Gladys and her new-found friends. Special 
 trains were being run for the day to the con- 
 clave, and the railroad officials were busy, 
 confused and unsatisfactory in their answers 
 to his anxious queries. 
 
 " It is useless to follow the many blind 
 trails suggested," he decided. " If I found 
 her, would she consent to abandon her evi- 
 dent determination to remain away from 
 home while that villain, Durand, is in power ? 
 To San Francisco she is surely gone. There 
 she can be found later. It would take half- 
 a-dozen detectives to hunt her up just now. 
 I am worried, but she is comparatively safe. 
 I have no right to control her movements. I 
 will work at the case until I get a clear deck 
 for action until she can safely return ; then 
 she will not refuse. 
 
 Thus Le Britta tried to decide, but an 
 hour later his anxiety for Gladys Vernon 
 overcame his former judgment. Inquiry had 
 given him a new clue. He had met the
 
 202 
 
 manager of the dramatic company. By 
 describing Gladys' two lady companions 
 at the photograph studio, he was enabled to 
 learn that they were the soubrette and the 
 leading lady of the company. 
 
 ''They started for St. Louis an hour ago," 
 spoke the manager. " Is it something im- 
 portant." 
 
 " Yes. I have a very vital message for the 
 lady who is with them." 
 
 11 Oh ! Miss Raven ? the new lady who has 
 engaged to play some minor parts." 
 
 That meant Gladys, and Le Britta nodded 
 affirmatively. 
 
 " I don't think she went with them to 
 St. Louis. I am quite certain not." 
 
 "Can you find out?" asked Le Britta, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Yes. Come back in two hours." 
 
 In two hours Le Britta returned. 
 
 The manager had word for him. 
 
 " I telegraphed to the leading lady on the 
 train had a dispatch sent and delivered at 
 a junction," he explained. 
 
 "And her reply?" 
 
 " Here it is. You can read it for yourself."
 
 203 
 
 Le Britta surveyed the reply message at- 
 tentively and with expectation. 
 
 It blighted his hopes, and made the where- 
 abouts of Gladys Vernon more a matter of 
 doubt than ever. 
 
 For it read : 
 
 " Miss Raven did not leave city with us. 
 She stated that she would leave company 
 and return to her home." 
 
 "Return to her home?" repeated the 
 mystified Le Britta. "That cannot be she 
 would not do that where can she have 
 gone ? " 
 
 The long day through he sought for 
 Gladys Vernon, but did not find her. Even- 
 tide brought no solution to the mystery of 
 her whereabouts, and that evening Jera Le 
 Britta appeared at the hotel that was the 
 headquarters of his friends, with a weaned 
 and a heavy heart. 
 
 He had dismissed the thought of person- 
 ally tracing down Gladys Vernon for the 
 present, and had gone to a local detective 
 agency late in the afternoon. 
 
 Le Britta had no idea of mixing up the 
 police with a case where secrecy and family 
 respectability were important elements, and
 
 2O4 
 
 he had so informed the officer who was de- 
 tailed to consult with him. 
 
 "I come to you on a complicated case," 
 Le Britta had said, "but I ask you only to 
 consider one phase of it. A young lady has 
 disappeared. I wish to learn where she has 
 gone how and when she left the city." 
 
 Le Britta therewith detailed the connec- 
 tion of Gladys Vernon with the dramatic 
 company, and gave a description of her. 
 
 He told the officer where he would be 
 found until the following morning, and then 
 made his way to the hotel. 
 
 His friends greeted him with reproaches 
 for his neglect of them, but good-naturedly, 
 and soon the influence of friendly banter and 
 jovial companionship dispelled the clouds of 
 anxiety that oppressed Le Britta's mind. 
 
 For the time being, engaged in discussions 
 of art and of conclave matters, he forgot 
 Gladys Vernon. He was the enthusiastic 
 artist once more, in love with his profession, 
 and ably defending his theories in regard to 
 the best lines followed in producing and per- 
 fecting pictures, as he talked with several fel- 
 low-members of his craft. 
 
 Quite a coterie had gathered about him in
 
 205 
 
 the lobby of the hotel, as he became engaged 
 in an interesting argument regarding sensi- 
 tive printing. Then lodge matters super- 
 vened, and the evening drifted away, indus- 
 triously and satisfactorily spent. 
 
 Le Britta had gone to his room, and was 
 about to retire for the night, when there was 
 a tap on the door. 
 
 He answered the summons, to find one of 
 the servants of the hotel in waiting, with a 
 card. 
 
 "Richard Dunbar," he read, and he re- 
 membered that to be the name of the detect- 
 ive he had engaged. 
 
 Le Britta hurried below. He found the 
 brisk, business-like officer awaiting him. 
 
 " You have something to report ? " queried 
 Le Britta, anxiously. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You have found a clue?" 
 
 "We have accomplished what you wished. 
 We have traced the girl." 
 
 "And found her?" 
 
 "No. Our labors end with learning how 
 she left the city where she went." 
 
 "Yes, I understand that." 
 
 " Miss Raven, as you call her, after leav-
 
 2O6 
 
 ing the photographer's studio, returned to 
 the Palace hotel." 
 
 "Where the dramatic company was stay- 
 ing ? " 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 " She took her satchel and hurried to the 
 railroad depot." 
 
 "Which one?" 
 
 " The Central line. She purchased a 
 ticket;" and in a few concise words the detec- 
 tive developed the fact that she had secured 
 transportation for the station nearest to 
 Hawthorne villa. 
 
 Le Britta could scarcely credit the infor- 
 mation. Gladys gone home; Gladys re- 
 turned to Hawthorne villa ! 
 
 Why, if that was her destination, a deci- 
 sion undoubtedly forced by Le Britta's 
 recognition of her, had she fled from him ? 
 
 With all her dread of Ralph Durand, why 
 should she return to the place where he 
 would at once enforce his power of guardian- 
 ship ? 
 
 " I cannot understand it," murmured Le 
 Britta, as he paid the detective and walked
 
 207 
 
 out thoughtfully upon the street. "There is 
 some mystery here." 
 
 He tried to analyze the motives that would 
 actuate Gladys in a resolve to abandon her 
 dramatic career, and go back to face the fate 
 from which she had so recently fled. 
 
 For over an hour he reflected seriously 
 over the case. He could not get it out of his 
 mind. 
 
 More than once he told himself that he 
 was exceeding his duty to himself and others 
 in assuming so much anxiety and trouble for 
 a comparative stranger, but his better nature 
 discarded the suggestion, and he resolved to 
 figure out the difficult problem, to find 
 Gladys Vernon if possible. 
 
 Was it not probable that, fearing she would 
 be followed by Le Britta, Gladys had pur- 
 chased the ticket for home to throw him off 
 the trail ? 
 
 Scarcely. Her candid ingenuous nature 
 was too guileless for that. 
 
 "The case is certainly arriving at a critical 
 climax," soliquized Le Britta. " There must 
 soon be some developments. The tramp in 
 charge of Doctor Milton, the secret regarding 
 the treasure in the ravine these are formid-
 
 208 
 
 able interests in the affair, but this girl, a 
 refugee, homeless, affrighted oh ! I wish I 
 could find her, to explain that friends are act- 
 ing in her behalf, that her absence compli- 
 cates the matter, and places us at a disad- 
 vantage. Mercy ! that is the key to the 
 enigma." 
 
 Le Britta started violently. Of a sudden 
 a quick suggestion had come to his mind. 
 In a flash he discerned the truth. 
 
 " Why ! " he exclaimed, with a gasp of 
 comprehension, " I never thought of it ! 
 Gladys Vernon has returned home she 
 saw Ralph Durand's advertisement. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 BLOCKED. 
 
 THE next train on the Central left in two 
 hours. Le Britta's decision had been quickly 
 suggested and formed he would go to 
 Hawthorne villa. 
 
 There he was certain he would find Gladys 
 Vernon. Thither he was positive the home- 
 less orphan had returned. 
 
 When Gladys had fled from her home, she
 
 209 
 
 believed her lover, Sydney Vance, to be a 
 fugitive. The advertisement inserted in the 
 newspapers by Ralph Durand proved that he 
 was in the power of that villainous plotter, at 
 least that Durand knew of his whereabouts. 
 
 That carefully-worded initial advertise- 
 ment contained a terrible threat for the 
 frantic fugitive. If she would save her 
 lover's life, she had better return at once to 
 Hawthorne villa, it suggested. 
 
 What more natural, therefore, than that 
 she had so decided to do. Unequal to a 
 strife where villainy held the whip-hand, 
 Gladys had heart brokenly abandoned the 
 contest. Before Le Britta could reach Haw- 
 thorne villa to intercept her, to warn her, she 
 would have placed herself under the baleful 
 power of the miscreant, Ralph Durand ! 
 
 Le Britta took the train with an oppressed 
 heart. Some how, he felt that he was going 
 to meet disaster, that, armed with some 
 power not yet fully developed, Durand would 
 drive him from the field completely at their 
 next interview. He had started on a quest, 
 however, and he would not abandon it, and 
 he settled himself down in a seat to reflect, 
 to formulate his plan of proceedure if he
 
 2IO 
 
 found Gladys an inmate of the villa, when a 
 hand slapped him familiarly on the shoulder. 
 
 "Hello, Le Britta ! " spoke a bluff, hearty 
 voice, and its owner pressed into the seat 
 without ceremony. 
 
 It proved to be one of the visitors to the 
 conclave, who, like Le Britta, was a photog- 
 rapher. They had met that day, and some 
 moments were consumed in mutually explain- 
 ing how neither intended remaining for the 
 last day's exercises. 
 
 Le Britta did not feel much like talking, 
 but his companion was not to be rebuffed. 
 He was a photographer of the old school, and 
 while he was forced to acknowledge Le 
 Britta's superior genius from the results it 
 had manifestly attained, they never met but he 
 forced a heated and lengthy discussion as to 
 the merits and demerits of their respective 
 systems. 
 
 " Well, Le Britta," spoke the man, as they 
 drifted into their usual theme of discussion, 
 " you still hold to your old idea that photog- 
 raphy is an art ? " 
 
 "You know me too well to doubt it." 
 
 "And I continue to hold to the theory that 
 it is a business. I hold that certain processes
 
 21 I 
 
 produce certain results ; invariably conditions, 
 and results remain constant. Give me a 
 camera, I give you a picture. If people 
 want fine effects of light and shade, elegant 
 surroundings depicted, and all that, let them 
 hire a portrait-painter. Photography is a 
 business. Tact and talent to advertise, to 
 catch custom, is the key-note of success. A 
 woman wants a picture of her child. I take 
 it. You high-toned fellows make it look like 
 
 O 
 
 an angel pearly complexion, sparkling eyes, 
 unnatural pose, emotional features. What's 
 the use of all that flummery ? It makes more 
 work, and a picture is a picture, if it shows 
 the face, is it not ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Le Brittaj with a dry smile. 
 " You might cover yourself with a suit of 
 clothes cut out with a hatchet, but you 
 wouldn't look well. You photograph a face 
 in a blur of hideous brown, or an ugly back- 
 ground of antiquated screen-work. The face 
 is there, that is true, but robbed of all attrac- 
 tions. I aim to have all the accessories in 
 perfection, I believe in making the counter- 
 feit presentment a gem, a treasure. Here is 
 what perfect light can do, here is what proper 
 posing can effect, here is what the right de-
 
 212 
 
 velopment of the negative can do. Step by 
 step I try not to rob the picture of natural- 
 ness, but to enhance its naturality, to tone 
 down harsh lines, to soften and illuminate. 
 What is the result ? We educate people up 
 to a higher appreciation of the service, we 
 cultivate the uncultured, we banish botch- 
 work, and make of the family photograph 
 album a gallery that vies with steel-plate 
 range in fineness, nicety of execution, and 
 gloss of finish. I tell you, my friend, that 
 not one detail, from the merest shade on the 
 hair to the printing on the back of the picture, 
 should be neglected." 
 
 " All right," was the quick reply. " You 
 please people, you educate them what for ? 
 To make them demand more, the more they 
 get. You produce fine pictures, they expect 
 finer ones. You give them too much for 
 their money. Why, Le Britta ! a photog- 
 rapher of the class you represent has to 
 think, study, work be an artist and busi- 
 ness man in one. It don't pay " 
 
 "It does pay!" interrupted Le Britta, 
 pointedly. " There is a compensation in it 
 all. We give the public better work at less 
 money than in the past ; for what reason ?
 
 213 
 
 Because invention has aided us in the mis- 
 sion. We are not only working for our 
 patrons, but for ourselves. Every step we 
 advance, we learn. Every experiment we 
 succeed in is for our benefit, and that of the 
 world as well. It is all well enough to make 
 money, but how much greater to score a vic- 
 tory as an inventor, an improver, to give to 
 the world some new process, some original 
 discovery that beautifies or instructs ? Look 
 at the new photographic colors, the latest 
 processes, the advancement in manipulating 
 emulsions, the new ways of developing nega- 
 tives, the benefit of sensitive printing paper ! 
 Why ! I myself am experimenting on a new 
 gelatine printing paper that will practically 
 revolutionize the art in that line. You stick 
 to the albumen paper, I suppose ? Why ? 
 Because you blindly persist in shutting your 
 eyes to newer modes. You are ten years 
 behind the times. Some day, a bright, ener- 
 getic new-process man will come to your 
 town, open a rival establishment, and you 
 will have to learn what I am forgetting, or 
 abandon the business." 
 
 Le Britta talked on his pet theme for half
 
 214 
 
 an hour, enthusiastically. His auditor was 
 silenced. 
 
 "I begin to think I am a bit stubborn," he 
 admitted, finally ; "but how do you keep 
 posted on all these new wrinkles ? " 
 
 " By studying all current literature on the 
 subject, by keeping in correspondence with 
 the lights of the profession, by emulating 
 and excelling the leaders in the photographic 
 art ; most of all, by being in touch and har- 
 mony with the Association." 
 
 " What Association ? " 
 
 "The P. A. of A." 
 
 "Oh! you mean" 
 
 "The Photographers' Association of 
 America." 
 
 " Bah ! A regular mutual admiration 
 society. I don't allow any set of men to 
 dictate to me." 
 
 "Dictate? Why, man! join it, and, if 
 you have a bright idea, the various members 
 will be glad to have you dictate to them. I 
 tell you, these photographers' conventions are 
 a place where a man learns an annual love- 
 feast of the profession that every live man 
 should attend. What are they? An aggrega- 
 tion of men with progressive ideas, eager for
 
 215 
 
 an interchange of sentiment, a great body 
 that formulates the trivial ideas of the art into 
 definite, centralized form, so as to devote 
 time and attention to grander themes. You 
 should attend just one convention ! Here is 
 a man with a paper on back grounds the 
 result of careful thought, study and investi- 
 gation. Here is another with specimens of 
 flash-light work. It is studied, analyzed, it 
 instructs, it gives new ideas, it makes you 
 feel that you are not simply an isolated 
 picture-taker, but one of a great body of 
 active, intelligent men, who get out of them- 
 selves once a year in a harmonious exchange 
 of sentiment and opinion, and return to 
 routine work benefited, spurred on to do 
 something great for the advance of art and 
 the elevation and culture of the masses. The 
 man who pretends to be an adept photog- 
 rapher, and is not a member of the associa- 
 tion, is certainly outside a charmed circle that 
 to-day surrounds the world with a chain 
 decked with the finest jewels of art, inven- 
 tion and progress." 
 
 Whether the enthusiastic peroration con- 
 vinced his companion, Le Britta did not find
 
 2l6 
 
 out, for the station nearest to Hawthorne 
 villa was reached as he barely concluded. 
 
 He felt refreshed at getting away from 
 brooding anxiety concerning Gladys Vernon, 
 however, even if temporarily, and he walked 
 toward the Vernon mansion in the early morn- 
 ing light with a clear head and fixed plans as 
 to his intentions. 
 
 "Perhaps Gladys has gone to the lawyer 
 or the doctor," he ruminated. " I will make 
 the villa my first point of progress, however. 
 Ah ! the servants are stirring," he continued, 
 as he neared the house. 
 
 Le Britta advanced up the steps and rang 
 the bell. The echoes had scarcely died away 
 when the door was opened. 
 
 Ralph Durand had answered his ring. His 
 face was flushed with drink, his eyes heavy 
 and dull, as if he had been making a night of 
 it. He scowled darkly. Then his face 
 lighted up with a cunning, sinister expression. 
 
 " Good ! The picture-taker ! " he jeered. 
 " Ah ! I understand. You are a quick actor, 
 my friend. You came here to find Gladys 
 Vernon, my ward. You traced her here ? " 
 
 " She is here, then ?" breathed Le Britta. 
 
 " Yes, she is here. Come in. There is
 
 217 
 
 no use quarreling with you, for I see a 
 way to settle the whole affair speedily. You 
 won't call in a hurry again ! Come in, I say ! " 
 And he led the way to the library. "Now, 
 then, sit down." 
 
 Le Britta regarded his host uneasily this 
 reception of him boded no favorable results. 
 There was a complacent, satisfied look in 
 Du rand's face that showed that he felt san- 
 guine on some new development of affairs. 
 
 He lit a cigar, dashed off a glass of liquor, 
 and smiled familiarly and with insolent assur- 
 ance at his unexpected visitor. 
 
 "I'm right in supposing you have been 
 looking for Gladys Vernon ?" he began. 
 
 " Yes," replied Le Britta, " I certainly 
 have." 
 
 " And you traced her here ?" 
 
 " I supposed she had come here, yes," ad- 
 mitted the photographer. 
 
 " You were right." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " A few hours since." 
 
 '* And she is here now ? " 
 
 " She is. See here, my friend, we will 
 settle this whole affair here and now. There 
 has been row and trouble enough. It will do
 
 218 
 
 no good to make any more. You may hound 
 me down, employ detectives and all that, but 
 I am in a position to defy you. You can pos- 
 itively prove nothing against me. As exec- 
 utor of the Vernon fortune, as guardian of 
 Gladys Vernon, I take formal possession of 
 Hawthorne villa to-day. That shuts out pry- 
 ing investigation and interference. You have 
 sought for Gladys Vernon, she is here. You 
 have sought for her former lover, Sydney 
 Vance. You will never find him. You have 
 tried to connect me with the murder of Gid- 
 eon Vernon a vain effort. You will return 
 home and abandon your meddling interfer- 
 ence now, I hope, for it will not avail you 
 longer. Affairs have come to a basis." 
 
 "What do you mean by a basis?" de- 
 manded Le Britta. 
 
 " I mean that Gladys Vernon has seen the 
 folly of her ways, has decided to obey her 
 dead uncle's injunctions, and remain under 
 this roof until she has attained her majority." 
 
 Jera Le Britta looked dismayed. The 
 statement seemed incredible, and yet the 
 plotter spoke confidently. 
 
 " You tell me this truthfully ? " he de- 
 manded.
 
 219 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " Gladys is here, returned of her own free 
 will." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And consents to remain here willingly ? " 
 
 " She does." 
 
 " I can scarcely credit it ! " 
 
 " Ask her then." 
 
 " Eh ! " ejaculated Le Britta, with a hopeful 
 start. " I may see her ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 "I may talk with her?" 
 
 "As much as you wish." 
 
 Le Britta had aroused to quick hope at the 
 idea of seeing Gladys and conversing with 
 her. 
 
 His heart sank, however, at the malignant 
 triumph that glowed in Ralph Durand's 
 face, predicting that he had some sinister de- 
 sign hidden under his new mask of ready 
 acquiescence to the demands of an enemy. 
 
 Ralph Durand had proceeded to the door 
 of the next room. His hand on the knob, 
 he lingered. 
 
 "You wish to see Miss Vernon," he 
 spoke, assuming a cool dignity of manner so
 
 220 
 
 foreign to his usual demeanor, that it was 
 ominously menacing. 
 
 " Yes," replied Le Britta. 
 
 Durand bowed and retired. He returned 
 at the end of five minutes five anxious, 
 fluttering moments of suspense to the pho- 
 tographer. 
 
 " Gladys Miss Vernon." 
 
 Jera Le Britta started forward eagerly. A 
 great cry of joy escaped his lips as the door 
 opened and Gladys Vernon appeared, Durand 
 following her. 
 
 Her face was pale, her eyes downcast. 
 Like one bound by a spell, under the domin- 
 ion of some powerful tyrant, she did not look 
 up. Her lips, tightly pressed, seemed to 
 shut in the emotion that was tugging at her 
 heart-strings. 
 
 "Wait!" cried Durand, in a mandatory 
 tone, sharp, clear, resonant, as Le Britta was 
 about to glide forward and seize Gladys' 
 hand. " Miss Vernon is exhausted by a long 
 journey. She bids me speak for her. Is it 
 not so, Gladys ? " 
 
 The fair young girl shuddered slightly. 
 Then, with icy, impenetrable reserve she 
 nodded.
 
 221 
 
 " I told her you were here," continued the 
 miscreant. " I have asked her if she wished 
 to see you. Her answer was no ! " 
 
 " I do not believe it ! She is under some 
 terrible constraint ! " burst forth Le Britta, 
 excitedly. "Gladys! Miss Vernon ! speak! 
 I am your friend, the friend of your friends. 
 I wish to tell you " 
 
 He paused. Gladys Vernon had lifted her 
 haunted, pained eyes to his face. 
 
 " Go," she spoke, in a low, wailing voice. 
 
 ' I do not wish to discuss the past. I have 
 
 chosen my future. If you are my true friend, 
 
 leave here, now and forever, for I shall refuse 
 
 to see you again ! " 
 
 And then, half-reeling, she turned from the 
 room, leaving the petrified Le Britta over- 
 come with consternation and despair. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 AT THE VILLA. 
 
 JERA LE BRITTA left Hawthorne villa with 
 a depressed heart one hour after his arrival 
 there. 
 
 The mournful words of Gladys Vernon had
 
 222 
 
 been decisive, the calm, mock-civil demeanor 
 of Ralph Durand stinging as the cut of a 
 whip. The miscreant had triumphed com- 
 pletely, and the photographer was bound to 
 acknowledge the fact. 
 
 Le Britta, with bowed head and thoughtful 
 mien walked sadly toward the village. He 
 found the lawyer at his home, and was soon 
 closeted with him in his library. 
 
 " I have just come from Hawthorne villa," 
 was Le Britta's first statement, and the lawyer 
 was at once interested. 
 
 "You have arrived at an opportune 
 season," spoke Mr. Munson. "I have much 
 to tell you." 
 
 " Concerning Durand, I suppose." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You know that Gladys has returned to 
 Hawthorne villa?" 
 
 "What!" 
 
 The lawyer started as if dealt a sudden 
 blow. 
 
 Le Britta rapidly detailed his efforts to 
 trace the heiress of Hawthorne villa, and the 
 result of his late interview. 
 
 The narration petrified the lawyer. 
 
 "I can scarcely believe it !" he murmured.
 
 223 
 
 " Gladys returned to Hawthorne villa ! Why ! 
 if that is so, and I can only talk with 
 her " 
 
 " She will refuse." 
 
 " Refuse to converse with an old friend, her 
 dead uncle's counselor ? " 
 
 " Yes, for Durand will compel her to do so. 
 Do you not understand yet how subtle and 
 far-reaching are the plots of this consum- 
 mate villain ? There is but one theory to 
 advance on." 
 
 " And that is ? " 
 
 "The certainty that he has Gladys Ver- 
 non's lover, Sydney Vance, in his power." 
 
 "A prisoner ?" 
 
 "Undoubtedly." 
 
 "Then"- 
 
 " I theorize that he has him hidden some- 
 where in the vicinity of the villa, or in the 
 hands of paid emissaries at a distance. Fur- 
 ther, he has convinced Gladys that this is so. 
 She saw the advertisements he published. 
 While she would never have returned will- 
 ingly, the dread that her lover might be mur- 
 dered, surrendered up to justice, completely 
 overcame her. She returned to Hawthorne 
 villa."
 
 224 
 
 "And that villain, Durand "- 
 
 " Forced her to agree to carry out his 
 wishes." 
 
 ''Which are?" 
 
 "To refuse our friendly offers of assist- 
 ance," 
 
 "I see." 
 
 "To remain there with seeming willing- 
 ness." 
 
 The lawyer reflected deeply. His face 
 grew stern. He related the discovery about 
 the missing hundred thousand dollars. 
 
 Le Britta was surprised, but enlightened. 
 He understood now what the treasure 
 amounted to which the tramp had located in 
 the ravine. 
 
 "Then," he said, "if the missing money 
 is not found, Durand is beaten completely ? " 
 
 " No, he is only handicapped." 
 
 "I do not understand." 
 
 " Why, if that amount of ready cash was 
 in his possession, he would begin his fraudu- 
 lent operations at once. He would pretend 
 to invest with the aid of accomplices, he 
 would dissipate the money, seemingly legally, 
 but in reality to get it eventually into his
 
 225 
 
 own hands. As it is, the scheme will take 
 more time to work." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " He will claim that the mortgage cripples 
 him ; that he has not sufficient means to pay 
 interest and living expenses. He will sell 
 the mining property at a ruinous sacrifice, 
 the villa, every thing, any thing, in fact, to 
 handle ready cash." 
 
 " But that will take time." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "And time is all I ask! " spoke Le Britta, 
 with determined eyes. "He holds the upper 
 hand now. Wait ! " 
 
 Le Britta did not enlighten the lawyer as 
 to his intentions, nor concerning his dis- 
 covery of the hiding-place of the treasure. 
 
 He wished to investigate that branch of 
 the case alone. More than that, he resolved, 
 in case he found the money, to withhold it 
 from Durand's hands, if he had to retain per- 
 sonal secret possession of it until Gladys 
 came of age. 
 
 He correctly and readily surmised that one 
 motive Durand had in wishing Gladys' return 
 was to learn of the missing money, and he 
 wondered what Durand's next move would
 
 226 
 
 be, when he ascertained that the heiress was 
 entirely ignorant concerning it. 
 
 The lawyer had arrived at a commonplace 
 decision that they could only wait until some- 
 thing had developed, but Le Britta left him 
 with a far more serious and definite thought 
 in his mind. 
 
 He had but one hope of ultimately defeat- 
 ing all the plots of Ralph Durand, and that 
 was based on the recovery of the tramp. In 
 case Doctor Milton brought him through his 
 illness, and in case, furthermore, the tramp 
 would give his evidence against Durand, the 
 affair was ended. 
 
 Then Gladys Vernon would forever be free 
 from the plotter's wiles, Sydney Vance might 
 return and face his fellow-men once more, 
 and the efforts of the photographer to right a 
 great wrong would be crowned with success. 
 
 But the tramp might not recover. If he 
 did it might be too late. Durand was no 
 lax schemer. He had Gladys Vernon in his 
 power. Suppose he should force the girl to 
 wed him ; suppose he should dispose of 
 what little wealth the mortgage had left in 
 sight ; suppose he should do away with Syd- 
 ney Vance, for the testimony of the latter
 
 227 
 
 on the witness-stand would alone convict 
 Durand, were it not that Vance was himself 
 suspected of the crime of killing old Gideon 
 Vernon ? 
 
 " The tramp is safe with Doctor Milton," 
 mused Le Britta, "the hidden money is in 
 the ravine, and I hold the clue to its where- 
 abouts. Sydney Vance is the element of 
 mystery in the case. How can I get an 
 inkling as to his place of incarceration?" 
 
 Le Britta was wearied from his long quest, 
 and, going to the hotel, he sought the rest 
 he so needed. 
 
 At nightfall he started again for Haw- 
 thorne villa. He approached it by a cir- 
 cuitious route, for his inspection of the 
 mansion was to be a covert one. 
 
 He had decided to watch at a distance, in 
 the hopes of seeing Durand, theorizing that 
 if Sydney Vance was anywhere in the vicin- 
 ity, the plotter might go to visit him, and, by 
 following, he might locate the refugee and 
 captive. 
 
 After remaining in the neighborhood for 
 over an hour, Le Britta became impatient. 
 There had not been the slightest trace of 
 activity about the villa no lights, no serv-
 
 228 
 
 ants visible. He came nearer to the house. 
 It was closely shuttered. He penetrated the 
 grounds, he even peered in at unguarded 
 windows. There was no sign of life about 
 the gloomy place. 
 
 Just leaving the grounds, he came to a 
 halt as a carriage and two horses came toil- 
 ing along the sandy road. 
 
 He recognized the driver on the box it 
 
 c"> 
 
 was the steward whom Ralph Durand had 
 employed a few days previous, and as he dis- 
 mounted to open the iron gates he spied Le 
 Britta. 
 
 " Looking for anybody ? " he queried, in a 
 suspicious tone of voice. 
 
 "Yes," Le Britta was forced to say, "Mr. 
 Durand." 
 
 " Oh, him ! He's gone." 
 
 " Gone, where ? " 
 
 " Away on business. I just drove him 
 over country to catch an east-bound train. 
 He's ordered me to close the villa for the 
 next month. He won't be back for some 
 time." 
 
 " Where will a letter reach him ? " ventured 
 Le Britta. 
 
 "Address in my care," was the keen re-
 
 22Q 
 
 sponse. " Say, I know you, and I know 
 what you're after a trace of Miss Vernon. 
 Well, I've this to say to you, and that ends 
 it she's been sent to some friends by Mr. 
 Durand, several hundred miles from here, 
 and you won't be very likely to find her by 
 seeking." 
 
 As he spoke, the man coolly led his horses 
 into the grounds, and closed the gates on the 
 dismayed Le Britta. 
 
 Ralph Durand had scored another victory. 
 He had got the whole game in his hands, 
 and had covered his tracks by a timely disap- 
 pearance. 
 
 "Beaten thrown off the trail!" mur- 
 mured Le Britta, slowly walking down the 
 road. " I can do positively nothing. Gladys 
 has been spirited away, Vance, too, probably, 
 and, at a distance, Durand will mature his 
 plans, whatever they may be. A month ! 
 Why ! in that time the scoundrel may force 
 Gladys to marry him, dispose of Vance, real- 
 ize on the mortgaged real estate, and so com- 
 plicate affairs as to leave nothing but wreck 
 and ruin in his wake. I give it up at last, I 
 have tried to help the poor girl, and " 
 
 Le Britta paused abruptly and started with
 
 230 
 
 a shock, for at just that moment a wild form 
 rushed down the road, fairly colliding- with 
 him. 
 
 Then, with a quick, excited ejaculation, the 
 new-comer grabbed Le Britta's arm, and 
 peered into his face, keenly and excitedly. 
 
 " I've found you good ! " 
 
 Le Britta started and thrilled, for, wonder 
 of wonders ! the speaker was Dr. Richard 
 Milton ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 GONE ! 
 
 THE last man in the world Jera Le Britta 
 would have expected to see at Hawthorne 
 villa, Dr. Richard Milton, gazed fixidly at 
 his friend. 
 
 The photographer was almost too aston- 
 ished to speak, but he managed to gasp forth: 
 
 "Dick Doctor, Dick! What in the 
 world" 
 
 "Brought me here?"- 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " After you." 
 
 " After me I "
 
 231 
 
 " Exactly, I have been looking everywhere 
 for you." 
 
 "Why"- 
 
 Doctor Milton took his companion's arm 
 and walked on with him. 
 
 " I followed you to the city," he explained. 
 " I found you had left the conclave, I imag- 
 ined you had come here, not having gone 
 home. What news, Jera ? " 
 
 Le Britta felt positive that his friend had 
 some important disclosure to make, but he 
 repressed his curiosity and suspense and 
 briefly narrated the developments in the Ver- 
 non case since last they had met. 
 
 The doctor was an interested listener, a 
 startled one too, as he learned of the last 
 move on the part of Ralph Durand. 
 
 " The scoundrel has indeed check-mated 
 your every move," he commented. "It's 
 plain to me what his plans are." 
 
 "Then you think ?"- 
 
 " That he has terrorized Gladys Vernon 
 completely, has removed her to some secluded 
 retreat, where she will be a virtual prisoner 
 in the hands of paid emissaries, that he 
 has removed the lover Vance likewise to 
 a new prison-place. He holds Vance's life
 
 232 
 
 and liberty in his keeping. By this means 
 he silences the girl. Meantime he will pro- 
 ceed to negotiate a sale on the mortgaged 
 property unhampered by the girl's interfer- 
 ence, probably armed with her written con- 
 sent to do so, and without fear of you or her 
 other friends troubling him." 
 
 " But the ready money, the fortune, the 
 hundred thousand dollars he has not that ! " 
 
 " No, he has probably considered that as 
 lost to him." 
 
 " And we have it we know where it is ! " 
 
 " No, I fear we do not," interrupted Doctor 
 Milton, seriously. 
 
 " Eh ? Why ! what do you mean, Dick ?" 
 
 Le Britta came to a sudden standstill, and 
 viewed his friend with a startled look, for the 
 voice and manner of the latter had grown 
 decidedly ominous. 
 
 "It was that money that hidden treasure 
 of old Gideon Vernon's that brought me 
 down here." 
 
 "The money the hidden treasure?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "It is in danger ! " 
 
 "The treasure in danger!"
 
 233 
 
 "Decidedly so." 
 
 " I do not understand you." 
 
 "The patient." 
 
 " You mean the tramp ? " 
 
 " Exactly. You know the condition you 
 left him in delirious. Well, that next day 
 he got suddenly better. The case perplexed 
 me. One hour he would be rational, the 
 next raving. I encouraged the former mood, 
 even to the taxing of his vitality, and began 
 to administer a strong stimulant. Yesterday 
 evening he was sleeping quietly when I left 
 him. I went to call on a patient. When I 
 returned " 
 
 Doctor Milton paused impressively and 
 sighed a troubled, anxious sigh. 
 
 "When I returned," he repeated, in con-' 
 elusion, "the tramp was gone!" 
 
 " Gone ! " cried Le Britta, with a violent 
 start and in blank wonderment, "you mean !" 
 
 " Disappeared." 
 
 "Then he had escaped?" 
 
 " Rather, gone away. With him was miss- 
 ing the bottle from which I had administered 
 the stimulating medicine. I am now satisfied 
 that the tramp had possessed his senses all 
 day. He watched me. He realized his situation.
 
 234 
 
 His wounded arm was no detriment to getting 
 around. It was the fever, the frequent fits 
 of delirium that bothered him, and his weak- 
 ness. I believe he recalled how he had im- 
 parted his secret to us. I think he regretted 
 it. At all events, he had arisen, dressed 
 himself, and taking the stimulant and a bottle 
 of brandy with him, had disappeared." 
 
 "You followed him "- 
 
 "I tried to. At first I thought he had 
 wandered away in delirium. I never imag- 
 ined he could go far in his terribly weak con- 
 dition. Then in a flash, I thought of an 
 impelling motive for his flight the hidden 
 treasure. I knew not of the success or fail- 
 ure of your efforts to secure a copy of the 
 missing half of his written secret. I had men 
 search in the vicinity of my office and 
 throughout the town. No trace. I started 
 for the conclave after you. I hoped to find 
 you here, and here I came. That is how I 
 happen to be here." 
 
 The doctor's graphic story bewildered and 
 yet aroused Le Britta. 
 
 His eyes scintillated with anxiety and ex- 
 citement.
 
 235 
 
 " Dick ! " he ejaculated, " we must find that 
 man." 
 
 " I should say so ! " 
 
 " You think he came here ? " 
 
 " I think he started for here." 
 
 " In quest of the hidden treasure ? " 
 
 " What else ? " 
 
 " He may have fallen by the way." 
 
 "That is probable, but this is the end of 
 the trail to guard. Possibly I am here 
 ahead of him. He would have to travel 
 slowly. There is no doubt in my mind but 
 that he has changed his mind, and, his 
 strength returned and his old covetousness 
 revived, he wishes to secure the treasure." 
 
 " We must stop him ! " 
 
 " Rather anticipate him. You see, Le 
 Britta, he may not have arrived. If we 
 secure the treasure or find it intact, one of us 
 will remain at the spot where it is hidden and 
 await the tramp's coming. The other, if he 
 does not soon arrive, will go back toward 
 home, and try to find him on the way hither." 
 
 " Dick ! you are a jewel to plan ! " spoke 
 Le Britta, gratefully. " That will be the move 
 to make, for, if the tramp has his senses
 
 236 
 
 again, all the more reason than ever that we 
 keep him closely guarded and near us." 
 
 " You mean ? " 
 
 "That we may as soon as possible con- 
 front that villain Durand with him, and clip 
 his wings effectually by proving him, on the 
 tramp's clear evidence, to be the murderer 
 of old Gideon Vernon ! " 
 
 The two friends hurried on, Le Britta lead- 
 ing the way toward the nearest house. 
 
 " Wait here," he said, upon reaching a 
 small cottage. 
 
 He disappeared down the graveled walk, 
 and the waiting doctor heard him knock at 
 the rear door. Then there was a brief par- 
 ley, and Le Britta reappeared. 
 
 "I've borrowed a lantern," he announced, 
 
 "Then you intend" 
 
 "To go at once to the ravine." 
 
 "You think you can locate the spot?" 
 
 "Where the treasure is secreted? we 
 must ! " 
 
 "And at night!" 
 
 "The tramp may arrive at any moment. I 
 have explicit directions from the message he 
 had written. I looked over the ground to- 
 day, but believed the treasure to be safe
 
 237 
 
 enough for a later visit, and my thoughts 
 and time were occupied with poor Gladys 
 Vernon's affairs. If we can only recover the 
 tramp, her persecutions are over." 
 
 "And Ralph Durand's just began." 
 
 " Yes. Here we are. Down the path 
 here this is certainly the way Gideon 
 Vernon came the night of the murder, ac- 
 cording to the tramp's statement. There is 
 the large stone described. Hold the lantern. 
 Here is a clump of bushes. That's it ! Hold 
 the lantern higher. Now, then, hand it 
 down to me." 
 
 Le Britta, with the contents of the written 
 key to the secret treasure well memorized, 
 had led his companion down the ravine. 
 
 Step by step he had traced out the location 
 of the spot where Gideon Vernon had put 
 away his ready cash fortune to prevent it fall- 
 ing into unfriendly hands, and had died ere 
 he could communicate the secret to his 
 niece, Gladys. 
 
 " Here is the rock described," spoke Le 
 Britta, eagerly. " Yes, this is the exact spot, 
 but " 
 
 An ejaculation of consternation escaped his 
 lips. Dr. Richard Milton leaned over the
 
 238 
 
 edge of the ravine, thrilling at its ominous 
 echo. 
 
 "What is it?" he queried, in suspense. 
 "You have located the right spot?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And the treasure " 
 
 " We are too late !" announced Le Britta, 
 in a hollow tone of voice ; " the treasure is 
 gone ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 IN GLOOM. 
 
 GONE ! 
 
 Yes, the treasure was gone. The dismayed 
 Le Britta knew it at a glance, the startled 
 Doctor Milton realized the fact in a very few 
 moments of time. 
 
 It had been there, and recently too. The 
 correct hiding-place of the fortune had been 
 located. All these facts were soon verified, 
 but the situation could be summed up in 
 five little words - 
 
 They had come too late / 
 
 The tramp, Doctor Milton's mysterious 
 patient, had preceded them. 
 
 As Doctor Milton sprang down the rocky
 
 239 
 
 ledge to the side of his friend, and viewed 
 the spot in the flickering rays of the lantern, 
 he saw at a glance that there was real cause 
 for anxiety and consternation. 
 
 There lay a great flat stone overturned. 
 
 In the soft yielding earth beneath was the 
 impress of a broad wallet. 
 
 The dirt was disturbed, and the spot 
 showed evidences of a recent visit. 
 
 At first, the two friends feared that their 
 startling discovery might have some connec- 
 tion with the flight of Ralph Durand. 
 
 They momentarily chilled, as they reflected 
 that he might have discovered the hiding- 
 place of the fortune, have secured the treas- 
 ure, and have disappeared with it. 
 
 But, no ! Lying on the ground near the 
 stone was a piece of white cloth, and, picking 
 it up, Doctor Milton announced : 
 
 " The tramp was here ! " 
 
 " You are sure ? " breathed Le Britta, 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Positive." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "You see this piece of cloth? " 
 
 " Yes."
 
 240 
 
 " It is one of the bandages I placed on his 
 arm." 
 
 " Which he dropped here ? " 
 
 " In his rough haste in securing the treas- 
 ure, yes. That is the only solution to the 
 affair. The tramp has anticipated us. The 
 treasure is gone." 
 
 " Oh ! why did I not come here early this 
 morning," groaned Le Britta. 
 
 " No matter about that now." 
 
 " We must try to find the tramp." 
 
 " It will be more difficult to trace a man 
 ".nknown than a person like Ralph Durand. 
 Le Britta, I fear we are at odds with fate. 
 We have lost the game." 
 
 It looked so. Within an hour the two 
 friends were at the village. 
 
 Promised reward spurred the town officials 
 to send out their men in quest of the tramp 
 as described by the photographer. 
 
 All the next day both Le Britta and the 
 doctor personally scoured the country for 
 some trace of the man who had rewarded 
 their kindness by carrying away a royal fort- 
 une. 
 
 Two nights later, discouraged and baffled,
 
 241 
 
 the friends left the vicinity of Hawthorne 
 villa. 
 
 The doctor was nettled at being beaten ; 
 Le Britta felt discouraged, disheartened. 
 
 As a sudden storm sweeps a hill-top of 
 verdure in a moment of time, or a swooping 
 breeze changes the whole aspect of a placid 
 pool, so had the past two days disintegrated 
 and demolished the fabric of plot, counter- 
 plot and complication which had presented 
 itself as a tangible labyrinth to Le Britta. 
 
 Not a clue was in sight. Durand had dis- 
 appeared, taking with him Gladys Vernon 
 and Sydney Vance. 
 
 The tramp had secured the hidden fortune, 
 and was not to be found. 
 
 Justice slept ; the right had been defeated ; 
 wrong and cunning were seemingly triumph- 
 ant. 
 
 All that Le Britta had done in the interest 
 of justice had, it seemed, been of no avail. 
 
 Home and its endearments looked dark, 
 with a return signalized by disaster and 
 defeat, and duty half accomplished. 
 
 "That is the end of the Vernon case!" 
 sighed Doctor Milton, as the train neared 
 home. 
 
 16
 
 242 
 
 " No," replied Le Britta, " I cannot believe 
 it. It only sleeps we are shut out from 
 further present investigation, villainy is tri- 
 umphant, innocence persecuted, but 'the 
 mills of the gods grind slowly, but they 
 grind exceedingly small ! ' I feel in my 
 heart that we shall yet be called upon to 
 champion anew the cause of poor Gladys 
 Vernon. I feel that yet, face to face, skill 
 for skill, plot for plot, blow for blow, I shall 
 meet that double-hearted scoundrel, Ralph 
 Durand, and vanquish him ! " 
 
 Prophetic words ! The hour was to dawn, 
 the great Vernon case was to be revivified, 
 but at a time and in a manner little dreamed 
 of by the true-hearted photographer ! 
 
 For the present it slumbered, for the time 
 being all its obscured issues were hidden 
 completely from the public view. 
 
 And Jera Le Britta resumed his duties as 
 citizen, friend and a man of family, with many 
 a longing thought of the lives held under the 
 cruel domination of Ralph Durand's wicked 
 power, ' until one night, one dark, stormy 
 night, when the wind howled dismally and 
 the rain beat frantically at casement and 
 threshold, and the great wings of the storm
 
 243 
 
 flapped out the light of moon and stars, the 
 gifted artist opened the book of his life at a 
 new and an eventful page. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 A STRANGE GUIDE. 
 
 FIERCE rose the tempest ; darker and 
 wilder grew the night. 
 
 Such a night ! Jera Le Britta drew his 
 coat closer about his neck, drove his hat down 
 over his brow, bent his head to the storm 
 and plodded along the muddy road, splashing 
 in and out great ruts and puddles and almost 
 blindly forcing his way forward on his mis- 
 sion. 
 
 A mission in keeping with the night and 
 its devastating influences. A mission of life 
 or death, a self-imposed duty that stern 
 necessity had urged upon him. 
 
 For over a month he had been busy at his 
 studio. Since the distressing climax in the 
 affairs of the Vernons, Le Britta had devoted 
 his energies to his profession with renewed 
 vigor and enterprise. 
 
 The season was a brisk one and it had
 
 244 
 
 been all work little time for study or ex- 
 periment. He had to catch up to pay 
 with double labor for the hours he had 
 bestowed on the affairs of others. There 
 were old orders to fill, and new ones to 
 attend to. His industrious assistant, Maud, 
 had her hands full. Le Britta found barely 
 time to write to the Vernon lawyer, only to 
 receive the disheartening reply that no trace 
 of Gladys or Durand had been discovered. 
 
 The afternoon preceding that stormy night, 
 Doctor Milton had received a call from a 
 patient some thirty miles distant, who, hear- 
 ing of his rare skill, had sent for him. The 
 doctor had taken the train for his destination, 
 but just at dusk Le Britta received a telegram 
 bearing his friend's signature. 
 
 It told Le Britta briefly that the doctor 
 had found his patient in an extremely critical 
 condition ; that he needed a certain medicine 
 not to be obtained in the town near the home 
 of his patient, and it asked him to go to his 
 office and secure a certain phial. This he 
 was to hand to the express messenger on the 
 evening train, with instructions to deliver it 
 to a messenger waiting at the depot of the 
 town from which the telegram was dated.
 
 245 
 
 Circumstances tended to interfere with this 
 arrangement, however. In the first place, 
 the message was delayed in its delivery ; in 
 the next place, Le Britta found some difficulty 
 in securing the bottle the doctor needed. 
 
 When he hurried to the depot to catch the 
 express messenger, it was to see the train 
 just moving away. 
 
 "No train until midnight now," ruminated 
 Le Britta, concernedly. " I declare, it's too 
 bad ! Doctor Dick will be expecting the 
 medicine. He wouldn't go to all this trouble 
 about it if it wasn't important. He must have 
 it. What had I better do. I'll take it to 
 him." 
 
 Le Britta at once framed a dispatch to the 
 station-agent at the town where the doctor 
 was, asking him to inform Doctor Milton's 
 messenger that he had missed the train, but 
 would deliver the medicine in person as soon 
 as a fast horse could carry him thither. 
 
 Then, arranging some little studio details 
 that were necessary, Le Britta proceeded to 
 the nearest livery-stable and obtained the 
 fastest light turnout in the establishment. 
 
 It was dusk when he started. One hour
 
 246 
 
 later the storm overtook him. The darkness 
 was intense, the road unfamiliar. 
 
 Crash ! off went a wheel in a deep rut. 
 With a neigh of pain the horse sank down, 
 its forefoot disabled by a slip. 
 
 A light showed near by the only one 
 visible on the dreary landscape. Le Britta 
 hurried toward it, leading the horse. He 
 rapidly directed the humble occupant of the 
 house to care for the steed until the morrow, 
 inquired his way, and started on foot for his 
 destination, which, he learned, was five miles 
 straight ahead. 
 
 He was sorry that he had undertaken the 
 difficult task, less than a mile on his course. 
 The storm had redoubled its fury, the wind 
 now blew a perfect hurricane, and the rain 
 came down in sheets. In doubt he groped 
 his way forward. 
 
 "'Straight ahead,' he said," murmured Le 
 Britta, grimly, at last, as, wearied and breath- 
 less, he shrank to a tree for shelter. " It 
 strikes me that I am going decidedly crooked. 
 Hello ! I see my mistake now. This is no 
 road, it is not even a path I have strayed 
 from the highway I am lost !" 
 
 Ruefully Le Britta surveyed his surround-
 
 247 
 
 ings. Not a light glowed in the vicinity. He 
 was entirely at sea as to the distance, location 
 and even direction. The country was moder- 
 ately thickly settled in portions, however, 
 and he felt assured that forward progress 
 would eventually bring him to some habita- 
 tion. 
 
 On he plodded. Knee-deep he stumbled 
 into a bog. He struggled out of it to fall 
 into a pit. He clambered out of that to dash 
 into a lot of briers. 
 
 Wet, dismayed, harassed, the photog- 
 rapher almost despaired of reaching his 
 friend Doctor Milton before midnight. With 
 a glow of hope, he suddenly hurried forward, 
 however. 
 
 " A light ! " he ejaculated. " It seems quite 
 near at hand, too. If I can find some farmer 
 to hitch up and drive me to the town where 
 Dick is, I shall be all right." 
 
 It took Le Britta fully an hour to gain the 
 light that was less than half a mile distant. 
 A more desolate tract of land he had never 
 traversed. At one place quarry excavations 
 showed, at another felled timber almost ob- 
 structed his progress ; but finally, soaked 
 and panting from his arduous exertions, Le
 
 248 
 
 Britta came out upon a barren open space, 
 with about as miserable an apology for a 
 human habitation as he had ever seen, a few 
 rods beyond him. 
 
 It was a hut that the poorest of the poor 
 might consent to call home, and then only 
 under protest. It had but one window, and 
 that he^d only one whole pane of glass. 
 Through it, from a candle set on a rude deal- 
 table within a sparingly furnished room, 
 emanated the glow that had been, to him, a 
 beacon to safety and shelter. 
 
 The dripping eaves and the sides of the 
 hut were, however, a shield from the driving 
 wind, and Le Britta paused there and glanced 
 curiously in at the window. 
 
 A little wood fire blazed in the fireplace. 
 Near it, her head held in one hand in a 
 thoughtful, wearied pose, was a little girl of 
 about eleven years. 
 
 Her attire was of the coarsest and com- 
 monest fabrics, threadbare, and in places 
 frayed and tattered, but wonderfully clean. 
 Abject poverty surrounded her. It spoke in 
 the bare walls, the broken fragments of food 
 on the table, the pinched, wan face of the 
 child.
 
 249 
 
 That face, however, had something so 
 pathetic in it, something so strange and 
 pleading, that Le Britta's heart stirred and 
 thrilled as he gazed at its pure clear-cut pro- 
 file, as if he was surveying some artistic 
 portrait 
 
 He went around to the door and knocked. 
 The next minute it was opened. 
 
 " Who is it? " spoke the child, in a sweet, 
 gentle tone of voice. 
 
 "A stranger," responded Le Britta, "I 
 have lost my way in the storm. Are you all 
 alone here, my child ? Can I get no one to 
 guide me to Bayville ? " 
 
 Something in the sweet, loving face turned 
 toward him, puzzled him. The girl seemed 
 to look at him, and yet beyond him with a 
 blank, far-away expression in her strange 
 eyes. 
 
 "There is no one who could do that but 
 myself," she said. " It is only a quarter of a 
 mile to the road, and a mile down that to 
 Bayville." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Le Britta, "so near? 
 Thank you. I can find my way." 
 
 " I fear not, if you are a stranger," re- 
 sponded the girl in the same soft, well-modu-
 
 250 
 
 lated tones. 'There are deep pits to pass, 
 and to a stranger on such a night it would be 
 dangerous. Wait, sir, till I get my cloak and 
 hood, and I will lead you as far as the 
 road." 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! " 
 
 Le Britta stepped inside the hut. The 
 child walked about like one in a dream, so 
 slow and yet gliding were her movements. 
 She proceeded to a cupboard, and took out a 
 well-worn hood and cloak. 
 
 " I am ready," she said. 
 
 Le Britta retreated through the open door- 
 way. The little girl followed him, softly 
 closed the door, sighed anxiously, and then 
 seemed to grope out toward him. 
 
 " Let me take your hand," she said, sweetly. 
 " That is it," as he grasped the little hand 
 within his own. " Now, only keep by my 
 side, and be careful not to stumble. Only, 
 let me guide you." 
 
 "If you had a lantern," suggested Le 
 Britta, somehow deeply interested in the 
 gentle and careful movements of his strange 
 guide. 
 
 "A lantern?" repeated the child, softly.
 
 ' We have one, but it would be of no use to 
 me." 
 
 "No use why?" 
 
 "No, for I am blind!" 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE BLIND GIRL. 
 
 BLIND ! 
 
 Jera Le Britta stopped suddenly. For the 
 moment he was rendered speechless with 
 the surprise the simple, pathetic announcement 
 caused him. 
 
 "Blind!" he ejaculated, finally. "Oh! 
 my child." 
 
 "You fear to trust me to guide you?" 
 smiled the little girl. "You need not. Why, 
 I know every foot of the way, with no eyes at 
 all, better than those who have two of them. 
 Keep tight hold of my hand, only trust to me. 
 I will not let you fall into any of the pits, or 
 fall myself, never fear ! " 
 
 Jera Le Britta confessed to mingled emo- 
 tions the strangest he had ever experienced. 
 
 The situation was thrilling. He shud- 
 dered, as even in the blackness of. the night
 
 252 
 
 he could see deep excavations yawning at the 
 sides of the narrow path they pursued. His 
 guide advanced slowly, but unhesitatingly. 
 Sure-footed, possessed of some rare instinct- 
 ive gift of perception, she at last led her 
 startled companion to a point where a broad 
 highway ran, and down its far length gleamed 
 the lights of the town he had sought so 
 vainly. 
 
 For the present, however, Jera Le Britta's 
 thoughts were not on Doctor Milton or his 
 mission of the night. He forgot storm and 
 discomfort amid the deepest, tenderest inter- 
 est in the little child before him. 
 
 His heart was touched at her misfortune, 
 something in the sweet, pure face brought 
 the tears of pity and love to his eyes, and 
 made his heart beat the faster with sympathy. 
 
 " I do not know how to thank you," he 
 said, pressing a bank note in her palm. 
 
 "This is money, is it not?" she asked, 
 simply. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "And you can spare it I have earned it 
 honestly ? " 
 
 " Ten times over ! " cried Le Britta, deeply
 
 253 
 
 touched at the earnest probity of his little 
 guide. 
 
 " I thank you very much, then," she said 
 pathetically, " for I need it." 
 
 ' You do not live in that lonely place 
 alone, surely ? " spoke Le Britta. 
 
 "Almost," was the answer. " My aunt, 
 who is old and poorly, comes over once a 
 week from a farm on the ridge, where she 
 works, to stay all night, and mend my 
 clothes, and do things I cannot about the 
 house. She brings me food, too, but I earn 
 quite a little, carrying water to the quarry- 
 workers, daytimes." 
 
 " But your father your mother ?" 
 
 " My mother died two years ago," was the 
 answer, with a slight sob. " My father has 
 not been here since her funeral. He took to 
 drink, but I am keeping the house for him. 
 They wanted to send me to the poor-house, 
 but I wouldn't go. I promised my angel 
 mother to keep a shelter for poor father's 
 head, and I stay at the old hut. He will 
 conic some day oh, yes!" And the little 
 matronly creature sighed wisely, like a guard- 
 ian over a wayward charge. " Some day he 
 will get tired of the cruel drink, and will
 
 2 54 
 
 come home to nursing, and comfort, and 
 
 love ! " 
 
 " Poor, afflicted child ! " 
 
 Murmuring the words, Jera Le Britta stood 
 gazing after her as she bade him good-by, 
 and started back the way she had come. 
 
 He trembled for her safety, but, as the 
 darkness swallowed her up, he realized how 
 futile would be his blind gropings along that 
 narrow path ; he recalled her confident assur- 
 ances that she knew every foot of the way, 
 and had traversed it a thousand times. 
 
 " I shall not lose sight of the poor child," 
 he told himself, as he started down the road. 
 " How wicked for humanity blessed with 
 sight and reason to complain at trifles, when 
 that little waif is deprived of the gift of see- 
 ing, of friends, of even a decent shelter, and 
 yet patiently, almost cheerfully, assumes her 
 cross ! She interests me, she appeals to my 
 sympathy. I shall try and brighten her con- 
 dition in some way." 
 
 Le Britta pursued his way. He little 
 dreamed that he was indeed to see the little 
 child again, and that, too, sooner than he 
 had expected ; that her influence was to cast 
 a singular glow over his life, and to become
 
 255 
 
 strangely mingled with the plots that had 
 affected his recent interest in the great 
 Vernon case. 
 
 "The town at last," sighed Le Britta, as 
 wearied and wet to the skin he reached a 
 tavern. 
 
 Brief inquiries located the doctor and his 
 patient. Dr. Richard Milton greeted Le 
 Britta warmly, gratefully, when he heard his 
 narrative of the night's adventures. He ex- 
 plained the importance of the medicine he 
 had brought. 
 
 " I shall be with my patient most of the 
 night," he said. " You had better go to the 
 hotel, and get dry and keep warm after the 
 terrible exposure of the night." 
 
 "Can I not help you in any way?" 
 
 "No, thanks. I will call for you in the 
 morning." 
 
 "And we will return home together." 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 This was agreed on. Le Britta left the 
 doctor with his patient in a gloomy old man- 
 sion, and was soon tucked in a comfortable 
 bed, and in the land of dreams. 
 
 Doctor Milton appeared at dawn to report 
 his patient past the crisis and on the road to
 
 256 
 
 recovery, thanks to the potent medicine that 
 the photographer had brought, and they had 
 breakfast together. 
 
 Le Britta had not forgotten the little blind 
 girl. As they strolled toward the railroad 
 depot he related the details of his meeting 
 with the child. 
 
 " We have time to spare. Shall we go 
 and see her ? " he asked. 
 
 " I don't care," replied Doctor Milton. " It 
 is two hours to train time yet." 
 
 " I think I can find the hut," spoke Le 
 Britta. " Yes, it was in that direction, and 
 -look, Dick, look!" 
 
 Le Britta excitedly seized his companion's 
 arm and pointed down the road. 
 
 "Eh? What is it, Jera?" 
 
 "The very child!" 
 
 "The blind girl?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 An advancing figure enchained their mutual 
 attention. It was that of the blind child, and 
 she was hurrying toward the town as fast as 
 she could walk. 
 
 Le Britta advanced to intercept her. 
 
 " Wait, wait, my child ! " he said, seizing 
 her arm.
 
 257 
 
 The blind girl lifted her face to that of the 
 speaker with a quick, pleased smile. 
 
 " I know you I remember your voice ! " 
 she cried. 
 
 " Indeed ? " murmured Le Britta. 
 
 " Yes, you are the gentleman who gave 
 me the money last night. Oh, sir! do not 
 detain me just now. Oh, sir ! I have such 
 news ! " 
 
 Her face was aglow with emotion and ex- 
 citement as she soke. 
 
 1 Why are you going to the village what 
 is your hurry ?" queried Le Britta. 
 
 " I will tell you," she half-whispered, her 
 features scintillating with joy "oh, sir! he 
 has come back ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 CLUE OR MISTAKE? 
 
 " HE has come back ! " 
 
 The illuminated face of the little child, the 
 accents of pride, delight and affection in her 
 gentle voice, were indescribable as she ut- 
 tered the fervent words. Deeply interested, 
 
 Le Britta asked : 
 
 17
 
 258 
 
 " You mean your father?" 
 
 "Yes, poor old father! I knew it, I told 
 you so. He's come back, but, oh ! " and the 
 face fell to sadness and anxiety, "he's come 
 back so worn, so ill, may be dying ! " she 
 concluded, in a tone sunk to a whisper of 
 terror. 
 
 The two friends exchanged glances of in- 
 terest and sympathy. 
 
 " And where were you going ?" asked Le 
 Britta. 
 
 "To the village. I must get a doctor. 
 The money you gave me last night will pay 
 for one, will it not." 
 
 " My friend here with me is a physician," 
 interrupted the photographer. 
 
 " Oh ! I am so glad." 
 
 " And he will charge you nothing. Come, 
 doctor, we may be of use to the child's 
 father." 
 
 " Oh ! how kind you are," murmured the 
 girl, fervently. 
 
 She led the way from the town, the others 
 following. Her accuracy of step engrossed 
 the doctor. She seemed to feel her way with 
 her feet, and never stumbled or made a mis- 
 step.
 
 259 
 
 Into the wretched hut Edna for she had 
 told them that was her name ushered 
 them. 
 
 "Where is your father?" asked Le Britta. 
 
 Edna pointed to the next room. 
 
 " He is in there. You will try and make 
 him well, won't you ? " 
 
 "We will, indeed!" 
 
 Doctor Milton removed his hat, and ad- 
 vanced to the door of the little apartment. 
 He entered it. Le Britta, watching the girl, 
 was startled by a sudden ejaculation a minute 
 later. Immediately thereafter, Doctor Milton, 
 with a startled face, reappeared. 
 
 " Le Britta!" he almost gasped, "come 
 here." 
 
 "What is it, Dick?" 
 
 Doctor Milton pointed to a low cot on 
 which lay the figure of a man. 
 
 " Do you know him ? " he queried. 
 
 " How should I, a stranger?" 
 
 " Look closer." 
 
 "Mercy! Dick, it is"- 
 
 "The tramp!" 
 
 Staring in unfeigned amazement, the two 
 friends stood regarding the figure on the 
 couch.
 
 260 
 
 It was the tramp the beneficiary of Dr. 
 Richard Milton's kindness in the past the 
 homeless wanderer who had imparted to 
 them the secret of the hidden treasure in the 
 ravine at Hawthorne villa. 
 
 Thinner, paler, weaker than ever, there he 
 lay. The man they had sought for so ardu- 
 ously and unsuccessfully, the man who had 
 evidently secured the Vernon fortune, was 
 before them. 
 
 Satisfaction at his discovery was obscured 
 by the profound surprise experienced by 
 both Le Britta and the doctor, as they mar- 
 veled at the strange workings of providence 
 that had brought the man hither, that had led 
 them to his side. 
 
 "Dick, it's fate ! " gasped Le Britta. 
 
 " It is a marvelous occurrence," assented 
 the doctor. "Evidently, he is little Edna's 
 father. His condition shows that he was 
 forced to find shelter, to seek rest and nurs- 
 ing, or die." 
 
 " Is he very ill ?" 
 
 " Give me time to ascertain." 
 
 For over an hour, Dr. Richard Milton 
 worked over the invalid. Finally he re- 
 turned to the larger room, where little Edna
 
 26l 
 
 sat, a prey to vivid emotions that showed 
 plainly on her impressionable face. Light 
 as was his footstep, she caught its sound and 
 glided to his side. 
 
 " Is he very ill, doctor ? " she queried, 
 solicitously. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Will he will he die?" 
 
 " I think not. We shall do all we can for 
 him, at least." 
 
 The doctor beckoned to Le Britta, and 
 both went outside the hut. 
 
 ' Well ? " queried the latter, eagerly. 
 
 ' The final reaction has come," announced 
 the doctor. 
 
 "You mean ? " 
 
 " Collapse." 
 
 " He is conscious." 
 
 "No fever! I can only theorize as to 
 how he has passed the days since his escape 
 from us. The stimulant phial has probably 
 kept up an artificial strength. He secured 
 the treasure wandered here, and it will 
 be days, it may be weeks, before he knows 
 another lucid moment. 
 
 Le Britta looked anxious.
 
 262 
 
 "And the money the fortune the hun- 
 dred thousand dollars ? " he began. 
 
 The doctor shook his head dubiously. 
 
 " I have taken the precaution of searching 
 him," he said. " He had not so much as a 
 single dollar about him." 
 
 " Then he must have hidden it somewhere." 
 
 "It looks so." 
 
 "Where, I wonder?" 
 
 " That we must find out." 
 
 "How?' 
 
 "You shall see. We must be patient and 
 cautious this time. This man's secret is an 
 important one to Gladys Vernon. I must 
 return to my patients, and you need not neg- 
 lect your business. Leave it all to me." 
 
 At noon that day, the two friends left for 
 home by rail. 
 
 Doctor Milton had secured the services of 
 a young medical student. The latter was a 
 warm friend of the doctor, and he intrusted 
 him with just sufficient knowledge of the cir- 
 cumstances of the case, to be sure he would 
 act with promptness and fidelity in his 
 interests. 
 
 He introduced the young man at the hut 
 as a nurse for the invalid, and little Edna
 
 263 
 
 thanked them sobbingly for the comforts 
 with which they surrounded herself and her 
 suffering father. 
 
 "And now we must wait patiently," an- 
 nounced Doctor Milton, as they reached 
 home. 
 
 " For what ? " queried Le Britta. 
 
 " For word from the man in charge of the 
 tramp." 
 
 " Concerning the treasure ? " 
 
 " Concerning everything about the tramp 
 of interest to us, yes. He will not allow his 
 patient to escape again. As soon as he re- 
 covers or becomes conscious, he is to tele- 
 graph for us." 
 
 Several days passed by with only a formal 
 report as to the condition of the tramp. 
 Toward the latter part of the week, how- 
 ever, Doctor Milton received a letter, the 
 contents of which excited him strangely. 
 
 He hastened to Le Britta's studio, and was 
 soon closeted with the photographer. 
 
 "News?" queried the latter, eagerly. 
 
 " Yes, important news. Read that." 
 
 It was a letter from the young medical stu- 
 dent. It detailed the course of the tramp's 
 fever, and it ended with the words :
 
 264 
 
 "You gave me just an Inkling of the fact 
 that your main anxiety outside of the man's 
 recovery, was to learn where he had hidden 
 certain moneys. 
 
 "This fact I have not positively ascertained, 
 but from words spoken by the invalid I can 
 give you a clue. 
 
 "Years ago, he was quite a successful busi- 
 ness man, and had a partner. His child 
 verifies this. 
 
 " Of this partner he has raved considera- 
 bly, and I am satisfied that he has recently 
 seen him. 
 
 " More than that, I am satisfied that he 
 visited this man, and intrusted to him a 
 large amount of money possibly the money 
 you are so anxious about. * 
 
 " Later, he again visited him and demanded 
 his money back. The man denied ever re- 
 ceiving it. 
 
 "This man lives in the city. His name 
 is" 
 
 Le Britta started incredulously as he read 
 the words that followed. 
 
 For they constituted a name belonging to 
 one of the greatest social lights, one of the 
 wealthiest merchants of the city where the
 
 265 
 
 conclave had just been held Darius Mer- 
 edith. 
 A clue or a mistake ! Which ? 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 HYPNOTISM. 
 
 "MR. LE BRITTA!" 
 
 The name was spoken amid a glare of 
 splendor and light. It announced a guest in 
 the drawing-room of one of the stateliest 
 mansions in the city. 
 
 For a week the photographer had planned 
 for this moment, which was to mark the initial 
 step in a new venture that had for its motive 
 the final securing of the Vernon treasure. 
 
 Upon the receipt of that letter from the 
 medical student in charge of the tramp, the 
 doctor and Le Britta had held a long, serious 
 conversation. 
 
 Then a hurried visit to the city had ensued, 
 a secret investigation into the character of 
 Darius Meredith, and then the two friends 
 had arrived at a definite conclusion. 
 
 From what they could learn of the tramp's 
 past, and his association with this man,
 
 266 
 
 Meredith, one fact seemed certain they had 
 once been business partners. 
 
 To the world Meredith was an honored, 
 successful business man, in reality he was a 
 thoroughly bad-hearted man. It made the 
 open-minded Le Britta sick at soul, to con- 
 template so much hypocrisy veiled by the 
 mask of social eminence. 
 
 Meredith was a gambler, a usurer, a hard- 
 fisted employer. Many a dishonorable quirk 
 in his business evidenced his deceit and wick- 
 edness, and the two friends soon knew the 
 man they had to handle. 
 
 Of a surety, from what they learned, the 
 tramp, after securing the treasure, weak, sick, 
 fearful of pursuit, had gone to the partner of 
 his better days, and had intrusted to his 
 charge the custody of the precious packet 
 that contained the Vernon treasure. 
 
 Later, demanding its return, he had been 
 repulsed, ejected from the sumptuous home 
 of Meredith, and even threatened with arrest. 
 
 Meredith certainly had the money. How 
 to establish that fact beyond a legal doubt, 
 and recover it, was now the mission of Le 
 Britta, and it would prove a delicate and a 
 difficult task, he felt sure.
 
 267 
 
 Finally, his plan was developed, however. 
 Through a letter from Doctor Milton he 
 secured an invitation to the home of a lady 
 who was a belle in city society, and where he 
 knew Meredith was an honored guest. 
 
 Upon the evening in question, arrayed in 
 full evening dress, his courtly bearing and 
 familiarity with the usages of good society 
 enabling him to act his part circumspectly, 
 Le Britta found himself in the gay drawing- 
 rooms of the fashionable mansion. 
 
 Its fair hostess greated him cordially. An 
 hour later, Le Britta had secured an intro- 
 duction to Meredith. Before the evening 
 had passed he had succeded in winning the 
 complete good graces of the man. 
 
 The next evening they met again. Two 
 nights thereafter, to the satisfaction of 
 Le Britta, Meredith invited him to his home. 
 
 It was the culmination of his hopes. He 
 was working slowly, deftly, for a result. 
 
 As he rang at the portals of the stately 
 home of Darius Meredith that evening, the 
 photographer's eyes flashed confidently as he 
 murmured : 
 
 "The opportunity has arrived ! It will be 
 a battle to the finish, instead of an evening
 
 268 
 
 call, Mr. Darius Meredith, and I shall win ! " 
 As he spoke he fondled in his coat-pocket 
 a tiny phial that Dr. Richard Milton had 
 given him. 
 
 " That little cordial is my resource ! " he 
 soliloquized. " Now to test the doctor's 
 scheme to learn what has become of the 
 Vernon fortune. An hour's interview with 
 Meredith, that little phial produced, and then 
 hypnotism!" was Le Britta's remarkable 
 conclusion, as he entered the stately home 
 of the man he had come to unmask. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE EXPERIMENT. 
 
 JERA LE BRITTA braced himself for a con- 
 flict, as he found himself seated in the luxu- 
 rious lounging-room of Darius Meredith. 
 
 With that keen mental prescience that 
 rendered him an accurate physiognomist, the 
 photographer read as in a mirror the mind 
 of his host. To outward semblance a thrifty 
 business man, respectable and honest, from 
 what he had learned and surmised, Le Britta 
 was satisfied that he was a black-hearted 
 scoundrel in reality.
 
 269 
 
 Furthermore, he was assured that he had 
 possession of the Vernon fortune. 
 
 As in a dream, Jera Le Britta in a flash 
 went over all the details of the strange case 
 that had brought about the present culmina- 
 tion. 
 
 Upon him devolved a sacred duty the 
 righting of a wrong, the unmasking of vil- 
 lainy, the disentangling of a mighty web. 
 
 All his efforts tended to the recovery of 
 Gladys Vernon, the finding of her lover, 
 Sydney Vance, the conviction of the real 
 murderer, Ralph Durand, the securing of the 
 vast fortune hidden by the dead Vernon, 
 found by the dead or dying tramp, now 
 held as lawful booty by the unprincipled 
 schemer before him. 
 
 For days Le Britta had studied the char- 
 acter of Darius Meredith. He had slowly 
 acquired information regarding him. He had 
 simmered him down as a glib, smooth 
 schemer, as a bold, defiant enemy. No 
 amount of pleading would ever wrest money 
 from this unscrupulous villain. It must be 
 aggressive, yet secret cunning that would 
 win the victory ! 
 
 So firmly resolved to bring affairs to a
 
 270 
 
 speedy issue, determined to make a final ef- 
 fort to cause the wealthy thief to disgorge 
 his ill-gotten gains, Le Britta summed up his 
 mysterious designs in that single expressive, 
 and yet ominous word, 
 
 " Hypnotism ! " 
 
 The photographer was no superstitious be- 
 liever in the occult sciences clairvoyance, 
 second sight, and the like. In the mysteries 
 of magnetism, mind-reading and mesmerism, 
 however, he had witnessed many peculiar 
 experiments. 
 
 He knew that a strong will could dominate 
 a weaker one, that the glittering eye of a 
 serpent has power to magnetize the bird, just 
 as the diamond in the hands of the hypnotist 
 allures the sight of the subject until visual 
 concentration fades into a glamour of the 
 senses. He knew, also, that when a person 
 is mesmerized he is under the direction of 
 the operator. 
 
 In his pocket Le Britta carried a little phial. 
 It was to be an agent in the execution of his 
 project in case his first resource failed. It 
 contained a volatile preparation having the 
 same properties as ether. Once adminis- 
 tered, it stimulated the senses, yet befogged
 
 271 
 
 the judgment. It unloosed the tongue, it sent 
 the natural secretive instincts rioting, and 
 developed the true hidden nature of the vic- 
 tim. Thus, under its influence, a miser would 
 babble of his gold, a gambler would imagine 
 he was playing for a stake of millions, a mus- 
 ical person would sing, and a solemn individ- 
 ual would weep. 
 
 Le Britta had determined to learn what 
 had become of the missing Vernon fortune. 
 This man, Darius Meredith, had received it 
 from the tramp, undoubtedly, and had misap- 
 propriated it. It was, furthermore, probable 
 that, having driven the tramp away and de- 
 nied ever having received the money, he 
 would not convert it immediately to his own 
 use for fear a later investigation might trace 
 it. He possibly had it hidden somewhere, 
 and, acting upon this conjecture, Le Britta 
 prepared himself to find out where. 
 
 Meredith received him cordially. He was 
 a shrewd man. While Le Britta was culti- 
 vating his friendship diligently so as to win 
 his confidence, the scheming wolf in sheep's 
 clothing fancied he was getting in his clutches 
 a new victim to pluck. Le Britta seemed to 
 have plenty of money, he had acted the inno-
 
 272 
 
 cent, inexperienced and inoffensive society 
 idler to perfection. Meredith had invited 
 him to his house to treat him well, to profess 
 great friendship for him, and later, to lead him 
 into gambling, when he would fleece him of 
 all his available cash. 
 
 Le Britta found preparations for a pleasant 
 evening in the cozy library. The shades 
 were drawn, the gas brilliantly lighted, and 
 wine, cigars and cards were near at hand. 
 He never smoked, drank nor gambled, but, 
 even at the risk of slight nausea, he took a 
 few puffs at a havana, his mental excuse 
 being the exigencies of the occasion, and 
 was soon engaged in a brisk conversation 
 with his host. 
 
 The latter discussed business, society and 
 politics. Then he began descanting on the 
 rare good fortune attending some of his re- 
 cent speculations. Then he drifted to cards. 
 
 "A quiet game, once in awhile, is a relax- 
 ation," remarked Meredith. " A small stake 
 makes it still more interesting. I had quite a 
 run of luck with the governor's adjutant a few 
 evenings since. Won enough to invest in a 
 new diamond pin. Am having it reset now. 
 By the way, Le Britta, suppose we have ?
 
 273 
 round at poker, just to while the time away." 
 
 Le Britta ascertained that the conversation 
 had reached a critical point. He never 
 played cards, in fact, he was ignorant of the 
 details of any game of chance. If he con- 
 fessed this Meredith would probably shorten 
 the interview peremptorily and defeat his in- 
 tentions. On the other hand, if he feigned 
 to play, Meredith would win his money, and 
 Le Britta could scarcely afford to lose any- 
 thing, even in pursuit of a cherished purpose. 
 
 "I'll try my experiment," he murmured, 
 decisively. " Now or never! " 
 
 Meredith had arisen to secure a card-case 
 from the side-board. His half-filled glass of 
 wine on the table stood temptingly near to 
 Le Britta. 
 
 Quick as a flash the latter drew the tiny phial 
 from his pocket. Deftly he uncorked it. 
 With a rapid movement he reached over and 
 reversed the little bottle. Only a part of its 
 contents fell into the wine glass, but he felt 
 sure there was sufficient to affect his intended 
 victim. 
 
 Meredith resumed his seat, all unconscious 
 of this little side-play. He began shuffling 
 the cards. 
 
 18
 
 274 
 
 " Oh ! by the way," remarked Le Britta. 
 "You were speaking of diamonds." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Did you ever notice this ring I wear ? " 
 
 As he spoke the photographer showed a 
 small but exquisitely chiseled diamond on a 
 finger of his left hand. 
 
 " No ; not particularly." 
 
 To Le Britta's satisfaction, as Meredith 
 turned his eyes upon the circlet in question, 
 he mechanically raised the wine-glass to his 
 lips and drained its contents. 
 
 He started slightly with a quick grimace, 
 and seemed to detect the peculiar flavor of 
 the liquor, but Le Britta hastened to divert 
 his attention from the drugged wine by re- 
 moving his finger-ring. He held the gleam- 
 ing gem in the full radiance of the light, and 
 said : 
 
 " Just keep your eyes fixed on the diamond, 
 Mr. Meredith, and observe how peculiarly the 
 facets reflect the light." 
 
 Now, this was a ruse. Understanding the 
 modus operandi of hypnotism, Le Britta 
 was proceeding in a line with the system 
 adopted by its most skillful exponents. They 
 fascinate a subject's gaze first, and then cen-
 
 275 
 
 tralizing all their mesmeric strength en- 
 deavor to force the subject into hypnotic 
 sleep. 
 
 Le Britta brought all the energy of his will 
 to subjugate Meredith. He was disappointed 
 at the result, however, for Meredith puffed 
 coolly at his cigar, and there was not a par- 
 ticle of evidence in the hard, evil face that he 
 was affected by either the drug or the mes- 
 meric efforts of his guest. 
 
 Suddenly, about to turn his eyes away 
 from the diamond with some indifferent re- 
 mark as to its beauty, Meredith started. 
 
 Caused by some sudden dizzying effect of 
 the medicine, an observation of Le Britta's 
 steady glance or a latent taste of the drugged 
 liquor in his mouth, Meredith shot a pene- 
 trating look at his companion. 
 
 Le Britta, engrossed in hypnotizing him, 
 did not observe the suspicious movement. 
 Meredith veiled his glance with a grim ex- 
 pression. Then, noticing the spot on the 
 table, where half the contents of the phial 
 had been spilled, his lips became compressed. 
 
 He fixed his eyes again on the diamond 
 ring extended by Le Britta, the cigar dropped
 
 276 
 
 to the table, he drew back, and then his 
 eyes began to close. 
 
 A quick flush of delight sprung to Le 
 Britta's cheek. Not for a moment did he 
 doubt but that the combined mesmeric influ- 
 ence and the drug had conduced to bring his 
 companion under his influence completely. 
 
 " Success ! " he breathed, fervently. " My 
 man is hypnotized ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 DUPED ! 
 
 " AND now for his secret ! " 
 
 Le Britta arose cautiously and approached 
 Meredith, who had sank back in his chair 
 until his body had assumed a half-recumbent 
 position. He imitated professional hypnot- 
 ists, by making several passes before the 
 subject ; then he stroked his eyes ; they 
 opened. 
 
 The unsuspicious photographer was satis- 
 fied that his experiment had succeeded in 
 every particular. Meredith was certainly in 
 a mesmeric trance. His appearance indi- 
 cated the fact plainly. Le Britta kept his
 
 277 
 
 eye fixed upon him in silence for a moment 
 or two. Then he directed, in a low, steady 
 tone of voice : 
 
 'Turn that wine glass upside down." 
 
 Meredith put forth his hand and obeyed. 
 
 " Arise to your feet." 
 
 Meredith struggled to an erect position, 
 steadying himself on the back of the chair. 
 
 "Will you answer me some questions?" 
 was the next query. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You know a man named Dave Wharton, 
 a tramp ? " 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " He was your former business partner ? " 
 
 Meredith swayed slightly, and he hesitated 
 a moment or two before replying. His eyes 
 were rather clear and intelligent for a person 
 under mesmeric spell, but he finally said : 
 
 " Yes, he was." 
 
 " Have you seen him lately ?" 
 
 No reply. 
 
 " Did he not come to you a little over a 
 week ago ? " 
 
 Stubborn silence. 
 
 "Answer!" ordered Le Britta. 
 
 " He may have done so."
 
 278 
 
 " And brought a package of money ? It 
 was intrusted to your keeping. He returned 
 for it. You denied having it. Speak ! " 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 Meredith uttered the ejaculation with en- 
 ergy. His eyes dilated. 
 
 " That package you must give to me. Do 
 you understand?" 
 
 It seemed as if Meredith was about to 
 spring upon Le Britta. His eyes glared, his 
 fingers worked nervously. Then, of a sud- 
 den, his face resumed its vacant expression, 
 and he murmured. 
 
 "You want it?" 
 
 " I must have it ! " rejoined Le Britta, 
 firmly. *" It is in the house ? " 
 
 " Probably." 
 
 " In this room ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Where, then ? " 
 
 "Shall I lead you to it?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Come ! " 
 
 Meredith started for the door, Le Britta 
 followed him. In the hall, he took up a 
 lighted lamp. Down a corridor he proceed- 
 ed, stopped at a door, took a key from his
 
 279 
 
 pocket, unlocked it, and, entering the apart- 
 ment, placed the lamp on a little table in the 
 center of the room. 
 
 Le Britta gazed curiously about the apart- 
 ment. It seemed to be a sort of study or 
 business room, for it had a desk, and, sunk 
 in the wall of one side, a huge iron door 
 resembling that of a bank vault. This door 
 had the conventional combination lock and 
 knob. 
 
 Meredith swayed dreamily. He really ap- 
 peared like a man under the combined 
 influent of narcotics and mesmeric force. 
 
 "Is it here that I shall find the package 
 belonging to the tramp ? " queried Le Britta, 
 sharply. 
 
 The other nodded affirmatively. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 Meredith pointed to the vault door. 
 
 11 It is in there ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Le Britta sprang to the door, but found it 
 secured. 
 
 "Can you open it?" he queried, eagerly. 
 
 " I can." 
 
 " Do so." 
 
 Meredith approached the door, set the dial
 
 280 
 
 against the indented disc figures, swirled it 
 once or twice, and the door swung back. 
 
 Shelves and cases showed within, crammed 
 full of papers. 
 
 "Go and get the package," ordered Le 
 Britta. 
 
 Meredith took a step forward. Then he 
 reeled, recoiled, and sank to a chair. 
 
 His head fell upon his breast. Le Britta, 
 alarmed at a fear of failure in his mission 
 when so vitally near to apparent success, 
 seized his arm roughly. 
 
 "Arouse yourself, I order you ; " he spoke, 
 hurriedly and with force. 
 
 Meredith only mumbled a few incoherent 
 words. 
 
 " Get the package ! " 
 . "No!" 
 
 "You must!" 
 
 " I cannot. You get it." 
 
 " The drug has dulled the mesmeric intelli- 
 gence," murmured Le Britta, apprehensively. 
 "Come, Meredith ! You tell me to get the 
 package ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Where is it?" 
 
 " In the vault."
 
 28l 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Left hand cabinet. Lower drawer." 
 
 With an exultant cry, Le Britta sprang 
 into the vault. 
 
 The light from the outer room illumined 
 its dark corners sufficiently to show the cab- 
 inet described. 
 
 Toward this the photographer advanced, 
 his heart beating high with hope. 
 
 Sudden darkness supervened. Suddenly, 
 too, horror sent his blood curdling in every 
 vein. 
 
 He dimly saw Meredith, his face wreathed 
 with cunning triumph, spring to the door. 
 There was a crash and a mocking, exultant 
 laugh. 
 
 Then 
 
 Announcing defeat, peril, deep, decisive, 
 unmasking the clever rogue who had pene- 
 trated his designs and led him into a trap, a 
 resounding echo told Le Britta that he was 
 caged, in the toils of a shrewder man than 
 himself.
 
 282 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 A DARK NIGHT'S WORK. 
 
 THE hypocritical scoundrel who posed 
 before the community as a business man of 
 probity and enterprise, and yet who was at 
 heart a conscienceless villain, Darius Mere- 
 dith, uttered a chuckling cry of satisfaction. 
 
 The ponderous iron door was shut with a 
 crash. In a second more, click-clicketty- 
 clack ! went the tumblers shut into their 
 lock. 
 
 "Caged!" muttered Meredith. "I sus- 
 pected his game. The drug and his looks 
 betrayed him. I decoyed him here. Aye ! 
 yell my friend, you'll bide my will, now." 
 
 Meredith sat down at the table, a muffled 
 sound echoed from behind the iron door, but 
 he paid not the slightest attention to it. 
 
 " I've got him safe," he reflected. " Now 
 to think out this complication. What does 
 it mean ? Who is this man ? A detective 
 in disguise ? Scarcely, for his credentials 
 come too straight. Yet he has shadowed 
 me has purposely cultivated my acquaint- 
 ance. He knows my former business part-
 
 283 
 
 ner, the tramp he knows that the package 
 was intrusted to my keeping. How ? Has 
 Wharton told him ? How far can they prove 
 my possession of that money ? I must think 
 out this unexpected complication. I am fore- 
 warned. How much does this fellow Le 
 Britta know ? " 
 
 For fully ten minutes the plotter medi- 
 tated, his sinister brows bent in a thoughtful 
 scowl. 
 
 " I have it ! " he cried at last, arising sud- 
 denly to his feet. "I will release Le Britta, 
 but at the point of a revolver. He will be 
 weak, inert, passive from imprisonment in 
 that close vault. I will force him to tell me 
 all he knows. Ah ! what is that ? " 
 
 At a window something seemed to tap - 
 to fade in the outer darkness as he glanced 
 thither, startled. 
 
 He ran to it, peered anxiously out, and 
 then drew the shade closer, with the careless 
 remark : 
 
 " The wind blowing a branch of the oak 
 against the panes." 
 
 Then he took out a revolver. Approach- 
 ing .the vault, the weapon in his hand, he un 
 locked its door.
 
 284 
 
 " Come out ! " he ordered. 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 He threw the door wide open. 
 
 " Come out, I say ! " he repeated, loudly, 
 " only, I am armed, and will shoot if you at- 
 tempt to escape from this room. Hello ! " 
 
 The revolver went clanging to the floor. 
 Aghast, the plotter stood, rooted to the spot, 
 in dismay and horror. 
 
 Across the stone floor of the vault lay a 
 prostrate form Le Britta. 
 
 The air-tight compartment had done its 
 deadly work. Its victim lay motionless. 
 
 Meredith at last stooped over and turned 
 the face of the prostrate man toward the 
 light. Its pallor terrified him. 
 
 He examined the heart. No pulsation 
 there. 
 
 " Mercy ! " he gasped, tottering like a 
 drunken man. "I have killed him. Itis- 
 murder /" 
 
 His face was the color of ashes, his nerve- 
 less hands began to tremble. 
 
 What should he do ? Here was crime. 
 Here was peril. He shuddered as the grue- 
 some shadows about him seemed to frame
 
 the somber outlines of a prison cell, the felon's 
 dock, the scaffold ! 
 
 Then fright, deadly fear, impelled him to 
 sudden, frantic action. 
 
 He dashed from the room, out into the 
 yard, into the stables. He hitched up a fast 
 horse to a close buggy. Then back he sped 
 to the vault apartment. 
 
 His victim lay as he had left him. He 
 seized him in his arms, bore him down a dark 
 corridor, out into the garden, through the 
 stable, and, placing the limp form in the 
 bottom of the buggy, covered it with a horse- 
 blanket. 
 
 In five minutes he was traversing an un- 
 frequented road leading to the suburbs. In 
 half an hour he was in the open country. 
 
 Once he halted the horse on a rustic bridge, 
 and seemed about the lift the body of his 
 victim and destroy all trace of his crime by 
 casting it over the rail to the raging stream 
 below. 
 
 The approach of a pedestrian sent him 
 speeding on, however. For miles he traveled 
 a cheerless highway. 
 
 Finally he made out a dismantled structure 
 standing back from the road. It was a place
 
 286 
 
 familiar to him, a residence some years since 
 devastated by fire. . 
 
 "Just the place!" he ejaculated. "No 
 one goes there. I'll hide the body in the 
 cellar. It will never be discovered." 
 
 He entered the house, staggering under 
 his burden. He reappeared bearing the 
 blanket, glancing apprehensively back ever 
 and anon, and hurrying on the jaded steed 
 once again in the vehicle. 
 
 " That disposes of him," he muttered. " I 
 did not mean to kill him. He brought it on 
 himself. No one will ever know. What a 
 dolt ! I forgot to lock up the vault. Should 
 a burglar enter the house and find his way to 
 that room he might beggar me." 
 
 Utterly heartless, Darius Meredith grew 
 almost cheerful as he neared home again. 
 A dangerous enemy had been removed from 
 his path. The low-souled scoundrel actually 
 congratulated himself on his dark night's 
 work. 
 
 He entered the house and hastened to the 
 apartment where Jera Le Britta had battled 
 fate and had been defeated. 
 
 The lamp still burned on the table. The 
 vault door was still open.
 
 287 
 
 Entering the vault, Meredith examined its 
 interior. 
 
 "All safe!" he muttered, "and the pack- 
 
 it 
 age 
 
 He sought to make sure of it by pulling 
 open a drawer and gazing into it. 
 
 An awful cry escaped his lips as he did so. 
 
 " Empty gone ! " he gasped. " Robbed! 
 The money" 
 
 Was not there ! He reeled into the outer 
 room. Almost fainting, he felt a cold breath 
 of air revive his tottering sensibilities. 
 
 With a wild cry he observed that a win- 
 dow was open. 
 
 And then the truth paralyzed mind and 
 heart, as it flashed across him with the in- 
 tensity of a lightning shock. 
 
 During his absence some one had opened 
 a window, and, entering the apartment, had 
 stolen the treasured package ! 
 
 There could be no doubt of it, and the 
 plotter's heart stood still as he asked himself 
 the question : 
 
 Had this mysterious person, as well, wit- 
 nessed the crime that, proven, would send 
 him to the gallows?
 
 288 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE BORDERLAND. 
 
 THERE is no agent of death more potent 
 and yet deceptive in its effects than that 
 which induces dissolution by means of suffo- 
 ^ation. 
 
 In drowning, and the results of smothering 
 gases, no trace of violence exists. There is 
 a certain painless fading into insensibility, 
 and a suspension of the natural forces of the 
 frame that is marked and alarming, even be- 
 fore death arrives. 
 
 The shock to the system clogs the circula- 
 tion, deadens the brain, chokes the lungs. 
 It is intense, and often, even where the victim 
 has not absolutely reached the danger point, 
 there seems to be an absolute cessation of 
 vitality. 
 
 The superficial examination of his victim 
 made by Meredith after discovering Le 
 Britta's insensibility in the vault, tended to 
 satisfy him that the photograher was dead. 
 He could detect no pulse or respiration, 
 while the bloodless lips and leaden eyelids
 
 289 
 
 added a ghastly aspect to the face of his 
 decoyed guest. 
 
 During that long drive into the country, 
 Le Britta did not betoken one sign of return- 
 ing consciousness, and when he was lifted 
 from the buggy and carried into the old dis- 
 mantled building, he lay as inert a burden as 
 ever in the arms of his seeming assassin. 
 
 Jera Le Britta was not dead, however. 
 That trance-like coma, that semblance of dis- 
 solution was but the lingering deadening 
 effect of the blighted, mephitic atmosphere of 
 the close vault. 
 
 Five minutes more confinement in that 
 sealed safe would have resulted fatally, but 
 as it was the precipitation of the murderous 
 schemer saved the photographer's life, for 
 the quick rush to the open air relieved the 
 poison-charged arteries, and the lingering 
 inertia of body and mind was simply the 
 deadening after-effects of the suffocation. 
 
 Not a muscle, however, had Le Britta 
 moved during that eventful ride, not a 
 muscle moved as he was carried into the 
 damp, gruesome cellar of the isolated build- 
 ing. 
 
 But what air, jolting and time had failed to 
 
 '.
 
 2 QO 
 
 effect, another potent element of nature con- 
 summated. 
 
 When Meredith placed his supposedly 
 dead charge upon the cold, clayey floor of 
 the cellar, he dropped him directly across a 
 pool of water. 
 
 Haunted with dread for the results of his 
 terrible deed, and frightened by phantoms 
 conjured by his craven mind in that dark cel- 
 lar-way, the miscreant allowed Le Britta to 
 slip roughly to the floor, and fled precipi- 
 tately. 
 
 With a slight splash, the photographer's 
 head dipped into a depression in the soft 
 earth, filled with water. The cooling liquid 
 laved the base of his brain, and lapped cheek 
 and brow. 
 
 There was a deep-drawn sigh, a spas- 
 modic flutter of the nerves, and then, like a 
 man chained but gradually coming back to 
 life from a dense swoon, the photographer 
 opened his eyes. 
 
 Here and there, through breaks in the wall 
 and from sashless apertures, the faint light 
 of the night permeated the place. He could 
 feel the chill, the discomfort; he could dis- 
 cern that he was in some unfamiliar spot, and
 
 29 1 
 
 yet the last hideous battle for life against the 
 invisible forces of nature in that ponderous 
 iron vault were so strongly present in his 
 mind that, with a shock and a groan, he 
 closed his eyes again, believing himself still 
 to be a prisoner in the home of the plotter, 
 Meredith. 
 
 These are the strange, uncanny hours of 
 existence, these moments when a person finds 
 himself face to face with the untried, the un- 
 known, the dim, the vague, the mysterious. 
 It is then that the senses recoil alarmed; it is 
 then that the soul, forced alone to battle with 
 what the mind cannot grasp and comprehend, 
 is revealed in its strong intensity, and man 
 knows that the essence of immortality within 
 him has a vivid existence and is a strong 
 reality. 
 
 So Le Britta, at that moment still thinking 
 that the strong iron walls of the vault en- 
 closed him, that he was yet a doomed pris- 
 oner of villainy, awakening to a last final 
 gasp of ebbing vitality, saw the world fade, 
 forgot momentarily its cares and its pleasures 
 alike, and faced the inevitable, dreamily yet 
 tangibly. 
 
 All the good, all the bad his life had known
 
 flashed across him mentally. The shudder- 
 ing fear of death was robbed of its sting. 
 What was a sharp pain, a choking moan, a 
 last throe of the overwrought nerves ? But 
 the soul! 
 
 In that moment there came to Le Britta 
 what comes to every good man when the final 
 moment dawns, be it slow or sudden, an- 
 nounced by lingering illness or speedily as a 
 lightning's flash peace; rare, calm, ineffa- 
 ble peace. 
 
 And joy ! It was hard to leave a busy, 
 bustling, happy life, with all its brisk, enticing 
 changes ; it was hard to leave loved ones, to 
 close human eyes on a human world, radiant 
 with beauty, flowers, bird-song and sunshine; 
 but the glamour of a glimpse into the portals 
 of another life a sudden, certain compre- 
 hension of the heaven that lay beyond the 
 borderland, enwrapt soul and sense in a 
 delirium of joy. 
 
 Here was the Promised Land here 
 was the pledge old as the world, and 
 sacred as only the word of divinity can be, 
 that death had no sting, and the grave was 
 robbed of victory, and life, real, final life, was 
 vouchsafed to the man who had tried to do his
 
 293 
 
 duty because he loved humanity better than 
 his own safety ! 
 
 And then, as if spoken by cherubic lips, 
 as if two souls were wandering through 
 space, one asking "Whither?" in the dim 
 confusion of recent departure from earthly 
 realms, the other questioning "Whence?" 
 and the reply coming : " I do not know. I 
 only died last night ! " there floated on the 
 air in fancy, a form, soul-born, a flash of 
 words to which the senses listened as to a 
 beautiful strain of music : 
 
 I lay with dying breath 
 
 My wan, worn hands in groping blindness beat against a wall 
 
 Echoless, perpetual, pitiless and grim, 
 
 That seemed to close the weary round of life, 
 
 And showed no token of a void or break. 
 
 And then a smothering heart, a last swift breath, 
 
 And I was dead, and something rushed apace, 
 
 And I was free ; but, lo ! through later eye*, 
 
 And newer vision, robbed of earthly bonds, 
 
 No wall was there ! 
 
 Only the summer skies, the waking hum 
 
 Of insect-haunted air in myriad life, 
 
 And budding, bubbling germs that sang and swayed, 
 
 And perfume centers freighted rich. 
 
 Yet, mingling with the soul of sound and sense. 
 
 All this, and more ! and I, a formless thing, 
 
 Floated and swayed, and rose in dreamy joy. / 
 
 Then, upward through the vapor and the blue, 
 Way up past clouds, and moon and stars ! 
 A thrill of glory, dazzling realms of gold,
 
 294 
 
 A sense of joy, half-rising, half sunk down, 
 The something vaulting pinion-poised aloft ! 
 The thinking swirling back with eyes despaired.' 
 
 And then 
 
 I could not see myself, myself was lost, 
 
 Divided, overwhelmed, confused, for I 
 
 Was here, and yet was there, was lost, was found, 
 
 And that which of the earth had gained its life 
 
 Back to the earth's warm rest sank swift, 
 
 To long and waver through a night of years, 
 
 And dissipate and resurrect in myriad forms. 
 
 But the immortal part, shorn of its bonds, 
 
 Had soared to new identity, forgetfulness and heaven. 
 
 A soul untrammeled, blest with spiritual eyes, 
 
 A soul beyond the gates, new-born, complete! 
 
 Le Britta sighed. So near to the seeming 
 portals of death, so blest by radiant pictures 
 of the future, so full of faith that those he 
 loved would be cared for by divine mercy, 
 he seemed to knock at the gates of heaven, 
 and long to be let in upon the flawless fields 
 of paradise. 
 
 " Good-by, old world ! I have tried to do 
 right." 
 
 A last murmur, a last settling back to dis- 
 solution, and then 
 
 A harsh, discordant whistle, sharp, shrill, 
 nerve-disturbing. 
 
 It pierced the solemn silence like the note 
 of a bird of prey in a garden of loveliness.
 
 295 
 
 Rudely shocked, vividly disturbed, Jera Le 
 Britta opened his eyes, and glaring into the 
 darkness and gloom, listened intently. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 A NEW TRAIL. 
 
 BACK to life in a flash, back to reality, to 
 the earth-earthy, but with an experience that 
 would impress his mind till his dying day, 
 the startled Jera Le Britta was roughly sum- 
 moned. 
 
 With clearer senses, on the alert, he could 
 readily discern now that he was not in the 
 vault at Meredith's house. 
 
 No, there was a damp cellar-way, and some 
 one was approaching, the whistle announced 
 it, the reflection of the rays of a lantern in 
 some compartment near by plainly indicated 
 it. 
 
 To a man who had given up his life as lost, 
 and had bidden farewell to the world, the re- 
 vulsion of an unexpected recall to earthly 
 existence acted as a decided shock. 
 
 Each moment the photographer's senses 
 cleared. A thought of duty at hand. Tasks 
 uncompleted flashed across his mind, ajjd he
 
 296 
 
 took up the armor anew of perseverance and 
 faith without a murmur. 
 
 Meredith! What a villain what depths 
 of evil in his cruel nature ! The stolen treas- 
 ure ! Why, as never before, the issues of 
 fate trembled in a perilous, uncertain balance. 
 
 " This is some cellar, the cellar of the house 
 where Meredith lives," cogitated Le Britta. 
 " Scarcely, for it looks disused and dis- 
 mantled. Where then ? " 
 
 That mysterious whistle was repeated, and 
 around a corner of a stone partition the rays 
 ..of the lantern again glinted across the slimy, 
 damp foundations. 
 
 There was something sinister in that whistle, 
 and a thought of Meredith caused Le Britta 
 to hesitate as the impulse came to cry out. 
 
 He was glad that he checked it, for just 
 then, as if in response to the first whistle, a 
 second one echoed, and then a gruff voice 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Ah ! you've come at last, have you ? " 
 
 " Yes, on time, ain't I ? " 
 
 There was the click of a watch-case and 
 the reply : 
 
 " Scarcely. The appointment was for mid- 
 night, and it barely lacks an hour of it."
 
 " Well, ain't that time enough ? ' 
 
 "If we hurry." 
 
 " Come on, then." 
 
 " I've got a boat." 
 
 " Then we can row to the Point." 
 
 ' Yes. Durand must have some mighty 
 mysterious scheme on hand to go through 
 all this secrecy and trouble." 
 
 " Durand ! " gasped Le Britta. 
 
 That name acted upon him like a shock. 
 He sat up abruptly ; he surprised away all 
 the lingering weakness of the moment by 
 struggling to his feet. 
 
 Durand ! Following up one branch of the 
 case, he had accidentally stumbled across 
 another, and both dovetailed. 
 
 These men had spoken Durand's name ; 
 more than that, they referred to some mys- 
 terious mission for which he had engaged 
 them a midnight task, a sinister errand 
 well in accordance with the usual evil 
 methods of procedure of the villain who 
 held the key to all the mysteries and 
 counterplots that had grown from Le Brit- 
 ta's championship of the cause of beautiful, 
 persecuted Gladys Vernon. 
 
 Arranging mentally the case as it stood,
 
 298 
 
 the photographer realized that here was a 
 new diverging path in the case to follow, 
 which might bring about great results. 
 
 The footsteps of the two men retreated, 
 and the light from the lantern disappeared. 
 
 Le Britta started cautiously after them. 
 At first, his progress was dizzy-headed and 
 uncertain, but, once in the open air, his senses 
 revived. 
 
 " They are going toward the river," re- 
 flected Le Britta. " They have a boat, and 
 they meditate about an hour's row. How 
 shall I keep trace of them ? " 
 
 He cut across a thicket. Keeping slightly 
 ahead of them, and never leaving a safe 
 shelter to reveal himself to them. 
 
 The boat to which one of the two men had 
 referred lay moored there. It was a yawl, 
 broad and long, and rather unwieldy for those 
 waters. There was a cuddy at the bow, and 
 as Le Britta saw the men nearing the spot, 
 and felt sanguine that they would make their 
 prospective voyage on that craft, he decided 
 on a rash exploit. 
 
 To accompany them unsuspected, would 
 be to trace them surely to the lair where they 
 had announced they were to meet Durand.
 
 299 
 
 The photographer acted quickly. He 
 sprang into the yawl and crowded through 
 the little door leading into the dark and low- 
 ceilinged cuddy. 
 
 It was close and damp, but he did not mind 
 those trifling discomforts, although he hoped 
 no necessity would arise for the two voyagers 
 to explore his hiding-place. 
 
 They stepped aboard, at once took up the 
 oars, and devoted all their energies to smok- 
 ing and rowing, scarcely uttering a word until 
 they neared a high bluff, about five miles 
 down the steam. 
 
 The yawl grounded on the pebbly shore, 
 the men secured it, sprang out, and one of 
 them, with a glance at his watch, remarked : 
 
 "Just in time. Midnight. Come. It's 
 only a few steps now." 
 
 Those few steps Jera Le Britta followed 
 with anxious eagerness. 
 
 They led the men to an old building that 
 resembled a residence, only that it was in a 
 state of considerable decay. 
 
 The men went around to its side door. 
 One of them tapped loudly. It was opened. 
 
 Le Britta, shrinking to the shelter of a
 
 300 
 
 bush, saw them enter, but could not make 
 out the man who had admitted them. 
 
 In a few minutes, however, a light 
 showed through the chinks in the blinds. 
 
 Approaching them, Le Britta heard the 
 sound of voices, and detected the odor of 
 cigar smoke, so he knew that the windows 
 beyond were missing or raised. 
 
 He cautiously pressed an eye to a break in 
 one of the shutters. 
 
 His soul arose in arms, defiance and 
 energy as he looked. 
 
 For he had found the missing marplot of 
 the drama begun at Hawthorne villa, and 
 transferred to this lonely house by the river- 
 side. 
 
 Destiny had led him, strangely but surely, 
 on the trail of the man he most wished to see 
 of all men in the world. 
 
 Ralph Durand was before him !
 
 301 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 PLOTTERS IN COUNCIL. 
 
 AT a glance, Jera Le Britta discerned that 
 the three men had met for an important con- 
 sultation, and he prepared to listen to some 
 enlightening revelations. 
 
 They seemed to be the only occupants of 
 the building, and Le Britta was apparently 
 safe from discovery, for a time at least. 
 
 "What's the row, governor?" asked one 
 of Durand's two visitors, " that we have to 
 come here at this unusual hour." 
 
 "Work's the row," replied Durand, sharp- 
 ly "work well paid for, so you needn't 
 grumble." 
 
 " We don't, on that score, but" 
 
 " I generally act for the best," pursued the 
 plotter. " You have had a remarkably easy 
 time during the past week." 
 
 "Yes, watching the house where the girl 
 is with the old woman so she don't by any 
 mischance escape is no great labor," laughed 
 one of the men. 
 
 " And she is safe ?" 
 
 " She's there watched closely, and, be-
 
 302 
 
 tween you and I, governor, too crushed and 
 despondent to think of running away." 
 
 " Good !" commented Durand, "that suits 
 me. I fancy she realizes that to disobey me 
 would involve her lover in serious trouble. 
 Now, then, boys, you understand enough of 
 this affair to realize that this same lover of 
 hers, young Vance, is no friend of mine." 
 
 " We can surmise it, governor." 
 
 " It is in my power to send him to the gal- 
 lows. On the other hand, once free, he 
 might accuse me in turn of the murder of 
 old Gideon Vernon. He is a disturbing ele- 
 ment in my calculations, and the only one. 
 T have laid my plans for the future, and I 
 don't want them disturbed, so " 
 
 " You want to get rid of the young man in 
 question," slyly insinuated one of Durand's 
 companions. 
 
 " I must. While he is living and a prisoner, 
 he is a menace to the girl. By threatening 
 him, I keep her in my power. All this, how- 
 ever, may lead to troublesome complications 
 further on, so I have resolved on one grand, 
 final move." 
 
 " What is it, governor? " 
 
 " Money was my primal object in fighting
 
 303 
 
 for my position as guardian to Gladys Ver- 
 non. To my disappointment, when I became 
 legally appointed executor of the Vernon 
 estates, I found them heavily mortgaged, and 
 the proceeds had vanished. I imagine, I 
 suspect that the girl or some of her friends 
 know where this mortgage money is, and are 
 keeping it in hiding until she becomes of age. 
 However, even abandoning the hope of ever 
 handling that ready cash, I find I can realize 
 as much more by a bold move." 
 
 " How's that ? " 
 
 " Sell the property at a sacrifice." 
 
 "Can you do it?" 
 
 "With the girl's consent." 
 
 "Not without it?" 
 
 " Scarcely. So I have resolved to marry 
 her, and end the complication summarily." 
 
 To marry Gladys Vernon ! The listening 
 photographer thrilled at the revelation, more 
 than that, he shuddered at the thought of 
 that pure, beautiful girl wedded to a coarse, 
 brutal villain, who, by thus wrecking her fair, 
 young life, would silence her lips against 
 him, would enforce the sacrifice under threat 
 of doom and death for her lover, Sydney 
 Vance.
 
 304 
 
 "The day that occurs," went on the bold 
 plotter, "I pay you each five hundered dol- 
 lars." 
 
 " And how can we help you ? " asked both 
 the men in an eager breath. 
 
 "The young man Vance" 
 
 "He is here?" 
 
 " Near here. I have held him a close 
 prisoner. The day of the murder he pursued 
 me. We met, I overpowered him. Since 
 then, in one place or another, he has been 
 my captive. I want him removed. I dare 
 not leave him alone, for fear of escape. I 
 dare not trust him in this district longer, for 
 fear of discovery. To-night you are to re- 
 move him." 
 
 "Whereto?" 
 
 "Somewhere among the mining towns. 
 Surely, you have cronies, friends who know 
 of lonely caves, isolated huts, this or that 
 out-of-the-way spot where he will be safe ? " 
 
 " I reckon we can find such a place." 
 
 " I trust you to do it. You are to take 
 charge of him, but watch him closely/' 
 
 "Never fear!" 
 
 " If he escapes, you lose the reward I 
 have promised you. I leave him in your
 
 305 
 
 keeping. Then I shall propose marriage to 
 the girl." 
 
 "Will she consent?" 
 
 " Dare she refuse ? " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I tell you, the menace I hold against 
 Vance terrorizes her completely. I may have 
 to promise Vance his liberty I may have 
 to ask you to cause him to disappear mys- 
 teriously." 
 
 The villain paused and glanced signifi- 
 cantly at the two men. Both, murderous 
 wretches that they were, sordid, conscience- 
 less, the yellow glow of gold obliterated the 
 lurid stain of blood for them, were the 
 recompense only large and speedy. 
 
 " Once I wed Gladys Vernon," continued 
 Durand, "I am sure of a fortune. Then, a 
 new scene of life, a foreign or a distant land, 
 and let her friends and my foes discover what 
 they will ! come." 
 
 " Where ? " queried one of the men, and 
 all three of the conspirators arose to their 
 feet. 
 
 Durand did not reply, but led the way 
 from the room. 
 
 The interested and excited watcher at the
 
 306 
 
 window drew into the shadow of some 
 shrubbery. 
 
 The trio came out into the garden, 
 Durand in the lead ; they traversed its 
 length, and disappeared in a stable. 
 
 Le Britta got around to the building, and 
 watched, keenly. 
 
 In a few minutes a horse, attached to a 
 covered wagon, was driven out. 
 
 This vehicle was formed of boards that 
 inclosed all the back of the driver's seat 
 completely, and was only accessible by two 
 doors which opened at the rear. 
 
 These were now open, but Le Britta, peer- 
 ing past the corner of the stable, could see 
 that they were provided with a heavy iron 
 staple, padlock and chain, for locking them 
 securely. 
 
 Further than that, he could make out the 
 outlines of some human being lying on the 
 bottom of the wagon. 
 
 One of the men approached the wagon 
 and seized the doors, to close and lock them. 
 
 Just at that moment, however, Durand 
 spoke : 
 
 " Here, Tom, Bill ! I've got a bottle in
 
 307 
 
 the stable. Perhaps you'd like a sup before 
 you start." 
 
 The man at the wagon doors abandoned 
 his task at once, and he and his companion 
 disappeared with Durand into the stable. 
 
 ' They have a man in that wagon 
 Vance ! " ejaculated Le Britta, excitedly. 
 
 What should he do ? Scarcely give battle 
 to three armed foes, and he was hardly fit 
 for a run of miles after that spirited steed. 
 
 He glanced at the stable. At its rear end, 
 he could see the three conspirators by the 
 light of a lantern drinking from a bottle. 
 
 They were not looking toward the wagon, 
 and his opportunity seemed now or never. 
 
 Springing forward, the venturesome Le 
 Britta decided on a daring exploit to ascertain 
 the identity of the prisoner in the vehicle, 
 and rescue him if possible. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 ESCAPE. 
 
 LE BRITTA reached the wagon in a single 
 bound 
 
 Whatever was to be done must be executed 
 quickly, he realized that fully.
 
 308 
 
 Peering into the close wagon-box, he could 
 make out plainly a human form lying pros- 
 trate upon aheap of old grain bags. 
 
 He ventured the utterance of a name a 
 surmise as to the identity of the occupant of 
 that dark wagon-box. 
 
 "Vance Sydney Vance!" he gasped, 
 softly, but with startling distinctness. 
 
 There was a rustle, a muffled ejaculation. 
 
 "Eh! who is it?" 
 
 " A friend. You are Sidney Vance ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I thought so, listen ! we have not a 
 moment to spare. I am Gladys Vernon's 
 friend. I came to rescue you." 
 
 "But those men?" 
 
 " Are momentarily out of sight. I will 
 drag you out." 
 
 Le Britta seized the man's feet. He calcu- 
 lated on dragging him to the ground, and 
 then, tied as he was, bodily carry him to 
 some near retreat. 
 
 "No! no!" dissented the captive, pant- 
 ingly. " I am bound." 
 
 " I know that." 
 
 "Hand and foot." 
 
 " Still "
 
 309 
 
 " You are tugging in vain. You cannot 
 drag me out." 
 
 It did, indeed, seem as if the task was 
 impossible as if some obstacle offered a 
 sturdy resistance to all Le Britta's efforts. 
 
 "What is the matter ? " queried the photog- 
 rapher, with an apprehensive glance toward 
 the stable. 
 
 " I am also secured to a ring in the side of 
 the wagon." 
 
 Le Britta uttered a concerned cry, but he 
 was not yet daunted. 
 
 He clambered through the back of the 
 vehicle, and groped in his pockets for a 
 knife to sever the ropes securing the captive. 
 
 "Too late ! " gasped the latter, suddenly. 
 
 " Eh ! what now ?" 
 
 "Those men ! " 
 
 Le Britta uttered a dismayed ejaculation. 
 
 At just that moment Durand and his two 
 accomplices came out from the stable. 
 
 There was no time to spring to the ground 
 and run for cover. He doubted even if his 
 retreat was a safe one, as he shrunk back in 
 the darkest corner of the wagon-box. 
 
 " You understand, Tom," spoke Durand.
 
 "Perfectly," replied the man addressed, 
 wiping his lips. 
 
 His companion advanced to the rear of the 
 vehicle and closed the doors with a crash, 
 enveloping the startled Le Britta in complete 
 darkness. 
 
 "No danger of his getting away now!" 
 laughed the man. 
 
 " Scarcely," spoke Durand. " You have 
 your instructions. Don't lose sight of the 
 prisoner, and obey orders." 
 
 The two men jumped into the seat. Sep- 
 arated from them by only the thin board par- 
 tition, Jera Le Britta tried to realize the 
 strange situation into which his rashness had 
 preciptated him. 
 
 His position was one of undoubted peril. 
 He was weak, unarmed, practically at the 
 mercy of two desperate foes, shut in to a 
 prison-place from which escape would be 
 difficult. 
 
 The vehicle started up. Le Britta sank to 
 the bottom of the wagon. He groped about 
 until he established the position in which his 
 companion in captivity lay. Then placing 
 his lips close to his ears, he began a hurried, 
 undertoned conversation.
 
 " Who are you ? " queried the prisoner, in 
 a wondering tone. 
 
 Le Britta explained sufficient to force the 
 conviction that he was a friend. 
 
 He had found his pocket-knife now, and 
 he set straightway about relieving Vance of 
 his bonds. 
 
 A few deft strokes severed the ropes se- 
 curing hands and feet. He untied the strong 
 cords running to an iron ring sunk in the 
 side of the wagon. 
 
 " You are free," whispered the photog- 
 rapher. "Now, for liberty ! " 
 
 "But how?" 
 
 "Wait!" 
 
 The jolting of the wagon and the grinding 
 of the wheels masked Le Britta's movements 
 about the interior of the vehicle. He felt at 
 the sides of the partition, behind the driver's 
 seat, at the bottom, top, and at the locked 
 doors at the rear. 
 
 " We are tightly shut in," he announced, 
 coming back to Vance. 
 
 "Then let us wait until they reach their 
 destination." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "They will unlock the doors. We will
 
 312 
 
 spring out suddenly upon them, overcome 
 them." 
 
 " You forget they are armed." 
 
 " But we shall take them at a disadvan- 
 tage," persisted Vance. 
 
 "And they may also halt amid friends as 
 desperate and murderous as themselves." 
 
 "I never thought of that." 
 
 "No," spoke Le Britta, thoughtfully, "our 
 only hope of escaping their clutches safely, is 
 to find some way of leaving the vehicle un- 
 perceived by them before they reach their 
 destination." 
 
 "But, how?" 
 
 That was, indeed, a serious question, and 
 Le Britta reflected deeply. 
 
 Their combined efforts, vigorously per- 
 sisted in, might eventually enable them to 
 burst open the rear doors, but the noise 
 would disturb and warn their jailers, would 
 lead to an investigation, and certainly end in 
 recapture. 
 
 " Let us make a united rush for the doors," 
 murmured Vance. 
 
 "They are strongly locked." 
 
 " But we may burst them open at a single 
 contact."
 
 3*3 
 
 "And warn those men, even if we succeed." 
 
 "Then it is fight or flight," returned 
 Vance, grimly. " Come. Ready." 
 
 "Stop!" 
 
 The desperate venture about to culminate, 
 the voice of Le Britta sounded a peremptory 
 halt. 
 
 "What is it?" queried his companion, im- 
 patiently. 
 
 "I have discovered something." 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " A new possible means of escape. Give 
 me time, Yes. I am positive." 
 
 Le Britta was feeling along the roof of the 
 wagon -box. 
 
 His hand reached up ; he had discovered a 
 slight break in the sealed top. 
 
 One board, about a foot wide, had given 
 slightly under his touch, and as he pressed 
 it, he found that it was loose from the rear 
 end clear to the center of the wagon. 
 
 It swayed upward about six inches, then 
 some new resistance prevented further 
 progress. 
 
 " I see what the matter is," he murmured. 
 
 " What ? " queried the eager Vance.
 
 3H 
 
 " The top has a covering of water-proof. 
 Wait. I can slit it." 
 
 By extending his knife past the loose 
 board, the photographer was enabled to cut 
 the outside covering. 
 
 Pushing now on the board, it gave nearly 
 a foot, and through the opening the stars 
 were plainly visible. 
 
 The center nail, however, held it firmly, so 
 that it would spring back into place once the 
 pressure of his hand was removed. 
 
 " If I hold it, can you creep through ? " he 
 queried of his companion. 
 
 " Yes, readily ; but you ? " 
 
 " I will try to follow." 
 
 "Good. I am ready." 
 
 Le Britta gave some quick whispered 
 directions to his companion. 
 
 He then pushed the board up as far as he 
 could, and Vance, grasping the boards at 
 the 'side, began to scramble through the 
 aperture. 
 
 It was a tight squeeze and fraught with 
 considerable peril. 
 
 Too much pressure on the board might 
 pull the center nail loose, and although the 
 hood over the driver's seat concealed them
 
 from the two men, once the board broke loose, 
 the shock and crash would alarm them. 
 
 The board shot back with the force of a 
 lever on Le Britta's fingers, as he saw Vance 
 reach the top, scramble over it, and drop to 
 the road from the rear of the vehicle. 
 
 He was elated at the success of his experi- 
 ment. He theorized that Vance would fol- 
 low after the wagon until he had effected his 
 own escape, when he would rejoin him. 
 
 Resting a moment or two, Le Britta started 
 to escape as his companion had done. 
 
 A sigh of dismay escaped his lips, as he 
 lifted himself to the aperture. 
 
 For just then he made a distressing dis- 
 covery. 
 
 It was easy to get out with some one to 
 hold the board up for the escaping person, 
 but unaided, Le Britta vainly strove to force 
 head and shoulders through the opening. 
 
 The board, taut as a steel trap, would not 
 give sufficiently. 
 
 With a concerned face, the photographer 
 dropped back to the bottom of the wagon- 
 box. 
 
 He was fairly in a trap of his own making 
 -he had sacrificed his own safety for that of
 
 Vance, and his escape now depended solely 
 on outside assistance. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 IN PERIL. 
 
 THE wagon had commenced to go slower, 
 and the anxious Le Britta could estimate 
 that they had proceeded at least five miles, 
 and were probably nearing their destination. 
 
 He saw at a glance his mistake in directing 
 Vance to make haste in leaving the wagon- 
 top once free of the aperture, for had he re- 
 mained only a moment to hold up the loose 
 plank while Le Britta crawled through, both 
 would now be speeding away to liberty. 
 
 Where was Vance ? Surely, he would not 
 leave his rescuer in peril, coward-like, abandon 
 him to his fate ! 
 
 No ; a slight jangle at the rear doors told 
 that some one was fumbling with the lock. 
 Then the doors creaked and strained, but 
 they remained intact, and Le Britta knew 
 that his friend must be following the wagon 
 under the cover of the darkness and gloom 
 of the night.
 
 No further evidence of the proximity of 
 his late companion in captivity was forthcom- 
 ing for nearly half an hour. 
 
 Then, in a manner most original and start- 
 ling, Sidney Vance announced his fealty to 
 his rescuer and his desperate resolve to 
 reach and aid him, even at the cost of dis- 
 covery, and an unequal conflict with the two 
 knaves on the wagon-seat, who, all unconscious 
 of what had so far occurred, smoked placidly 
 and indulged in occasional conversation. 
 
 Of a sudden, something landed against 
 the two locked doors of the vehicle with a 
 force that split one of the panels clear in 
 twain. 
 
 Pieces of rock and splintered wood were 
 showered about the astonished Lc Britta as 
 that crash resounded, and the hor^ started 
 up affrighted. 
 
 Instantly, too, Le Britta saw out into the 
 road through the broken door, and discerned 
 also that the rent thus made in the thin wood 
 could be enlarged to an aperture of escape 
 very speedily, were time only afforded. 
 
 "Whoa!" 
 
 The imperious command rang out, the 
 lines were jerked, the horse shrank t( *U
 
 haunches, and there was a hurried commo- 
 tion on the front seat. 
 
 "What was that?" 
 
 "A crash!" 
 
 " It struck the wagon ? " 
 
 "Jump down and see." 
 
 Abandoning the seat, both men sprang to 
 the roadway, and ran around to the rear of 
 the vehicle. 
 
 " Tom, look here." 
 
 "Mercy ! what does this mean ? " 
 
 Ralph Durand's fellow-plotters viewed the 
 rent in the wagon-door agape. 
 
 " He's tried to break out ! " cried one. 
 
 " No, don't you see ? The damage has 
 been done from the outside." 
 
 "But how?" 
 
 "A rock. See! the jagged ends of this 
 board?" 
 
 " Maybe he's escaped ? " 
 
 " What ! tied hand and foot ? " 
 
 "But"- 
 
 " I'll look and see." 
 
 One of the men drew forth a match and 
 ignited it. 
 
 Extending it through the rent, he peered 
 into the darksome void beyond.
 
 319 
 
 " Great goodness ! it's" 
 
 The sentence was not concluded, for as, 
 wonder-eyed, incredulous, the startled eyes 
 of the plotter took in the outlines of the form 
 in the wagon, that form sprang forward. 
 
 Puff! a quick breath blew out the match. 
 
 Recoiling, the man seemed too overcome 
 to speak. 
 
 "Tom! " he gasped. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " He ain't there ! " 
 
 "What!" 
 
 "No he's gone." 
 
 "Gone? why I hear him moving about." 
 
 " Yes, but it ain't our man ! " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " 
 
 " It's another, and he ain't bound." 
 
 " Ridiculous ! " 
 
 " Look and see ! " 
 
 The other flared a second match. A sud- 
 de/i cry announced his surprise, but he was 
 quicker to act than the other. 
 
 "Treachery ! trickery ! " he cried. 
 
 "It ain't our man ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " It's another "
 
 320 
 
 " Back ! " yelled the man. " He may be 
 armed." 
 
 He, himself, drew a revolver. Excited, 
 dubious, he extended it toward the wagon. 
 
 At that moment, from some bushes lining 
 the road, though unperceived by the two 
 startled men, a human hand was raised. 
 
 A rock struck the hand of the man clutch- 
 ing the weapon. 
 
 It fell from his nerveless grasp, but, as it 
 did so, one chamber exploded with a start- 
 ling report. 
 
 The horse, affrighted, sprang forward. 
 
 The sudden jerk sent the anxious Le Britta 
 flat on his back. Ere he could again struggle 
 to his feet, he realized that he was the victim 
 of a runaway. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 A STRANGE COMPLICATION. 
 
 "WnoA ! whoa! " yelled the two men, in 
 unison, but their cries and their springs after 
 the flying horse and vehicle were fruitless to 
 stay a terrified runaway. 
 
 It seemed to Le Britta that the wagon was
 
 321 
 
 going at the rate of a fast express train. He 
 was knocked from side to side of the vehicle, 
 which tipped, jolted and jarred as if threaten- 
 ing every moment to come to a halt, a 
 wreck. 
 
 He made one frantic effort to reach the 
 hole in the door made by the rock, enlarge it, 
 spring through it. 
 
 With the wagon dashing along at break- 
 neck pace, however, he could enforce no 
 systematic plan of operations, and he saw at 
 a glance out upon the starlit road, that a fall 
 there would be perilous in the extreme. 
 
 Even in the uncertain light of the night he 
 could make out the winding road. A curve 
 had shut out friend and foes alike. No 
 houses or lights were visible, and the road 
 seemed to be inclining steeply. 
 
 With added momentum, steed and vehicle 
 now dashed forward. A thundering noise 
 caused Le Britta to look out. 
 
 The wild runaway had reached a planked 
 bridge. Half-way across it there came a 
 shock that jarred every nerve of Le Britta's 
 system. 
 
 There was a crash, a stumble, a loud neigh 
 of terror, and then the horse dashed away
 
 322 
 
 again, fleet as the wind, but no longer en- 
 cumbered with the wagon. 
 
 That, with its human captive, had, it seemed, 
 struck a post in the railing of the bridge. It 
 crashed, it toppled. There was a tearing 
 sound, and over and over it went, ripping the 
 bridge guard from place and carrying it with 
 it in a mad dive for the surface of the turbu- 
 lent stream fully twenty feet below. 
 
 Splash ! 
 
 A confused sense of peril flashed upon 
 Le Britta's senses. 
 
 Then, as he lay a huddled heap in one cor- 
 ner of the box, two discoveries thrilled his 
 soul vaguely the current of the river was 
 carrying the dismantled vehicle down stream, 
 and the box was filling with water ! 
 
 It seemed to eddy, whirl and totter, and 
 gain additional velocity each moment. It 
 careened, upset, a choking flood of waters 
 rose breast-high, and then a second crash 
 half-stunned the imperiled captive. 
 
 That crash announced liberty, however, if 
 nothing else, for striking some rock in mid- 
 stream, the battered wagon-box split clear in 
 twain. 
 
 Exhausted, weak and half-blinded, Le
 
 323 
 
 Britta managed to swim to the shore. There 
 upon the shingly beach he lay, one hour or 
 ten, he knew not which, for insensibility in- 
 stantly supervened. 
 
 The first gray tints of dawn were streaking 
 the eastern horizon as he again staggered to 
 his feet. 
 
 His senses swam still, and his brain seemed 
 benumbed. Without coherency or motive, 
 he wandered from the spot. 
 
 Broad daylight found him nearing a collec- 
 tion of huts marking some poor industrial 
 center. Into one that was deserted he stag- 
 gered. 
 
 It seemed complete luxury to rest again. 
 It seemed as if the tired senses demanded 
 inertia, forgetfulness. 
 
 For one hour he tossed in nervous, rest- 
 less dozing, then profound slumber ensued, 
 and then, gradually, he seemed to awake, 
 refreshed, rejuvenated, to the old practical 
 life again. 
 
 Where was he ? that was easy to figure 
 out. And Vance and his two captors ? What 
 had become of them ? 
 
 Le Britta walked to the door of the hut, 
 Eventide ! For twelve hours he had slum-
 
 324 
 
 bered, while the scoundrelly Durand was con- 
 summating his evil projects, he had lain inert ! 
 but there was one satisfaction his victim, 
 Vance, was probably at liberty. 
 
 Le Britta saw the lights of a little town 
 about half-a-mile distant, and proceeded 
 thither. His clothes had become torn, be- 
 spattered with mire, soaked in the wagon and 
 the river, and at a small clothing establish- 
 ment he purchased a new outfit. 
 
 Was he near to the center of operations 
 of the plotters ? Certainly somewhere near 
 here the fair Gladys was a prisoner, and the 
 plotting Durand made his headquarters. 
 
 A meal and rest put the photographer in 
 shape for action, and apparently action was 
 needed in behalf of those he would befriend 
 now if ever. 
 
 He made some inquiries at the restaurant, 
 but its proprietor, a stolid German, announced 
 himself as a recent arrival, and not at all 
 familiar with the surroundings of the village 
 or it people. 
 
 The minister knew everything, he stated, 
 and the minister's home was down the street, 
 "that way," and he indicated a neat cottage 
 a square or two distant.
 
 3*5 
 
 Le Britta proceeded thither. It would do 
 no harm to make a few inquiries, but when 
 he rang at the door bell of the house there 
 was no reply to his summons, and he decided 
 that the entire family must be away. 
 
 In a thoughtful mood, he sat down on the 
 porch steps of the cottage. 
 
 What to do next ? was the question, and a 
 most difficult one to answer. 
 
 He had failed signally in attempting to 
 rescue the stolen Vernon fortune from Darius 
 Meredith. To return to that individual and 
 charge him with attempted murder would be 
 to meet open denial and defiance. No, he 
 had played a bold game, and had lost, and 
 the wily Meredith would not be taken un- 
 awares again, he felt assured. 
 
 He had liberated Vance that was one 
 definite and important step accomplished. 
 If he could only find him again ! if he could 
 only locate Gladys Vernon, and rescue her. 
 If he could only reunite these two, and say : 
 "Let the fortune go seek happiness in 
 some other country." 
 
 The gate clicked, and Le Britta looked up 
 quickly. Was it the minister returned ? 
 
 No, for the new-comer had arrived driving
 
 326 
 
 a close carriage, and as he walked up the 
 graveled path his attire and manner evinced 
 nothing professional or refined. 
 
 "Are you Mr. Dane the clergyman?" 
 queried the new-comer, quite eagerly. 
 
 " No," sprang to Jera Le Britta's lips, but 
 the word was checked instantly. 
 
 For, with a start, he recognized the 
 stranger as one of the very men who had 
 carried him into captivity in the close wagon 
 the night previous. 
 
 Some quick intuition of thought caused Le 
 Britta to parley with the man. 
 
 "What did you want?" he asked, simply. 
 
 "A marriage, sir," replied the man. " I 
 wish you to officiate at a marriage ceremony 
 at once." 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 AT THE OLD HOUSE. 
 
 JERA LE BRITTA tried hard to preserve a 
 composed demeanor, as the last words of the 
 driver of the carriage at the gate revealed to 
 him in a flash the golden opportunity of a 
 lifetime. 
 
 It did not require much thinking to surmise
 
 327 
 
 the true condition of affairs. The man 
 before him was one of Ralph Durand's fellow- 
 plotters, and he had been sent hither for the 
 village clergyman. 
 
 Why ? why, but to enable Durand to carry 
 out his previously-announced plans ? Doubt- 
 lessly, the two men had hastened to Durand 
 after the runaway accident, and had reported 
 the escape of Sydney Vance. Thoroughly 
 frightened, the villain had been obliged to act 
 quickly. He proposed to hasten the marriage 
 ceremony. He had sent this man to secure 
 a licensed clergyman to officiate. 
 
 He did not know Le Britta, for that mo- 
 mentary glance through the broken door of 
 the prison-wagon had been too fleeting to fix 
 his features on his mind. More than that, 
 he did not know the clergyman by sight. 
 
 " He takes me for the minister," murmured 
 Le Britta, excitedly. 
 
 A wild suggestion entered the photogra- 
 pher's mind. Recent perils, a late acquaint- 
 ance with exciting and unfamiliar progress 
 of a decidedly sensational nature, had made 
 him more reckless than usual. 
 
 Dare he assume the place of the clergy-
 
 3*8 
 
 man dare he accompany the man in the 
 carriage ? 
 
 What would be the result ; whither would 
 it lead him ? Productive of benefit or trouble, 
 the intrepid Le Britta was resolved to locate 
 the imprisoned Gladys Vernon, was deter- 
 mined to save her from wedding the scoun- 
 drel Durand if possible. 
 
 "Ah ! a marriage ceremony," spoke Le 
 Britta, with quiet dignity. "Where are the 
 parties to the contract?" 
 
 "It's it's quite a distance, sir?" spoke 
 the man with marked agitation. "It's it's 
 a peculiar case." 
 
 " It must be, to include such haste. May 
 I ask who sent you ? " 
 
 "My my friend, sir; a Mr. Durand. 
 Quite wealthy gentleman." 
 
 " And the bride ? " 
 
 "A young lady. Both are awaiting you. 
 I was instructed to say to you that your fee 
 will be large and promptly paid. In advance, 
 if you like. Please don't disappoint me, sir ! 
 You are the only clergyman in the district 
 we can reach." 
 
 " Very well, I will go," announced Le Britta. 
 
 The driver seemed delighted. He hurried
 
 329 
 
 him to the carriage, bestowed him safely 
 within, and, springing to the seat, urged up 
 the horses. 
 
 Jera Le Britta reflected seriously. It was 
 easy to accept a situation, but far more diffi- 
 cult to face it when its issues became compli- 
 cated. He saw his mistake as he cogitated 
 over the possible results of his strange jour- 
 ney. When they arrived at their destination 
 he would find himself in the midst of Durand 
 and his friends, and probably at some isolated ' 
 spot. He should have learned more from the 
 driver have secured police assistance a 
 score of theories presented themselves to his 
 mind, now that it was too late to act. 
 
 The carriage proceeded swiftly. It must 
 have traversed fully ten miles by lonely and 
 unfrequented roads ere a halt was made. 
 Le Britta was astonished as he looked from 
 the carriage, for the spot was the self-same 
 one by the riverside whither the boat had 
 taken him the evening previous the lonely 
 house where he had sprung into the prison- 
 wagon to rescue Sydney Vance. 
 
 Twice Le Britta was on the point of spring- 
 ing from the vehicle and escaping, for he 
 foresaw nothing but trouble when he was
 
 330 
 
 confronted by Durind and recognized by him, 
 as he would certainly be. The thought that 
 in every dilemma of the past, however, aid 
 had come at an unexpected time, a realization 
 of the fact that within an hour the destiny of 
 innocent Gladys Vernon would be made or 
 marred, nerved the photographer to proceed 
 with the exploit in hand, at least until he had 
 penetrated the lair of the enemy, and had 
 learned how thr. land lay. 
 
 " This way, sir," spoke the driver, as the 
 carriage halted, 
 
 It was directly at the side of the old house 
 and near a vine-covered porch, and as he 
 sprang from the driver's seat and opened the 
 carriage door, he started up the steps. 
 
 " Rather dark and mysterious this, I fancy," 
 murmured Le Britta. 
 
 " Eh ? Oh ! that's all right, sir. There's 
 only a few minutes' talk, a big fee, sir, and 
 I'll drive you home again." 
 
 " But why all this haste ? " persevered Le 
 Britta. 
 
 "Mr. Durand will explain all that satisfac- 
 torily to you. This way; just sit down for a 
 minute or two, and excuse the darkness. I'll 
 $ lamp and Mr. Durand."
 
 331 
 
 He pushed a common wooden chair toward 
 Le Britta as he spoke. The latter could not 
 see it, he could only feel it, and, groping 
 about, he sat down and waited in painful 
 reflection. 
 
 The door stood open, the horses and car- 
 riage were without, escape lay at hand. It 
 was not too late yet to retreat. 
 
 He listened. Only the departing footsteps 
 of the driver down some uncarpeted corridor 
 echoed vaguely on his hearing. 
 
 Was Gladys Vernon in the building? 
 Were Durand and the driver the only 
 other occupants? 
 
 " If I only had a weapon," murmured Le 
 Britta, " I would boldly face these scoundrels, 
 
 A *_!' 
 
 As it is 
 
 He took a step toward the door. Retreat 
 seemed prudent. Better to watch the house 
 in hiding, than risk exposure and defeat by 
 boldly facing overpowering numbers. 
 
 Just then, however, from the direction the 
 driver had taken, sounded footsteps, then a 
 light glowed, and then a quick voice spoke 
 sharply - 
 
 " Who's that ? "
 
 332 
 
 "Durand's voice!" murmured Le Britta, 
 excitedly. 
 
 "Tom." 
 
 " Ah ! you have returned ? Glad of il. 
 Bill only just came back. I was afraid you 
 might miss finding a minister, so I posted 
 him off, too." 
 
 " Well, I've got your man." 
 
 "Whatman?" ' 
 
 " Mr. Dane, the minister at Acton." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 Durand's tones expressed the profoundest 
 surprise. 
 
 " I say I've got the minister." 
 
 "Mr. Dane of Acton?" 
 
 " Yes, just brought him. He's in that 
 room waiting to see you." 
 
 "Nonsense ! " 
 
 "Why." 
 
 " Nonsense, I say ! " reiterated Durand, 
 forcibly. " Bill himself has just brought Mr. 
 Dane of Acton, and he's with the bride 
 now!"
 
 333 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 LIBERTY ! 
 
 LE BRITTA started violently. The revela- 
 tion contained in the unexpected announce- 
 ment of Durand fairly electrified him. 
 
 The assumption he had undertaken was 
 about to lead him into complications and 
 difficulties, likely to arouse suspicion and 
 enmity at once, even if he was not recognized 
 by the plotter. 
 
 He heard Durand's assistant whistle incred- 
 ulously. 
 
 "The minister, Mr. Dane, with the bride ?" 
 he repeated, blankly. 
 
 "Yes," returned Durand. 
 
 "And I just brought him" 
 
 " You did not." 
 
 "From his very home" 
 
 "I say, you didn't!" retorted Durand, 
 irritably. 
 
 " Will you come and see ? " 
 
 " Well, I will ; but, as I know Dane, I am 
 not likely to be mistaken." 
 
 "Then my man " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " He must be an impostor."
 
 334 
 
 " Or worse." 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 "A spy. Hist! We'll take him off his 
 guard." 
 
 Le Britta bristled with excitement. He 
 glided across the room. His intention was 
 to make for the outside door. 
 
 At just that moment, however, a gust of 
 wind drove the door to with a slam. Le 
 Britta sprang to the knob and seized it. A 
 spring lock, it held firm, and he had no time 
 to seek out its mechanism. 
 
 He dashed across the room, as in the 
 approaching light of the lamp in the hands 
 of one of the intruders, he made out a door- 
 way dimly. The door yielded to his touch. 
 He crossed its threshold, to find himself in a 
 dark, narrow corridor, penetrated its length, 
 passed up a stairway, and halted, thrilled and 
 uncertain, at the sound of a familiar voice 
 that recalled the past vividly. 
 
 " Gladys Vernon ! " he murmured, ex- 
 citedly. 
 
 Yes, the heiress of Hawthorne villa was 
 certainly iri the room beyond, and she was 
 speaking. 
 
 In a low, tremulous, pleading tone of voice,
 
 335 
 
 her accents fell distinctly upon Jera Le 
 Britta's strained hearing. 
 
 He could not catch her words, but he 
 knew that the poor girl, faced with the dread 
 alternative of wedding a scoundrel or send- 
 ing her lover to the gallows, was pouring her 
 sorrows into the ears of the clergyman. 
 
 " My poor child ! " he heard the latter 
 speak; "this is really an unexpected dis- 
 closure. I was led to suppose that you were 
 a willing party to the ceremony. I declare ! 
 I hardly know how to act in the matter. 
 You say you will marry him, and yet you 
 shrink from him. I will see Mr. Durand. I 
 will talk with him." 
 
 Le Britta had just time to secrete himself 
 in a shadowed niche in the corridor, as the 
 door of the room, on which his attention and 
 interest were centered, opened, and a flare 
 of light illumined its threshold. 
 
 He heard the minister grope his way down 
 the corridor and descend the stairs. He had 
 gone in quest of Durand. 
 
 In a flash Jera Le Britta had opened the 
 door just closed. Into the room he sprang. 
 
 " Gladvs Miss Vernon ! " 
 
 J 
 
 In pity and concern he regarded the pale-
 
 336 
 
 faced girl before him, who, with startled 
 alarm, stood regarding him. 
 
 " You do not know me ? " he began. 
 
 "No yes oh, Mr. Le Britta ! " 
 
 Sobbing amid her despair, tottering to his 
 support as to that of a true friend, Gladys' 
 eyes, so full of anguish, showed a token of 
 recognition. 
 
 Le Britta's nerves were at a high tension. 
 He realized that the most vital moment in 
 the affairs of the persecuted heiress and her 
 friends had arrived ; that there was no time 
 to lose in explanations. Delay meant peril 
 deep, certain, disastrous. 
 
 " Miss Vernon," he spoke, hurriedly and 
 seriously, " I understand all. Do not speak 
 or delay. Follow me." 
 
 "Oh! Mr. Le Britta "- 
 
 " Yonder door ! It leads " 
 
 " To the garden." 
 
 " Then, hasten ! " 
 
 " It is locked." 
 
 "The window, then ! " 
 
 Le Britta hurried to the window in ques- 
 tion. He raised it and glanced out. A few 
 feet below was the garden. 
 
 Gladys had not followed him. She still
 
 337 
 
 stood in the center of the room, swaying, 
 wondering, in doubt. 
 
 "Come ! " he spoke, peremptorily, almost 
 sharply. 
 
 " You wish me to leave here ?" 
 
 " Yes. We must fly without a moment's 
 delay." 
 
 Gladys uttered a faint wail of distress and 
 despair. 
 
 " Mr. Le Britta, I dare not ! " she moaned. 
 
 " Dare not seek liberty ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " After captivity, suffering. To remain 
 here means sacrifice, doom." 
 
 " I cannot help it," murmured Gladys, 
 brokenly. " Oh ! you do not know ! " 
 
 " Yes, I do know ! " interrupted Le Britta, 
 vehemently. "I comprehend, now. That 
 scoundrel, Durand you fear his power ! " 
 
 " He threatens." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " My lover, Sydney Vance. He is a pris- 
 oner in his power." 
 
 "No!" . 
 
 "He told me" 
 
 " Falsehoods ! Sydney Vance is free." 
 
 "Free?"
 
 33* 
 
 "Yes, Gladys, I beseech of you, do not 
 delay. Hark ! They are coming this way. 
 You must, you shall escape ! " 
 
 Almost forcibly Le Britta drew the dis- 
 tracted girl toward the open window. 
 
 He lifted her through. The very moment 
 they reached the ground, a wild ejaculation 
 of alarm echoed through the apartment they 
 had just vacated. 
 
 " Gone the girl is not here ! " rang out 
 Durand's excited tones. 
 
 " Run do not tremble so, I will see you 
 safely beyond that villain's power, believe 
 me ! " breathed Le Britta as, clasping Gladys* 
 hand, he started along the side of the house. 
 
 Looking back, however, the photographer 
 discerned new cause for alarm. 
 
 Durand had discovered the avenue oi 
 escape of his fair prisoner, and at that 
 moment leaped out into the garden. 
 
 A little ahead Le Britta made out the car- 
 nage that had brought him hither. The 
 horses stood unhitched and no one near 
 them. 
 
 " Gain that vehicle," he spoke, hurriedly, to 
 
 Gladys. "Ah ! here we are. Quick! Jump 
 
 > I > 
 in !
 
 339 
 
 He tore open the carriage door, and forced 
 the girl within. Then he made a spring for 
 the driver's seat. 
 
 A quick hand grasped him, however, a 
 fierce, hissing breath grazed his ear. 
 
 " You meddling impostor ! Who are you ?" 
 
 " Release me." 
 
 In the powerful arms of Durand, held at 
 a disadvantage, Le Britta could only strug- 
 gle helplessly. 
 
 A swirling cut on the air mingled with a 
 thud and a gasp of dismay, and the hold of 
 the plotter was suddenly released. 
 
 Turning dismayed, the startled Le Britta 
 saw a form on the carriage-seat whirl the 
 whip. 
 
 He must have just sprang there from the 
 other side, for it was a stunning contact from 
 the heavy whip-handle that had laid Durand 
 prostrate on the ground. 
 
 There he lay, dazed, helpless, for the mo- 
 ment at least. 
 
 "Into the carriage, quick ! " ordere r< ,.r im- 
 perious voice to Le Britta. 
 
 "Mercy ! " breathed the photographe* . 'uh 
 wondering emphasis.
 
 340 
 
 "That voice oh! my wronged love!" 
 murmured Gladys. 
 
 "It is Vance!" gasped Le Britta, as he 
 sprang into the carriage beside the trembling, 
 excited girl. 
 
 Yes, it was Vance, arrived, it seemed, just 
 in time to turn the balance in favor of im- 
 periled friends. 
 
 The horses leaped forward at the crack of 
 the whip. Speeding down the road, Le 
 Britta ventured a look backward. 
 
 "They are following the other carriage !" 
 he ejaculated. 
 
 "They shall never overtake us," muttered 
 the resolute driver. " Gladys, courage ! We 
 are free at last ! " 
 
 Gladys uttered a joyful cry at her lover's 
 cheering tones. With eye, hand and whip, 
 Vance urged forward the mettled steeds. 
 
 Suddenly he brought them to a halt, that 
 jarred the vehicle in every spring. 
 
 "What is the trouble?" called out Le 
 Britta, apprehensively. 
 
 "Blocked." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "No bridge. See ! the river the shore 
 but the bridge is down."
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " We have taken the wrong road." 
 
 "And they are in pursuit ! " 
 
 " Shall we make a stand ?" 
 
 " Unarmed ? It would be folly." 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Vance, suddenly. " Here 
 is a road." 
 
 He directed the horses down a rough, 
 rutty side-road. He halted a second time, 
 dismayed, however, for the horses reared and 
 plunged as they were met by a formidable 
 heap of brush piled up directly in their 
 course. 
 
 " No thoroughfare ! " murmured Le Britta. 
 
 " Then we must make a stand and fight for 
 it," announced young Vance, determinedly. 
 
 He had sprung from the carriage seat, and 
 now tore open the door of the vehicle. 
 
 Gladys sprang to his arms like a fluttering, 
 frightened dove. 
 
 "Oh, Sydney! I fear, I tremble!" she 
 panted. 
 
 " They shall never tear you from my side 
 again ! " spoke Vance, resolutely. 
 
 "The lamp extinguish it! That has 
 guided those men after us," ejaculated Le 
 Britta, suddenly.
 
 342 
 
 " Too late ! they are coming this way," re- 
 plied Vance. 
 
 Down the road three forms were indeed 
 speeding. Durand and his two villainous 
 adherents. 
 
 Hot on the chase, they had located their 
 prey, whom the taking of a wrong road had 
 led into a trap. 
 
 " Vance, quick ! look here ! " spoke Le 
 Britta, hurriedly. 
 
 He had been investigating their surround- 
 ings, and not ten feet down a shelving bank 
 he discovered the river rolling swiftly. 
 
 The young man was by his side in an 
 instant. 
 
 " The river ! " he cried, with a start. " I 
 could swim, but she ah ! a raft, look ! " 
 
 With a glad cry he returned to Gladys 
 He hurried down the bank. 
 
 Moored there was a rude raft, and across 
 it lay a pole. Young Vance estimated the 
 distance across the stream. It was not far, 
 but, with some apprehension, he noted the 
 swift central current of the river. 
 
 " They are coming," announced Le Britta, 
 gazing down the road. 
 
 " Gladys, here, quick ! aboard ! "
 
 343 
 
 " Oh, Sydney ! it rocks is it safe ? " 
 
 " It is our only, our last resource, my 
 friend, Le Britta " 
 
 Vance untied the rope, secured the raft 
 to a tree, and siezed the pole. He tried to 
 hold the rude craft stationary for the photog- 
 rapher to join him. 
 
 At just that moment their pursuers came 
 up to the spot. Durand sprang boldly down 
 the slope. 
 
 "Rush on them! seize Vance, secure the 
 -irl ! " he raved, excitedly. 
 
 " Back, stand back !" ordered Le Britta. 
 
 He had seized a branch of a tree lying on 
 the beach. This he swung about his head, 
 keeping the plotter momentarily at bay. 
 
 " Pole out, never mind me ! " he shouted 
 to his friends on the raft. 
 
 There seemed no need of the injunction. 
 The raft had floated from shore, the rope 
 once untied. Just as it was drawn into the 
 central current of the stream, a cry of alarm 
 rang across the still waters. 
 
 " Mercy ! " gasped the petrified Le Britta. 
 
 The branch with which he had kept Durand 
 at bay dropped from his nerveless fingers, and
 
 344 
 
 the latter, like himself, abandoned the 
 
 flict to watch the raft in mid-stream. 
 
 In that mad swirl of waters the guiding 
 oar had been suddenly swept from Sydney 
 Vance's grasp. At the complete mercy of 
 the rushing vortex, the raft circled, toppled, 
 swept wildly forward. 
 
 Le Britta could see the terrified Gladys 
 cling to her lover. The face of the latter 
 was white with anxiety. 
 
 "They, are lost!" rang from the lips of 
 Durand as he ran down the shore, all heed- 
 less of Le Britta, to keep the imperiled 
 refugees in sight. 
 
 "The falls!" echoed the tones of one of 
 his fellow-plotters from the embankment 
 above. They are doomed ! " 
 
 A groan of horror burst from Le Britta's 
 lips. He saw the raft whirl around. It was 
 borne out of sight, it seemed to dip, it 
 shot past an intervening rock, and when it 
 appeared beyond, making fast and furious for 
 the falls, the brave lover of Gladys Vernon, 
 the beautiful orphan heiress herself, had 
 been swallowed up by those dark waters !
 
 345 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 NEARING THE END. 
 
 " WHY ! where are the folks ? " 
 
 Jera Le Britta asked the question in a tone 
 of profound surprise, one morning, two days 
 after the occurrence of the tragic events at 
 the riverside. 
 
 His face was pale and anxious, his man- 
 ner grave, haunted with the grief and uncer- 
 tainty that comes from solicitude, care and 
 disappointment, and he had just reached his 
 home door-step, and had peered through the 
 open windows to find the usual joyous 
 laughter of the little ones absent, the happy, 
 gentle face of his beloved helpmate nowhere 
 in sight. 
 
 A servant had met him with a welcoming 
 grin. 
 
 " Mrs. Le Britta and the children have 
 gone, sir," was her reply to the photograph- 
 er's quick query. 
 
 "Gone?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 11 To a picnic. The doctor and Miss Maud
 
 346 
 
 would take them. They have gone to 
 Pomme-de-terre cliffs. They didn't expect 
 you home, sir." 
 
 Le Britta smiled a trifle sadly. He pur- 
 sued his inquries sufficiently to know just 
 where he would find them, he brushed up his 
 rather disordered attire, proceeded to a livery 
 stable, and was soon speeding down a 
 smooth, broad road, intent on joining the 
 loved ones in their brief summer outing. 
 
 It was a beautiful day, but Le Britta's 
 heart was scarcely in harmony with its peace- 
 ful loveliness. 
 
 A deep sadness haunted his heart, a fer- 
 vent grief racked his thoughts. After all his 
 earnest efforts to aid Gladys Vernon, it 
 seemed as if fate had ordained a terrible 
 destiny for the poor, persecuted child of 
 fortune. 
 
 For that scene at the riverside had found 
 a most tragic ending. Running down its 
 shores, endeavoring to keep in sight the 
 rushing raft, the surface of the stream, in 
 appalled horror, the photographer had ar- 
 rived at the falls, to see the frail craft dashed 
 to pieces on the rocks below, and its late un- 
 fortunate occupants nowhere in view.
 
 347 
 
 Everything was forgotten in the disaster 
 of the hour. Durand, white to the lips with 
 dread, sought side by side with the anguished 
 Le Britta for some trace of the missing lov- 
 ers. Long before dawn, every member of 
 the searching party had decided that the 
 bodies of the refugees had been swept miles 
 away down the turbulent river, below the 
 falls. 
 
 Durand disappeared ere Le Britta could 
 find heart to condemn him for all his plotting 
 and cruelty that had availed his wicked soul 
 naught, but had brought death to two loving 
 creatures. 
 
 All the next day Le Britta sought vainly 
 for some trace of them, and then, over- 
 whelmed with grief, he proceeded to Haw- 
 thorne villa, acquainted Gladys' friends, the 
 lawyer and the doctor with the details of the 
 tragedy, and returned sadly homeward. 
 
 Little heart had he in festivity, but he felt 
 that he needed the sympathy of a loving wife 
 and friend amid his dark sorrow. He drove 
 along the smooth country road toward 
 Pomme-de-terre cliffs, realizing gravely that 
 his efforts in behalf of the wronged and perse-
 
 348 
 
 cuted victims of crime had failed of one 
 
 tangible result. 
 
 " Gladys and Vance dead, Durand free, the 
 fortune gone ! " he murmured, depressed and 
 sad. " It ends the case in gloom and dis- 
 aster." 
 
 Pomme-de-terre cliffs was a typical picnic 
 ground. The bluffs, the river and grand 
 alternations of forest and plain made it doubly 
 attractive, and even at a distance the 
 thoughtful Le Britta could make out gay 
 little parties of pleasure-seekers. At last, 
 near the old rustic mill at the river he caught 
 sight of a familiar dress, a pretty blending of 
 blue and amber he had often admired on his 
 charming helpmeet. He drove the horse to 
 a shady grove, dismounted, and approached 
 the cool spot near the river. 
 
 " Jera, old friend ! " 
 
 "Dick!" exclaimed Le Britta, turning 
 sharply as, making his way toward the river, 
 he was suddenly challenged. 
 
 Dr. Richard Milton grasped Le Britta's 
 hand heartily. His keen eyes scanned his 
 friend's face, penetratingly. 
 
 " You have bad news, Jera," he remarked. 
 " I can see it in your eyes."
 
 349 
 
 ' Yes, Dick," replied the photographer, 
 gloomily, "the very worst news, but it must 
 not distress the little ones and our friends 
 yonder. I have no right to bring gloom 
 upon their enjoyment." 
 
 " You must tell me, all the same," persisted 
 the doctor ; and forthwith he led his friend to 
 a grassy knoll, where Le Britta soon related 
 all liis tragic story. 
 
 Doctor Milton listened with a grave, start- 
 led face. He could not conceal his deep dis- 
 tress and agitation when the photographer 
 had concluded his graphic recital. 
 
 "Too bad!" he commented, "for I was 
 just beginning to see some very bright light 
 on a very dark subject." 
 
 "Concerning this same theme?" 
 
 "The Vernon case? Yes." 
 
 " I do not understand you, Dick?" 
 
 " You remember the tramp ?" 
 
 "Dave Wharton? Yes." 
 
 "And his daughter? " 
 
 " Poor, brave child ! I can never forget 
 her." 
 
 " You know, when you left me, I promised 
 to look after them ? " 
 
 " Which, of course, you did."
 
 350 
 
 " Yes ; but I could not spare the time to go 
 to the deserted cabin where they lived, and I 
 removed them nearer home, near here, in a 
 pleasant cottage, in fact." 
 
 "Always kind as ever to the poor in dis- 
 tress, Dick ! " murmured Le Britta, earnestly. 
 
 "The little one fascinated me with her pa- 
 tience and affection. I fancied I might 
 operate and restore her sight. At all events, 
 the serious illness of her father called for 
 grave attention I removed them, as I say." 
 
 "And the tramp?" 
 
 " Got decidedly better. I went to the 
 cottage one day to witness a touching scene. 
 The little child was kneeling by his bedside 
 praying for him, and he was in tears. I 
 thought it a good time to tell him all. I did 
 so. I made him realize all you had done for 
 him ; I made him comprehend the importance 
 of his proving Ralph Durand the murderer 
 of old Gideon Vernon. From that moment, 
 he seemed a changed man. Thoughtful, 
 silent, he would mysteriously say when I 
 broached the subject of the missing fortune : 
 ' Wait till Mr. Le Britta comes back.' One 
 day he disappeared, to return two days later. 
 Since then, he has been in a feverish state
 
 35' 
 
 of excitement to see you. Your folks wanted 
 an outing, and I brought them here. The 
 blind child and her father are with them in 
 the grove yonder. I am curious to learn 
 what revelations Wharton has to make to 
 you, for I believe that they are important, 
 and refer to the Vernon case." 
 
 "Alas!" murmured Le Britta, brokenly, 
 "of what avail are revelations, now that 
 Gladys and Vance are both dead ! " 
 
 He accompanied the doctor to the little 
 group near the river, however. There was a 
 hearty greeting, and it was only after wife 
 and children and pretty Miss Maud had over- 
 whelmed him with anxious questions that he 
 found time to speak to the little blind girl. 
 
 Her angelic face lit up with delight at his 
 friendly tones. Her father looked like a new 
 man in proper clothing, with the signs of his 
 former dissipation vanished from his face, as, 
 gravely, anxiously, he said : 
 
 " Mr. Le Britta, I wish to speak to you 
 confidentially." 
 
 Le Britta led the way from the spot. 
 
 " It's about the treasure, the hundred 
 
 thousand dollars," spoke the tramp; "you 
 
 
 see
 
 352 
 
 There was an interruption. As he spoke 
 a wild form dashed through the trees across 
 their path. 
 
 It was that of a girl, young, pale, beautiful. 
 With a terrified shriek she ran toward them, 
 clasping her hands piteously, gazing back as 
 if apprehensive of pursuit. 
 
 "Save me!" she cried, wildly, "oh, save 
 me!" 
 
 Jera Le Britta recoiled as he regarded the 
 forlorn figure before him. 
 
 For, wonder of wonders, the dead come to 
 life, the grave robbed of its victim, it was- 
 
 GLADYS VERNON ! 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 RETRIBUTION. 
 
 " SAVE me ! '' repeated the frantic Gladys 
 Vernon, and then recognizing Le Britta, she 
 tottered back to a tree, and stood there, 
 dumfounded. 
 
 " Miss Vernon ! " gasped Le Britta, " I 
 thought "- 
 
 " I was dead ? drowned ! yes ! yes ! " in- 
 terrupted Gladys, incoherently, "but we es-
 
 353 
 
 caped the flood by gaining the rocks in the 
 center of the river near the falls. But he is 
 hurt he is in peril ! " 
 
 "He? whom?" queried Le Britta, curi- 
 ously. 
 
 "Sidney Mr. Vance. That man do 
 not let him take me help." 
 
 "Hello!" 
 
 There was a crash in the wood, and a 
 form burst into view, panting, excited, 
 evil-eyed. 
 
 With the startled ejaculation the new- 
 comer, Ralph Durand, stared at Le Britta. 
 
 " You here ! " he scowled, darkly ; "always 
 the marplot of my destiny ! That girl ! She 
 is my legal ward. I demand her possession." 
 
 *' Never ! " cried Le Britta, placing a shel- 
 tering arm about the pale and terrified 
 orphan. 
 
 "We shall see!" raved Durand. "Ah! 
 you have friends. So have I, and they are 
 within call. What do you want ? " 
 
 About to utter a signal to his boasted 
 friends, evidently at a near distance, Ralph 
 Durand started back, as Le Britta's com- 
 panion advanced toward him.
 
 354 
 
 His eyes fixed steadfastly upon his face, 
 the tramp uttered the ominous words : 
 
 " At last ! You are the man ! " 
 
 At the same time he put forth a hand, as 
 if to seize the ruffian. 
 
 "Eh? What's this gibberish?" scowled 
 Durand. 
 
 " I say, you are the man / " 
 
 "What man?" 
 
 "The murderer of old Gideon Vernon! 
 Mr. Le Britta, I solemnly assert that I 
 identify this man as the assassin of the 
 master of Hawthorne villa. Seize him ! Do 
 not allow him to escape ! " 
 
 At the ringing words of the tramp, Ralph 
 Durand recoiled. Pale as death, he regarded 
 \Vharton with apprehension. 
 
 " What mummery is this ? " he choked out. 
 
 " No mummery, Ralph Durand," spoke Le 
 Britta, sternly. " Our friend speaks the 
 truth. Providence has destined this strange 
 meeting, for this man was a witness to the 
 tragedy that robbed Gideon Vernon of his 
 life." 
 
 "It is false!" 
 
 " It is true ! " 
 
 Ralph Durand had recoiled step by step.
 
 355 
 
 This accusation meaning peril and arrest, 
 caused him to momentarily forget the object 
 of his intrusion. 
 
 " Hold on ! You do not get away so 
 easily," spoke the tramp, springing in his 
 path. 
 
 "Stand back!" 
 
 "No, you are my prisoner an assassin. 
 You shall answer to justice." 
 
 "I will not!" 
 
 There was a quick struggle. No equal in 
 his weak, unnerved condition for the swarthy 
 Durand, the tramp was sent reeling back 
 from the conflict. 
 
 " Horrors ! " ejaculated LeBritta, as, simul- 
 taneously, there echoed forth the sharp report 
 of a fire-arm. " He has killed him ! " 
 
 He glanced apprehensively at the prostrate 
 Wharton, and then at the smoking revolver in 
 Durand's hand. Had the miscreant added 
 another crime to the long list, as a fit finale to 
 his career of wickedness ? 
 
 No, for Wharton regained his feet unhurt, 
 but Durand, with a frantic cry of pain and 
 alarm, reeled where he stood, toppled and 
 fell prone to the earth.
 
 356 
 
 "What has happened?" panted the terri- 
 ned Gladys. 
 
 "Retribution!" pronounced a solemn 
 voice, and Dr. Richard Milton appeared on 
 the scene. 
 
 " Dick ! " murmured Le Britta. 
 
 " I witnessed the appearance of this man. 
 I hastened hither. He is Ralph Durand ! " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " He has met his doom." 
 
 "Why"- 
 
 " Do you not see? In drawing a weapon 
 to resist our friend, Wharton, he exploded it 
 accidentally. Swearing will do you no good, 
 my man," added the doctor, kneeling beside 
 the prostrate Durand, who was raving 
 wildly. "You had better be thinking of 
 your sins, instead of adding to their enor- 
 mity." 
 
 "Will I die?" quavered the shuddering 
 craven. 
 
 Doctor Milton examined a gaping wound 
 in the chest. 
 
 "There is no use in deceiving you. Your 
 hours are numbered," spoke the doctor, 
 gravely. " Make your peace with earth and 
 'heaven, for you will not survive an hour."
 
 357 
 
 A frightened expression came into the 
 wounded man's face at this statement. All 
 the defiance and rascality of his nature seemed 
 to-ebb to the most cowardly shrinking, as he 
 found his feeble strength pitted against that 
 of the grim destroyer, death. 
 
 It was only when Le Britta began to talk to 
 him that he became more calm. As the 
 honest-hearted photographer depicted his 
 evil deeds, the results of their enactment, the 
 possible restitution within his power, the evil 
 face broke in the intensity of its malignant 
 hate. 
 
 He began to whimper, he sobbed, he broke 
 down utterly, and then, reluctantly, with late 
 atonement for his evil deeds, he admitted the 
 truth of the tramp's testimony, and, in the 
 presence of witnesses, acknowledged the 
 fearful crime that had robbed old Gideon 
 Vernon of his life. 
 
 Gladys shrank in horror from him, the 
 others regarded him as a monster. Le Britta 
 alone strove and pleaded with that wicked 
 spirit in its last hour of earthly experience. 
 
 He prayed fervently for the soul speeding 
 its way unshriven to the Creator whose laws 
 it had violated ; he tried to make Durand
 
 realize what he owed of penitence and sub- 
 mission and penalty to outraged justice. 
 Saint and sinner, thus they remained until 
 Doctor Milton touched his friend on the arm, 
 whispering softly : 
 
 " He hears you no longer he is dying." 
 
 Thus passed away the man who had caused 
 so much woe to many human hearts, in his 
 last moments revealing the fact that the 
 secret he held over Gideon Vernon was a 
 forged note, purporting to have been exe- 
 cuted by his dead son. 
 
 The tramp and Doctor Milton, meantime, 
 had gathered from Gladys the story of her 
 escape from the island in the river with her 
 lover, their flight, the pursuit by Durand and 
 his allies, their capture, and her last escape. 
 
 They went with her to the mill, and there, 
 guarded by Durand's two accomplices, they 
 found Sydney Vance, a bound prisoner. 
 He was soon released, and the two men, ac- 
 quainted with the details of Durand's doom, 
 made no resistance when threatened with ar- 
 rest if they did not accompany them to the 
 presence of Le Britta. 
 
 Like a judge on the bench, the photogra- 
 pher disposed of their cases. He made those
 
 359 
 
 hardened villains blush for their meanness in 
 persecuting a poor orphan girl. He showed 
 them how their sin, discovered, had failed of 
 any reward, and he bade them appear at the 
 inquest the next day, under penalty of being 
 arrested for their share in dead Ralph Du- 
 rand's iniquitous plots. 
 
 There were no further festivities that day, 
 for the tragic occurrence of the hour had 
 cast a gloom over the little company. Then, 
 too, the forlorn condition of Gladys and 
 Vance required attention. Their wild flight 
 and lack of rest and food had made them pale 
 and fatigued, and Le Britta insisted on an 
 immediate return to town. 
 
 What a warm welcome the desolate Gladys 
 received from the gentle-hearted Mrs. Le 
 Britta, and how sisterly and kind was the 
 sympathetic Maud ! 
 
 That night, like a dove returned to its cosy 
 home-cote after storm, wreck and peril, the 
 beautiful orphan slept as serenely under the 
 roof of the happy Le Britta, as if housed 
 under her own mother's loving care.
 
 360 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 WEDDING chimes ! 
 
 Jera Le Britta laid down the book he had 
 been reading, arranged tie and gloves at a 
 mirror, and prepared to descend to the draw- 
 ing-rooms of Hawthorne villa, as into its 
 open windows was wafted the clear silvery 
 jangle of 
 
 " Bells, bells, bells ! wedding bells, 
 What a world of happiness their melody foretells ! " 
 
 Six months have passed since the day that 
 the family picnic terminated in a tragedy, and 
 strange and startling events have occurred 
 since that time. 
 
 As in a dream, the photographer pausing 
 on the broad stairway of Gladys Vernon's 
 regal home, surveyed the throng below, re- 
 flecting on the happiness it engaged in', and 
 thanked heaven for his involuntary part in 
 bringing it all about. 
 
 From the hour that Gladys Vernon became 
 an inmate of the Le Britta home, her troubles 
 seemed to dissipate. 
 
 The identification of the tramp of Ralph
 
 3*1 
 
 Durand as the real assassin of her father, the 
 confession of the villain himself, and the addi- 
 tional testimony of his two cowardly accom- 
 plices, was sufficient to clear the proud name 
 of Sydney Vance of every stain of seeming 
 guilt. 
 
 The world knew the truth at last. The 
 world impulsively bestowed the hero's crown 
 on the brave, single-hearted man, who, for 
 pure love of his fellow-beings, had risked life 
 and fortune to rescue a friendless orphan 
 from the power of a scheming scoundrel. 
 
 In his gentleness of soul, Jera Le Britta 
 could not but forgive Durand's two emissa- 
 ries, and with an impressive warning he bade 
 them go and sin no more. To the sinister 
 Meredith, however, he gave a stern, condem- 
 natory lecture that checked his rascality and 
 made him atone for the crimes he had 
 committed. 
 
 The culminating point in the entire case 
 was the final revelation of Wharton, the 
 tramp. It was the production of the missing 
 hundred thousand dollars. 
 
 His explanation was simple. The, very 
 night that Le Britta had been shut up in the 
 iron vault by Darius Meredith, the tramp
 
 had surreptitiously entered the place and 
 recovered the stolen packet of which he had 
 been robbed. 
 
 Six months past by in straightening out 
 the tangle of the Vernon fortune, and now, 
 with the past only a dark memory, with the 
 future a path of flowers, illumined with golden 
 sunshine, Gladys Vernon was about to wed 
 the man she so devotedly loved. 
 
 That afternoon, Jera Le Britta, an hon- 
 ored invited guest, had taken a picture at 
 the villa that was to be a rare memento of 
 the photographic art, as well as a treasured 
 souvenir. 
 
 It showed Gladys in fair bridal array, it 
 showed brave, stalwart Sydney Vance by her 
 si 4 de, proud and happy, in the company of the 
 one woman he had ever loved. The tramp, 
 the new Dave Wharton, purified by suffer- 
 ing, open-faced in the pride of reformation, 
 was a lay figure in the background, where 
 also lingered . the modest Doctor Milton, 
 pretty Miss Maud smiling by his side. 
 
 Le Britta was compelled to officiate at the 
 camera, of course, so he was represented by 
 his beautiful wife and two loving cherubs. 
 
 And in the foreground, her face like that of
 
 363 
 
 an angel, beaming, grateful, serene, was the 
 little blind girl, and a new expression in 
 those gentle eyes told that faithful Doctor 
 Milton's patient work had brought a result, 
 and she saw God's blessed sunlight once more, 
 and was the happiest of all God's blessed 
 creatures, in all the wide, wide world, that 
 lovely spring morning ! 
 
 " Oh ! what we owe you, Mr. Le Britta ! " 
 murmured Gladys, as she placed her tremu- 
 lous hand upon his arm. "See what your 
 sacrifice and perseverence have wrought 
 happiness for half-a-score of people. We 
 can never thank you ! " 
 
 " Not to me," replied the photographer, 
 gravely, " but to heaven we must be grateful. 
 Its instruments are chosen and armed, and 
 wrong will always be crucified in the end, 
 right must triumph. I have done my duty 
 its reward makes this day seem like the days 
 that will dawn, never to fade, beyond the gates 
 that are ever ajar ! " 
 
 Wedding bells ! 
 
 How they rang out. How they echoed in 
 the ears of the joyful coterie of friends, who. 
 at eventide, bade happy Gladys Vance a 
 brief adieu !
 
 364 
 
 The heart of Jera Le Britta was too full 
 for utterance as they drove homeward in the 
 gloaming. 
 
 Victory had crowned his efforts, success 
 promised in the practical, every-day life 
 ahead, health, prosperity and happiness 
 were his. 
 
 To work with men, to work for men - 
 what a glad existence ! To better the con- 
 dition of humanity in his daily tasks, how 
 calm, how radiant the results ! 
 
 Pinion-poised, across their path, as he re- 
 flected, a lark sprang from the heather. 
 
 Up it arched, flying straight into the face 
 of the calm and holy stars. So the soul of 
 the thinker seemed to soar to higher life, to 
 nobler ambitions and impulses. 
 
 He followed the quick flight of the bird. 
 It seemed a promise for the future, a lesson 
 from the past. 
 
 For, amid the glory of the spangled night, 
 the lark seemed singing at the gates of 
 heaven ! 
 
 THE END.
 
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