Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1886-10-05

Il know of an old barn where he could
be comfortable enough for the day. she
said. "You could get him away from
there after dark
Eyes, of course could do that. l could
get a trap from distance" said the colo
mel @How far is your barn."
Ten minutes walk"
aGood Then we must try to get him to
90 there quietly, and Of his own accord. /
shall look to you to help me. To whom
does this barn belong, by the way, and
now can you be sure that no one will go
there before nights'
at belongs to Mr.. Sommerton, who rents
the next farm" answered Mrs. Jaker. "He
uses it in summer for some of Squire Col
chester's hunters, but it's empty all the
winter, and no one goes near it for weeks
at stretch 1 don't think there's any
fear of anybody going there to-day
I'VE must risk it, at any rate, said the
colonel You had better stay down here
and be ready to go with me when l bring
the young man downstairs"
Il don't think you'll get him to bulge"
Mrs. Jaker said, doubtfully.
But the colonel had faith in himself
He had been called upon to deal with this
species of lunacy before to-day. He had
sublime patience, and he knew that If
anybody could manage a maniac he could
do it.
He went upstairs again. The young
man who called himself Camillac was ly-
ing in lstless attitude, with his eyes half
closed. The colonel stood in the doorway
for some minutes observing him. The face
was handsome even its ruin. Pale, cadav-
erous, thin and wasted IS 1t was, there
were traces of exceptional beauty in the
delicately chiseled features, the perfect
proportions of chin, and cheek, and brow,
the rich mass of wavy black hair, the silk
ened lashes and finely penciled eyebrows
Just the kind of face to catch school
girls fancy, to dazzle as the coun-
tenance of demi-god Nor was
there any doubt that the man looked
like a gentleman. Those slender
white hands lying on the patchwork COW
erlet were hands that ever toiled. They
had shaken the dice-box often enough,
and handled the billiard cue, but they had
never labored for bread
Col. Stukely shut the door sharply, and
the sick man started up, looking at him,
scared and hurried and eager.
"Are they there?" he asked.
"Yes," answered the colonel at a ven
ture, they have hunted you down. Get
up and put on your boots. I'll get you out
of tn. way if l can"
The young man got up and staggered
across the room. He was too weak to
move steadily. And then he sunk into
broken down chair, and sat looking at
him vaguely. The boots were in a corner
-dilapidated, worn down dress boots.
The mud had been roughly wiped off
them with wisp of straw, and that was
all. The colonel picked them up and
looked at them before he handed them to
their owner. Yes, they would have made
just those prints which the detective had
shown him on the flower-beds. There
was the small heel, worn to the quick
upon one side, the straight narrow sole
and pointed toe-a French bootmaker's
masterpiece.
Camillac put on the boots, looking
up at the colonel with suspicious air as
he did so.
allow do know that you are not one of
them" he said.
"Do look like policeman"
"You don't. But that doesn't matter.
You have something to do with them all
the same"
a am Grace Darnel's godfather, and /
am here to save you"
"Grace! She sent you then and she
does care for me still Her letters have
been eevilish cold for the last six months
I began to think she wanted to throw me
over"
"There is no time to talk Of that now. If
those men get hold of you"
CONTINUED Mondau, Oct. III