Democratic messenger. [volume] (Snow Hill, Md.) 1869-1973, 1881-05-28
SKELETON KEYS.
A Story in Five Chapters.
Concluded. I
CHAPTER III.


The little packet rested in a limp
chamois- leather purse, otherwise empty.
He drew it out as he went, and looked
at it, and there clearly impressed upon
the paper in n blurred outline, like the
beginning of heel-ball copy of an old
brass, was the outline of q small KEY.
He could follow the same outline with
his fingers. 1t seemed probable that
the key was intended fer lock, some
where or other, and that the lock pro-
tected something. He put the little
packet carefully back again, and, MUNICH
ing fragments of his loaf, marched on,
castle building. Five and thirty miles
since morning. Exhausted nature said,
"Do no more;" sturdy will of the bull
let-headed Briton said, "Another mile. 4"
Six and thirty miles since morning.
Exhausted nature cried out, "Beware a
breakdown Z" Said the bullet-headed
Briton, stumbling sorely, Gone more
mile" And so the fight went on till
forty miles were finished. Feet raw,
with much CALLING. Honest gray eyes
dim with great fatigue and pain. Boots
wrecked, shoulders bent, plain, resolute
countenance pale and worn, with streaks
of rain-drawn dye from forehead to
chin, distilled from the crumpled felt.
He sold his waist-coat for sixpence'to an
old-clothes man in the next town he
came to, and bought food, and pegged
along munching. As he munched he
sighted a miserable figure ahead, and
by and by overlook it. The miserable
figure threw him a salutation in for
eign accent. He returned it and went
on, not being in a mood for converse
with anybody. But looking back he
saw that the man looked pale and weak,
and so waited for him to come up.
"Hungry, mate?" said the barrister-
at-law.
"Half dead" said the man with the
foreign accent.
Walter shared his loaf, and the other
fell ravenously at it without a thank
you.
Glow far are you going?" asked the
Englishman.
"Ten miles to-day" said the foreigner
with groan and French anathema.
"Good day and good luck to you. "
The barrister- -at-law was ahead again,
meaning to do much more than ten
miles that day; but before ten miles
were done, or for that matter five, the
rain came down in such drenching tor
rents that he took refuge in an open
barn, and thither came the Frenchman
also, dripping wet and looking scarce
alive. They sat upon straw and watched
the rain as it pelted down. Walter
shared his last pipe of tobacco with the
miserable stranger, and the two fell to
talk together, and shared condolences so
far as to tell each other nothing that
was true. The barrister trotted out his
simple alias of John Jones, and an
nounced his destination as Seven Dials.
The Frenchman gave his name as Ii
burce Menseau, and frankly avowed
himself without destination. The rain
subsided little and they made another
start, but before they had gone a mile
it came down worse than ever, and they
took shelter in another outhouse.
"Where shall you sleep tonight ?"
asked John Jones.
cat the next workhouse," said Ii
burce Menseau. "They will give me
bed and supper, and although they will
make me work before 1 go, they will
give me bread for breakfast. That is
something, let me tell you, when a man
is starving"
"Something-yes," said John Jones,
and fell thinking.
John Jones was faint; John Jones
was weary and foredone. For dweller
in the Seven Dials he entertained sin
gular objection to sleeping in a work
house. Yet where else could he rest ?
Who would give him shelter?
Nell shan't suffer for any fine
mouthed freak of mine," said the bullet
headed "Tm not going to break down
to oblige anybody's notions of pride.
You'll lie in the workhouse tonight,
John Jones, as BELTS your Seven Dials'
breeding"
When the rain ceased again they
plodded on once more, and, turning
matters over in his bullet-head, John
Jones determined to cGcher his little
packet. So, finding a crumb or two OF
bread, he moisened them into paste be-
tween his lips, and retiring behind o
hay stack, he smeared the glutinous
softened bread upon one side of the
paper packet, and fastened it within the
leather lining of his felt hat. Who
knew what treasure he carried there
Not he; though he had all sorts oI
visions. The visions were all for Nell
but Nell belonged to hungry tramp
whose boots were broken, and who
carried Il Dorado In his hat,