Devils Lake inter-ocean. (Devils Lake, Ramsey Co., Dakota [N.D.]) 1884-1905, 1886-11-13

MilIuaie jail, where he was suDJected to the
ignominious process of having his pockets
searched by a jailer. In one Of them was
found the little bottle given him by the gen
tleman at Grandc.lester, and this, together
| with u few other %lrifles, was handed over to
the authorities for investigation.
CHAPTER II.
IN Ian VILE,
Instead of making any vain attempt at
sleep, George Caulfield asked for pens. ink
and paper, and a lamp that would last him
for the best part of the night; and on these
luxuries being conceded he sat down to
write a long letter to his mother, relating all
the circumstances Of his miserable Journey.
and entreating her not to take alarm at his
| situation, whatever she might read about
him in the newspapers. This letter, which
would travel by the morning post, could be
| preceded by a telegram informing the old
lady that her son was safe. and detained at
Mlldale on business. Some hours of anxiety
the son could not spare that beloved mother:
and it was more painful to him to think of
her trouble, when five o'clock came and
brought no returning traveller, than to con-
template his own position.
"Dear old lady! I can fancy her and all
uoI Ned1 duu CdIolul uT~TuuR0U16nCS Tor my
comfort" unused MI. Caulfeld. II know
how distrustful she will be of the maids.
and how she will insist upon getting ND at
four o'clock in order to see about my break
fast. And then when the time comes. and
no hanson drives up to the gate, what
agonies she will suffer. for I have never
accustomed her to disappointment. l have
never broken my word to. her in my life."
The curate tretted and fumed at the
thought of his mothers anxiety. He was
an only and an adoring son-at 'thirty-two
years Of age a confirmed bachelor, loving no
one on earth as well as he loved the widowed
mother. whose cherished companion he had
been from childhood upward. Had she not
removed her dearly loved goods and chat
tells to Eton, and lived in a small house in
the High street all the time her boy was at
school there1 Had she not followed him to
Cambridge as faithfully as a sutler follows
a camps And now she had one of the pref
test houses in South Kensington, and her
son was first curate at the most intensely
Gothic church In that locality. George
Caul1eld's mother was the love of his life.
He had been assisting at a choral festival at
q small town near Grandchester, where an
old college friend of his fathers was vicar.
and had been only three days away from
the dainty little nest at South Kensington,
where blue china plates had just broken out,
like pimples, on the sage-green walls, and
where the Queen Anne mania showed itself
modestly in divers inexpensive details.
"Poor motherp sighed George; "a tele-
gram can hardly reach her before nine
o'clock at the earliest"
He read his Tennyson; he dozed a little;
he got rid of the night somehow, and at
seven o'clock he had written and dispatched
two kilograms.
The first was to his mother; the second
was to the vicar, from whom he had parted
at eleven o'clock the previous morning, and
to whom he was inclined to look for succor,
as one of the cleverest and most energetic
men he knew. This latter message was brief:
From George Caulfield, Milldale Jail, to
EDWARD Leworthy, Fleshmead vlcarage:
in a great difficulty"
Portable breakfast by md by, and was in
clined to sympathize. He knew a gentle
man when he saw one, he old the curate,
though he had had to deal with a tough lot
In this beastly hole. He had seen q good
many murderers in his time, and the posi-
bility of his prisoners guilt made very little
difference to his feelings. Guilty or not
guilty. a man who was free-handed with
half-crown pieces was entitled to respect.
The difference between a half and a
tior1n was just the difference between your
real gentleman and the spurious article.
The actual amount was not much, but that
odd sixpence marked the distinction.
This functionary informed Mr.. Caulheld
that the inquest was to take place at four
o'clock that afternoon.
(which gives you time to communicate
with your solicitor" he added, granaly.
"But l haven't any solicitor" answered
the prisoner. II never have had any law
business in my lifc."
) much the better for you, sir, responded
the jailer, sententiously; abut you must have
q lawyer to watch this here case for you"
"lll wait till my friend the vicar OF Fresh
mead comes. and tax his advice about it,"
said George. II know he'll come as soon as
the rail can bring him"
His confidence was not ill.placed. Soon
after noon Mr.. Leworthy was ushered into
his room. He was between fifty and sixty
a man with a countenance full of vivid. in
telligence, bright brown eyes and gray hair,
worn longer than the fashion. 1t was alto
gether a poetic head, but the mans tempera-
ment fitted him for action and effort al
thoroughly as his intellect gave him mas
terry in brain work.
Such a friend as this was verify a friend in
need. The two men clasped hands, aud for
the first minute &c orge Caulfield was speech
less
TELL mel all about it, said the vicar, sitting
down by his friends side with as cheerful an
air as II it were a common thing for him to
find a friend in prison.
George Caulfeld related his dreadful ad-
venture of the previous night. the vicar lis
tening intent!v, with knitted brows.
ut looks like murder" he said at last.
"The poor creature was carried to the STA
ton in a dying state. and that stertorous
breathing you noticed when the train started
was the last struggle. Don't be afraid, my
dear boy; there is not the slightest reason
for uneasinsss Our business is 10 find out
all about this poor lady. and the man who
placed her in the train. She must have
been brought to the station in some kind Of
vehicle-cab, bath chair-somethins. The
first thing to be done is to have inquiries
made among the cabmen and cab proprie.
tors The police will do all that; but I shall
have to watch your interests in the matter.
You must have q clever lawyer, too, to
watch the case. Brockbank, of Grandches-
ter, will be the man-always about the
criminal court there, up to every move. I'll