Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1884-01-04

DEATH he thought, doggedly, "they
shall gain as little by it ns possible"
His next resolve was to go and consult
with Mr.. Foliambe.
1t was not case in which the law could
help him. The august machinery takes
no cognizance of suspicious, and provides
no safeguard for threatened lives unless
the threat be audible.
But as Mr.. Foljambo was not at home,
and would not return till evening, there
was still long day of forced inaction for
Cecil to drag through when he returned
from the bankers.
AS first attempt at melting out the
Witness Of the serpent to one of the ser
pent's brood, he wrote a courteous letter
to Count Slvestrelli. In it he excused
himself from calling, on the ground of
sudden business, which required his
presence in another quarter, and express
ed hope that the Countess had recover
ed the prejudicial effects of the previous
nights excitement.
Then a commissaire had to be found to
deliver it ; but when that matter was final
ly despatched, he felt there was nothing
else left for him to do. Miserable nullity
more pitiable than the pang of anguish
itself, when sorrow is spent, and life,
with all that makes it worth the living
swept away, spreads before our dull eyes
like drab ribbon unrolled.
When suffering from the deceit Of Es-
telle he had his literary labours to fall
back upon.
Now he stood with no interest to screen
his eyes from the cruel truth that fate had
denied him mans best good, and had
afflicted him with his worst evil.
The woman he loved could never be his
wife and his deadly foe had found him
out, and was logging his steps with the
persistence of stoat and the pitilessness
of tiger.
1t requires very robust manhood to
turn an undaunted front on such pha-
lanx of disasters Us those that threatened
| Cecil Chesterton.
Our civilization does not produce that
| type of hero he belongs to an age when
men possessed moro sinew and less sensi-
| bilty.
Poor Cecil, being a son of the nine
teenth century, was highly organized
creature, with mind out of all proper
ton to his muscle, and delicately bal
anced set of nerves and the various
troubles crowded into the last twelve
months of his life had left his system
quite unstrung.
| He spent several hours III foolish de-
bate between prudence and sentiment,
and finally decided in a way that led to 6
mos unfortunate sequel.
AS the afternoon advanced he became
nervous and restless, and vague feeling
of apprehension crept over him. tic
heard imaginary noises on the stairs, ano
saw stealthy shapes glide across his fire
illumined walls.
Coming calamity laid her GOLD fingers
on the man, and his spirit recognized il
and recoiled.
The dusk of evening set in early, FOL
the day had been overcast, and the nigh
threatened to be foggy, and at last un
able to bear the solitude of his shadow
haunted room, Cecil resolved to start TO
Foljambe's.
Ii he rode, he would arrive an hour too
soon, so he determined to take a long
walk across the parks to Bayswater
where the critic lived.
Exercise, he thought might chas'
away his demon of dread.
1t was about half past five when he lief
Fountain Court-not yet dark, but fas
becoming so-and nasty raw fog made
him button his coat to the chin.
Passing down the narrow court devoted
to petty shopkeepers, which is the near
est way to Essex Street, he brushed pas
two men lounging against news agent
window.
They were dressed as bicyciists, anC
had been hanging about the precincts o
the Temple for several hours.
piece of dead wall, in an angle of shadow
After turning out of the court, Ches
terton took the direction of the Tempt
Stairs. and in the space of a second o
two the bicyclists were trundling thei
machines down the street behind him.
He meant to take the road along tn
Embankment to Westminster. and appa
rently the two athletes had the same in
, tention for when they reached the love
: road they mounted their bicycles, an
turned their faces westward.
Cecil plodded along by the fog-burder
ed Thames. Behind him in the darkness
loomed two shadows, gliding ever for
ward without sound, like twin spirits
the Broken.
At Westminster Bridge he turned o
to the right, passing the Houses OF Pa
. llament ana tne ADUSl, uuu pioCcSue
e right through Victoria street to the Parl
And fast behind him, like attendant fate
came the bicyclirts.
A fog, growing donscr every minute
and deadening every sound, envelope
9 Birdcage Walk. The carriages that pas
: ed him at intervals were inaudible ii
: they were close upon him and but f'
l., their lamps, which CLEANED like ghost
e eyes out of the gloom, would have bee
n wholly invisible,
For more than half mile Cecil he
G on his way unwaveringly. He had tro
d den that road fifty times before, and b
ing but slightly acquainted with Lond'
fogs, had no idea how easy it is to 10
u ones way in them.
d But, after a while, it occurred to hi
that he must have gone past the path
!. which he ought to have diverged, for
q found himself where he never meant
/ be-upon the grass.
/ He would have to rctrace his steps.
While in the act of turning round
n encountered n severe shock. A thousal
r splinters of steel seemed to enter his ey
fireworks went off in his hcad-thc (
lie was full Of forked lightning ! Then IL
1t lowed darkness-chaos-o
he CHAPTER XIII.
ID ton>p,Tators,
rVja Itn1;or oyT0CLe uus a rnnn If