New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1880-03-10

gave q loud knock, and stepped
back to note the effect. The light in
the second floor was not moved, but
the window was opened, and a head
popped out, and . gruf voice de-
manded:
who's therep''
"Does Mr.. Darke live hereg''
"Why do you want to know?''
I've got . telegraphic message for
him"
"Ugh! Alright! Wait minute"
A very gruff voice, certainly. Next
moment the door was opened, as far as
the chain would admit, and great
muscular hand was thrust out.
"Hand it here,'' said Mr.. Darke.
Accordingly placed the note in his
hand.
"Wait . bit, till I see whether any
answer is required
In minute or two the window was
again opened. "No answer" and the
easement was slammed down. With
the exception OF voice, had no more
idea of Mr.. Darke when I left No. 80
than had when went. had merely
seen the outline of his head when he
looked out of the window. Whether
he was an old man or q young man, a
fair man or dark man, I was equally
At = loss to know.
lronville is thirty-five miles from
Newstone. The mail train runs the
distance in rather under an hour, and
reaches the latter place at $50 o'clock.
As the clock pointed to $50, I set off
for stroll up the platform, determined
that if any dwarf, or giant, or other
strange monster arrived by the train,
he should not depart unseen by me.
half expected to find Mr.. Darke waiting
for the train, but he was not to be
seen. True to the time, the train
or<wled slowly into the station; and in
another moment the platform was
flooded with those strangely-attired in.
dividuals, whose business or pleasure
induces them to travel by night. No
dwarf, no giant, nor other strange
monster. Only one passenger for
Newstone. all the others booked
through, as was evident from their
frantic struggles to find their seats the
moment the bell clashed out its warn
ing note. And this one passenger!
A slim gentleman, stylish1y dressed,
young, without whiskers, but with q
long, fair mustache, which he was fond
of stroking with his exquisitely -gloved
thumb and finger. He alighted jaunt-
lily from first-class carriage, smiled
amiably on the porter, who touched
his cap, took up his small black port
manteau, gave one hurried. anxious
glance round, broke into smile again,
staggered slowly down the platform,
and, pushing through the heavy fold
ing-doors, emerged into the street.
Some swell from London come to spend
Christmas with his friends, said to
myself. But where can he be going to
at this time of the morning? None of
the inns will be open for above an hour.
Without waiting to consider whether
it was any business of mine, pushed
through the folding doors after the
traveller. He was walking slowly
across the little square in front of the
station, looking from side to side, as il
not knowing which road to take. Sud-
denly dark figure glided out from be-
hind some projection, and advanced to-
ward him. could hear the murmur
of few words. Then the stranger
took the portmanteau from the trav-
eler's hand, and they went on together
at rapid pace into the town. All this
I saw by the light of the station lamps.
When the two figures got beyond their
influence, and passed out OF view in the
denser darkness beyond, impelled by q
vague feeling of curiosity, l drew my
coat closer around me, and set off after
them at a stealthy pace, taking the
darker side of the square as went. 4
had not tar to follow. They passed
into High street, and stopped opposite
No. 80. A moment more and they
were both inside the house and the door
was shut; another moment, and saw
the light shining from MIR. Darke's
room in the second floor front.
Having no expectation of seeing any
thing more turned back to the office,
and there, bending over a jovial fire,
fell gradually into doze, in which Mr..
Darke, the traveller, Carrie, q black
dwarf and Binks, the draper, were all
mingled in q fantastic drama, revolving
endlessly In my weary brain. What
had the Geographic message to do with
the handsome stranger? sleepily
kept asking myself, at intervals of q
few minutes, but without troubling N.Y.
self to find an answer. Suddenly new
light burst upon me. started up,
thoroughly awake and tearing open the
dispatch book read over again the first
part OF the message: "Lemon6ngers
starts by the mall" Well, what has
that to do with the handsome traveller
Why. this, doesn't the traveller wear q
pair of tightly-6tting lemon-colored
gloves? and wasn't the outside seam
of the first finger of the right hand
glove burst openp This had noticed
as he stroked his mustache. But, even
supposing the traveller to be the lemon
fingers Of tho message, what about the
black dwarfe There was no black
dwarf. He was alone. Alone? Yes,
but had he not with him small black
portmanteau, of which he seemed to
take particular care, refusing to let the
porter so much as take it out of the
carriage for him. A theory, ingenious,
but improbable, remarked to myself
as l put out the gas and drew up the
blind to admit the struggling day.
Ny duty was over at eight o'clock.
The London train was about to start
as l went up the platform on my way
home: Passing group of people
standing near 9 carriage door, was
suddenly startled by deep, gruf1
voice exclaiming to some one, Owe
shall be off in half minute more" II
would pick that voice from thousand
as Mr.. Darke's!' I exclaimed under
my breath, as 1glanced quickly round.
The group had dispersed, except two
persons. aman and q woman, who were
preparing to take their places in the
train. The person whom l took for
Mr.. Darke was q bulky, middle-aged
man, dressed in 9 good suit of black
clothes. He had black hair and thick,
black eyebrows; his whiskers were
black, meeting full and bushy under
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