The Caucasian. (Clinton, N.C.) 188?-1913, 1893-11-16
CHAPTER XIV


by comparison with electricity steam
is q slow plodding beast can head
him Off, after consultation with law
yer, my dear"
She said it aloud, as II she would re-
assure the unresting spirit that was
forever Roading her 10 fresh endeavOr
In the direction of solving the Norcros.
mystery.
II ever she felt tempted 10 give over
the hopeless task Of unearthing her sis
ter's slayer there would come back n
her, with reprCaah in its shadowy eyes,
vision Of Amelia, not as she had seen
her in the Norcross mansion, ablaze
with jewels and flashing in yellow
satin, but Amelia In her peculiarly he p
less, clinging childhood; Amelia in her
pure, happy girlhOod; Amelia IN her
winning, unsullied, budding woman
hood; the Amelia whom she had loved
and protected before that rash marriage
with Sibley Fairbanks, which had been
dissolved, as rashly, at the close Of
three years.
OF that Amelia, and of none other,
would she permit herself TO think 1t
was that Amelia who was still appeal
ing to her for help. She raised her
arms despairingly.
In all this wide world, full Of clear
heads, strong arms and tender hearts,
there was none to care, not one to
help her throw the light Of truth upon
that dark, dark spot in her memory.
Perhaps it had been reserved for Dick
to help her. Perhaps the clcw had been
put into his hands for her guidance.
No one could have had any motive
for that dastardly deed but Sibley Fair
banks Amelia-the beautiful, wilIful
Amelia-had not made him good wife
She had heard only Mellies partial
statement; but it bad been enough.
Sibley Fairbanks had the motive Of
Jealous revenge to steel his arm; and
there was the witness of the seal Of the
Fairbanks family.
IL will do it, my dear will follow
this clew to its bitter end. Perhaps then
you will rest, AID so will T."
Yes, steam is a slow plodding beast,
especially when every nerve in ones
body Is aquiver with impatience.
Sibley Fairbanks, steaming slowly up
the river In answer TO Ida's telegram,
was in just such feverish state of I'M
rest. until, eagerly running across the
clumsy staging that was flung out for
his convenience at his own landing, he
saw two carriages waiting under the
spreading sycamore trees. One was 4
hackney coach occupied by two white
men.
Old Cato stood bareheaded by the
horses Of the other His withered
black face had beamed a homeiy well
como to "his boy Sibley' long before the
gangway had been adjusted. Sibley
had waved his hat cordially in return.
1t was towards Cato's vehicle that he
was hurrying, when sober face and a
massive form were interposed between
It and him:
Il am sorry, Mr.. Fairbanks, but-you s
arc my prisoner"
He recoiled step and looked the man I
in the face.
your prisoner" c
The man extended a folded piece OF I
paper. He declined touching it.
"Who are you?''
Martin Hastings, sheriff of Dalton" q
But are you not making a mistake, S
Mr.. Sheriff. L
mot unless the mistake lies in think /
ng that you are the Sibley Fairbanks y
herein described"
Again he offered the warrant for o
'erussl This time Sibley took it and a
cad 1t, standing there under the old l;
ycamore trees that stretched their il
marty branches protectingly over him, s
With Cato watching the whole strange d
Gene in throbbing anxiety
FAIRBANKS grew CHASTITY white as he r
cad The paper trembled in his grasn G.