Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1890-11-22
A MISSING PASSENGER.

was chilly and damp, and the season early
in the spring. Passengers were few, and
the train was long array of almost empty
carriages. In the compartment occupied
there was only one other passenger, brisk
and dapper little man, whose baggage con-
sisted only of one black bag, with his name
and address painted in big letters thereon;
solver Hook, Boulogne-sur-Mer." 1t was
easy enough to identify him as we'll
known "bookie" or betting man, who, for
reasons connected with certain acts of Par
lament, had his headquarters at Boulogne.
Just as the train was on the point of start
ing the door of the carriage was hastily
opened; dark Italian face peered in, and
threw a searching glance about the COM
partment.
Haven't seen her tonight, Tomaso,"
said my companion, gravely, but atfably.
The Italian raised his hands with hope
less kind of gesture, and disappeared.
The train moved on, first through the
brilliant lights of Whitehall and West
minister, and then among dark roofs and
dim, meagre streets. Cannon street! There
was the Italian again scrutinlzing the half
dozen passengers who joined the train. At
London Bridge it was the same.
'Curious chap, that" said my compan-
ion. 'He's looking for his sweetheart and
it's thousand to one chance if he finds
her. Here, Tommy" he said, addressing
the Italian, 'iump in here and say how
you're getting along. Hi, boy, last special
Globel"
The Italian and the evening paper were
shot into the carriage at the same moment
as the train began to move. But when we
were in full motion, some one else, at the
peril of his life and amid warning cries
from porters and guards, opened the car
riage door and bolted in, sinking exhausted
upon the seat. Mr.. Hook instinctively
drew his evidently well-flled black bag
closer toward him, for the newcomer had
lawless: desperate look about his face,
and was evidently in high state of sup
pressed excitement. With the new ar
rival came chill that made all the other
passengers shiver Mr. Hook drew his
wraps about him; the Italians teeth
chartered, and vet the glasses were up, and
the temperature in the carriage was not
very low. Another strange thing was a
last arrival. At the first glance you
might have taken him for some desperate
escaping from Justice. In few moments
his expression of countenance had changed
completely. The dark, handsome face had
Jerome composed and Indifferent, and all
trace of excitement had disappeared. The
man drew cigarette from his case and be-
gan to smoke.
A headline in the last edition of the
evening paper caught my eye. 1t read
Suicide of Countess in a London Ho
tel" The paragraph was short, but sensa-
tional, A certain foreign Countess, one
Nine. de Bodija, who had excited some at
tention by the briIliancy of her beauty,
the richness of her jewels, and the ex-
travagance of her costume, had been found
dead in her rooms, evidently having pois-
oned herself. while on her dressing table
was letter from the Count de Bodija, her
reputed husband, announcing that he had
lost his last coin at the gaming tables, a
circumstance, he wrote, that necessitated
the breaking of a connection that had al
ready lasted too long. 1t was added that
all the Countess's jewel caskets appeared
to have been emptied and everything of
value made away with.
While was reading this paragraph Mr..
Hook was busily explaining its purport in
his copious, if not exactly classic, French
to his italian friend who looked abstract
edly, as if his thoughts were elsewhere.
The other man listened, too, with con-
cealed interest, and when Mr.. Hook wound
up with the assertion, Get homme etait
cochou, nest pas?' he dashed suddenly
into the conversation.
'Why so ?" he asked. allow do you
know how he was treated? Why should
you say evil of a man of whom you know
nothing"
Mr.. Hook eyed his interlocutor with a
keen, steady glance.
'Perhaps do know something of him."
he replied. 'Psrhaps met him in Liver
pool. Perhaps l laid him eight to seven
in hundreds against Cantharides"
A muttered execration escaped from the
stranger.
"Perhaps you have got his money in
that black bag of yours; the last hundred
of all his thousands" he suggested, with
sneer.
"Look here, Monsieur lie Comte," said
Mr.. Hook, calmly, 81 am not so foolish as
to carry lot of pewter about with me
but have a certain feeling for man who
has broke himself piling on the pieces
pluckily, whether it's on cards, or dice, or
horses, and if a flyer is of any use to
him"
of it is of any use to him !" cried the
other; "why; my good friend, it is Of the
greatest possible use. But see,' he contin
ued, flush as of shame passing over his
cheeks as he stretched out his hand for
the profiered notes, "a do not wish to re-
ceive aims. See, here is a trinket, the last
of my valuables; you shall hold this as
security till | redeem it"
The Count-if Count he were-pro-
duced a somewhat curious crucifix of
beaten gold, adorned with enamel and col
ored stones, which he handed to Mr.. Hook,
who examined it afiably through his eye
glasses for moment and popped it into
his black bag. The transaction passed so
quickly that it escaped the notice of the
Italian, who was staring intently through
the window at the blank darkness outside.
And when he turned his eyes upon the oc-
cupants of the carriage, the Count and
Mr.. Hook were engaged in amicable con-
yersation.
But somehow the journey down was not
a cheerful one, and it was something of a
relief when the train reached Dover.
When the train, with much creaking and
grooming; had come to a definite stop, the
carriage doors were opened by bluff,
good-humored person, to whom Mr.. Hook
at once handed his bag, and whom he ad-
dressed as civilian" William from the
first took charge of everybody, and mus
tered his little party with much decision.
"Now, gents, there's no hurry; the boat
can't start for another three hours. I'll see
to all the luggage. Follow me, please" "
Ard, waving his latern on high. the man
led the way through dimly-lighted booking
Offices and empty corridors till we reached
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