The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1889-11-22

covered the spy but that he had dropped
behind limb and was hidden.
He knew not at first whether it was
the detective in the flesh, or his spirit re-
turned to drag him down to Hades. and
In either case 1t was bad enough to make
him shiver.
Fancy his feelings-so close to this
Russian bloodhound who was on his
track, doubtless armed with all the pa
pers necessary to take him across the
water to the most terrible doom that
could befall man, and besides which,
death at the gibbet or guillotine lost its
terrors-a life in the salt mines of Sibe-
ria for tremendous political offenses
against the Gar.
Satisfied, apparently, that he had been
mistaken in thinking that he had heard
noise, the man resumed his work of
writing, and Capt. Grant gradually raised
his head again.
For ten minutes those tiger eyes were
glued upon the detective.
Then the soldier began to descend the
tree with the agility and noiselessnes5 Of
cat. Once upon the ground he stood
and shook his fist upward, muttering
low words which contained terrible
threats. Turning, he vanished from
view among the trees beyond the mill,
and in about the same place as where
the two women had seen him disappear
on that other evening, when they could
not tell whether it was Roger Darrell or
some one else, the two men being OF the
same build and the atmosphere decep-
tive.
A couple Of hours later Capt. Grant
once more appeared upon the scene. In
his hand he carried q large can of coal
oil, stolen from some neighboring farm
house. His object was apparent he in
tended to destroy the mill after all, and,
if the thing We're possible, to get rid Of
the detective at the same time.
For some time he glided about in the
lower part of the mill. Not light was
to be seen, for Carol had returned to her
room in the dwelling, and her mother
had closed the blinds in the lower story,
so that she might be undisturbed in her
occupation of reading old letters from
her husband.
The Captain used dark lantern, and In
q short time had everything arranged
A slow match was ignited that would
take a certain length of time to burn, and
during that time he meant to secure the
detective in his room. Escape by means
of the window was out of the question,
for it was only small bull s-eye opening,
and even a much more slender man than
the Russian detective would have trouble
In passing through it.
Up the stairs crept the would-be mur-
derer with the stealth of burglar. His
ears were on the alert for any sound, but
nothing was to be heard save the heavy
breathing of the sleeper in the little
room.
All this while the slow-match he had
ignited down below was slowly creeping
toward the oil-saturated rags ard chips,
which, once blazing, nothing could ex-
tinguish. Capt. Grant little knew what
danger he was mourning and the terrible
trap he was about to enter.
Reaching the room in which the Rus
sian detective lay sleeping, having
thrown himself upon the cot without un-
dressing, the man-devil looked in. The
candle still burned. but dimIy from want
OF snufling, and as the door was open he
saw that the key was on the inside.
To remove this to the outside was his
first care. This he accomplished without
awakening the sleeper, and then all was
in readiness for the elimination of his
plan, but he could not resist the tcmpta-
tion to creep across the little room and
gloat over his enemy once more before
the fire cremated him.
To be conttRued)