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. 000127748