The Warner weekly sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1885, 1884-04-11
TIE LAST gEYEI.
a wild story o. i stranRe rate o. . vol.

hurried along the road from town,
for it was already late. Time had flown
faster than / thought, and night had
come on intensely dark by the time /
reached the gate. The sky was over
cast with heavy, lowering clouds, that
seemed almost to brush the wavering
tree-tops. The air was chill, and the
wind blew from the east in unsteady
gusts, driving the clouds and mist be-
fore it, and making chance wayfarers
SILVER under their greatcoats and wraps.
I paused a moment before the great iron
gates, for q wailing sound, hat might
have come from lost spirits in their tor
ture struck a strange fear to my heart. 1t
was but the wind whistling through the
iron bars and, with an exclamation of
contempt for such weakness, l rang the
bell, and the gates were opened by the
silent attendant.
As / passed between the massive
stone pillars, the couchant bronze lions
seemed to start out of the darkness and
the gates closed heavily behind me.
Their iron clang snlote on my ear with
a sound as of a knell, and the SAN
strange fear came over me again. 1t
was gone in an instant, and / walked up
the avenue that led to the house. The
tall trees that lined the path on either
side were decked with fantastic lanterns
that were tossed to and fro by the rising
gusts as though fiends waved them in
glee. Beyond the trees the house
doomed up-grotesque enough in the
daytime, but giving in the darkness an
impression of mild grandeur. Lights
glittered here and there from its front,
like elfin fires. where the curtains now
and then swayed, back from the win
dows, and seemed to Justify the wild
tale, as it ran among the townsfolk,
that the house was haunted. Haunted
it was, and by as restless and terrible q
spirit as ever formed the theme of ghost
ly story; but he was yet of mortal form.
AS / walked up the broad steps to the
doors, they swung open, and the light
burst forth in a binding glare.
"Am I late, Merton 2" / asked of tn
acknowledged servant who took my
coat as the doors noiselessly closed be-
hind me.
"They re I'LL here, sir" was his non
committal answer. l entered the long
room whence the sound of voices came
fast and furious. The wild gorgeous
ness of the furnishings-the walls
covered with rich draperies, the dark
framed paintings (the widest and most
horrible in art that showed from be-
tween the heavy folds as they were
drawn back, the chairs and tables,
carved of strange woods into grotesque
shapes-were mute witnesses to the
wanton and eccentric tastes of the own
er.
Under the brilliant lights q gay COM
pany of roisterers gave the final touch
to the scene. Gathered around the
tables, feyerishly watching the throw
of the dice or the turn of a card, their
eyes seemed to glow with a brightness
of their own, as If to rival the lights
themselves. The clink Of money, as il
was piled mn on the table, On swept into
the winners hands, the contagion Of exr
ample, the confusion Of voices, seemed to
excite one and all to wilder extravaganza.
1t was an intoxication of gambling.
Over the mad scene the host presided,
the widest Of that wild company. He
was, indeed, the ft leader of those
around him. His name is still spoken
with bated breath by those among
when he lived. 1t is, to them, the inn
personation of evil. / dare not record
it here, for the events Of which 1 write
are too recent; but he will be known to
these pages as Charles Gordon, Tor
both these names were his by right OF
christening.
AS I entered he was Standing by q
table, over which three of his guests
were feverishly bending.
"A hundred on the redi" / heard him
cry, as he threw a handful Of gold on
the table. Then, as he caught sight OF
me, he came quickly forward without
announcer nOuRn OF Ills wager
Hail again, Gilmorei" he cried, gal
ly. "You come late, Time flies with
US, you know flies lightly on the wing,
the poets say. Five minutes yet before
the upper is announced. Make the
best or the worst Of your time. Throw
the golden fuel on the fires of chance.
See, how it kindles Che blood and CLEANS
in the eye!" He grasped my arm as he
spoke, and pointed to the eager group
at the table. "But You are pale, he
said, suddenly, looking at me sharply.
1T Is nothing" ] replied. 1T is q
little chill outside"
"Ahr he exclaimed, there's nothing
like wine and play to stir up the blood.
No pale cheeks here, young man" And