The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1878-11-02


ms Whlskers had been cut, and his red
oish hair stained black, it was the face
OF George Harland, the assistant teller
OF our bank He looked at me in an
asgoDlzed way, then put his finger to his
lips, and said in a low, broken voice:
My God! Henry, I am thief, trying
to escape-to escape. l know they are
after me-" Then he shuddered. 81 am
madIcrazed-have lostmy head. You
here! Do not betray meW
10 Dickerson's," cried the driver,
and Oft went the coach. From Dicker-
sons | knew that small fishing boats ran
to Martha's Vineyard and the Massa-
chusetts coast. l stood appalled,, dazed,
and SPECIFICS.
Mrs. Bland met me on the veranda
with some flower in her hand which ex-
hailed deep, lucious perfume The odor
quite sickened me. "Ladies and gents"
cried the good-natured, familiar land
lord in bis shirt-sleeves, " it isn't down
on the bill of fare, but we have been
quite short of fruit, peaches and SIGH, for
the last three days, and nary boarder has
! grumbled. | come across a fine lot of
fruit this afternoon, and they is sot in
the dining-room, and do you all jess go
in and help yourself" Mrs. Bland was
near me, and clapped her hands with
childish glee, notwithstanding her
pricked finger. Will you take me in?"
she asked quite naturally.
| | had no heart for peaches, still | Of
fered the woman my arm. There was a
group of noisy boarders at long table,
! but, through David's care, Mrs. Bland
| oil fob VII;
was placed a dish of peaches, fanked
with huge half-moons of watermelon.
You saw him?" asked Mrs. Agnes
Bland, pairing a peach with a silver
pocket fruit-knife, which she drew from
her pocket. "Dear me! the Juice of the
peach gets into my cut finger, and really
stings."
"Saw him, Mrs. Bland! For Gods
sake, what does this all meant"
81 like cling-stones better than free
stones. should be so much obliged to
you if you would pare a peach for me.
| My finger makes nae so awkward"
Are you Nemesis, Mrs Bland?"
ga what? [ don't know what that
means. Explain"
cob! the man in the coach? Now,
sir, listen. The '$28.O7. Korrect,' you
wrote on that bill of mine gave me a
clue to your handwriting. Mr.. Bland
there is a Mr.. Bland-sent me down
here after you. Those figures and K-o-r-
rect cleared you. There were no fig
ures like yours in the altered accounts
| George Harland was a thief. was glad
when | could congratulate you on your
| luck"
"Luck, madam! what dou mean?"
You were the only gentleman here
all the rest of them were cads and muffs.
Your society was not unpleasant to me,
and / should have so disliked to'have
been the means of bringing a thief to
your door. Mr.. Bland was on that
coach, with the driver You may have
noticed first blue splutter and then
red splutter from the match. That
meant All right George Harland has
misappropriated $4,000 belonging to
your stupid old bank, and did it, clever
as you are in figures, right under your
nose, sir. The papers for the last week
have had an inkling of it-not where
you would look for the news, but in per-
sonals and advertisements. That is why
/ read the papers. Please don't go! any
sympathy | might have had-and | have
not much to waste--was really that of
thankfulness that quite a decent young
man like you was safe. Mind, never
suspected you, though Mr.. Bland might
have done so. George Harland ought
to have $4,000, in notes, with him. on
his person, this very moment" There
was base look of greed ia the woman's
face.
You are, then, Madam-w
"The wife of Mr. Bland | am
showing me set of white teeth, a single
black melon-seed increasing their pearly
lustre by contrast, "that you do not
like me as well-at least my society-as
you did an hour ago" There was a
little bit of killing disdain about the
woman. | suppose the scorn on my face
was manifest, for | made no effort to con-
ceal it.
"Great Lord, save usp' said David,
coming in and addressing us, "some-
thing dreful happen-dat- man in de
stage-coach-"
"Not run away-escapedp said Mrs.
Bland, springing to her feet with the
latent energy of Jonathan Wild. Her
eyes had lost their pale blue simmer,
and glinted like cold steel; the burrows
between hereyes took strange, arabesque,
sinister traceries. 1t was dreadful face
to see.
"No, Ma'am-woss nor that. He
blow his brains out, right iii de coach"
David" said Mrs. Bland, now as
quiet and unrippled as dish of milk in
dairy. "David, bring me napkin,
and | will take another bit of melon-if
you will help me, sir"
But | did not help Mrs. Bland.