Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1893-09-16

strosity, which emerged webbing upon its
worn springs. He opened the door with a
| skin rug. and flung 1t on the ground with a
| cry that startled everybody In the yard
and made the kitchen wench look up from
her SINK yonder by the scullery window.
blood! Mats all over blood, and bottom
| O. carriage, too"
The men clustered round Were those
dark stains that steeped and b,ackensd
the carpet and the sheepskin rug verify
blood? Yes. blood, Wet still some OF N
among the fieecy WOOL Wet enough 10
stain the coachman's hands hideously
IT'S as bad as IL somebody had been
killing a pig"
His nose must ha' bled." said the boy.
who was chronic sufferer in that line.
Noses don't bleed enough to rot a car
riage floor" said the coachman, grimly
looking round at the eager, awe-stricken
fatNS crowdng at the carriage door, open
mouths. scared eyes and speechless hor-
ror everywhere.
Who was IT had this carriage?"
There were inquiries, assertions, contra
dictions, and finally the head of the livery
yard arrived at these facts.
A gentleman had arrived in the station
bus late on Tuesday night the bus that
met the last down train a tall, cookbook
ing man, In long overcoat and a soft felt
hat that hid all the upper part of his face
He wanted fly to take him to the manor,
and the three respectable carriages being
all engaged the old Noah's Ark had been
dragged out of its penthouse. busted and
mG de ready for the stranger, who paid his
guinea in advance and who waited in
front of the inn while the horse was har-
messed, walking about and smoking a
cigar.
The man who took his order remembered
nothing more about him than this
The man who drove the fly was an out
slider, employed occasionally when there
was press of business at the George
an elderly man-of-all work. out of place
after the death of an old mistress in
whose service he had been gardener groom
and coachman-a man who, while profess
ing general hardness. did nothing WELL
and was. moreover, not without suspicion
of inebriety.
"Dorks drove. did hep" said the land
lord of the George. brought from his bar
parlor by the clamor in the yard. and OF
course DorkS was drunk"
No dissentient voice pleaded for Dorks.
Who could doubt that on an occasion of
general relaxation Dorks would have had
more than his proper share of alcohol?
One of the boys was sent to fetch Dorks
from the cottage where he lodged in inglo-
rious idleness, interrupted by odd jobs. He
came looking half asleep. and less than half
| washed. and this was the burden of his tale.
Yes, he had driven the stranger to Han
bury, and the stranger had gone in among
the rest of the visitors. Dorks had seen
the footmen taking off his coat in the hall.
1t was late and there were people coming
| away. and very few going in. He told
Dorks to wait for him. When Dorks sug-
gested that much waiting might be injurious
to the horse. the stranger used bad language
about that respectable animal. and repeated
that Dorks was to wait for him in the ave-
nue.. '.Tl send for you. or come to you
when 1 want YOU" said the stranger.
After this Dorks waited-it might be an
hour. II might be two, or. indeed, as evil
denced by the time of his return to the
George, it must have been at least three
hours-but the GOODNESS of the night air had
induced slumber. and Dorks confessed that
mind been blank he
startled by the stranger opening the door of
the landau.
He had just time to see that another gem
tleman got into the carriage before the
rightful fare, who told him to look sharp
and drive to Fairfield
You know your way there, 1 suppose? p"
said the stranger, and another voice came
from the inside Of the carriage directing
him.
Il told him 1 know'd the way before
either of them was born" said Dorks.
tween Ledford and the nearest market
town. To pass by Fairfield on the way
back to the George Inn would lengthen the
journey by about two miles.
The road from Hamburg Manor to Fair
field was as bad a road as could be found
in that part of Lincolnshire. 1t crossed one
of the dreariest bits of that dreary dis
trict-a broad ditch on one side, open and
unguarded, copse on the other, habita-
tions few and far between-a deep stream
and a wooden bridge to be crossed-a bridge
that was generally out Of order, and on
which many a horse and cart had come to
grief.
If it was dismal in broad daylight, what
of gloom and loneliness might not brood
over the long monotonous level in the dun
gray interlude betwiXt night and morning
when one ragged rip in the low eastern sky
adds to the sense OF dullness by that pallid
suggestion of a day that seems immeasur-
ably remote.
Dorks, not particularly sensitive Or i'm
pressionabie. shuddered as he recalled that
long cold drive.
He thought they were having high words
inside, but he couldn't hear much for there
were stones newly put down for half a
mile on the Hamburg side of the stream
and the carriage made too much noise for
him to hear what was going on inside 4,
once he fancied there was a bit Of A sc,,tfie
for the carriage jolted more than II need
have done, even over that rough bit IF -oad
He had no doubt both gentlemen had taken
a drop. and they were a little quarrelsom.:
but his business was to watch his hors,
and take care he didn't pull them all into
the ditch; that horse was a bad one Tor
bearing to the left, and wanted a deal of
driving.
"Driving," cried the landlord, losing
could tell --Why you don't know the mean
ing Of the word. You never drove horse in
your life. Well. go on. can't you. and tell
your story a little straighter than you drive
or we shan't hear the end Of 1t this side
dinner"
There was a laugh at this-a laugh that