The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1893-12-30

it. | could not indeed swear that the
shadow l had seen was that of my father,
as | had not looked at him through the
window.
All that I could say was that it was his
custom about that time every night tc
walk the terrace, and that therefore prob
ably he had walked it the night he disap-
peared, and his shadow it probably had
been that had seen flung on the drawing
room floor.
Days, weeks passed, and not n trace of
my father was found. had not the small
est doubt as to what had become of him,
nor had my brother nor any of the neigh
borhood. The bandit had murdered him
and made away with his body for the sake
Of the diamond.
OF course we took action the moment we
were sure he had absolutely vanished The
police watched the bandit, they searched
his house, where they did find some arti-
cles that had belonged to my father, but
which the ex-butler protested he had pur-
Joined while in CUR service. There was a
handkerchief that had my fathers initials,
tie to which could swear and breast
pin, but could not be sure that he had
worn these when he disappeared.
My father did not dress for dinner when
we were alone, so that he may have worn
the tie and breastpin on the last occasion
we dined together. 1 cannot say. 1 had
not noticed what he then wore.
Nothing further tc compromise the man
was discovered but that was not wonder
ful--four days elapsed since the disappear
ance Of my father before the police search
ed the bandits lodgings-time enough fer
him to make away with the diamond.
What he had done with my fathers body,
where he had secreted it, we could never
find.
We could not imagine how he had lured
my father away from the terrace and down
Il back lane, where we conjectured. the
murder had been committed. Not that we
found evidence there of a struggle, but
that it was the only place in the immedi-.
ate neighborhood where q murder could
have been committed.
had no moral doubt whatever that
the bandit had murdered my father and
had murdered him in the back lane men
ton; that he had made him insensible by
means of chloroform before dispatching,
and that my poor fathers body was secreted
somewhere near our villa.
Nevertheless it was not possible to bring
the murder home to the man, and when
he disappeared shortly after we were all
morally certain he had gone away to en-
joy the profits of the sale of the diamond
cut maybe into two or three, so as to rem
der it incapable Of Identification.
After awhile-eight months-I married
and went to India. My brother let the
house, as he was unmarried.
Five years later l returned from India
with o couple Of children, whom the eli
mate of India did not suit. AS the house
was then inlet, took it off my brother,
although associated with such painful rec
objections. The honorable greataunt came
to pay me visit and make the acquaint-
ance of her great-great-nephew and niece,
the latter of whom was called after her.
One moonlight evening after the chill
dren had been sent to bed we were sitting
together in the drawing room, when we
began to talk of my poor father.
st is rather odd when you come to think
of it" said the honorable greataunt, that
Jack may be said to have disappeared be-
fore -
s'How SO, aunt?"
"He was intended for the church, but
didn't fancy it. The living of Willowslop-
cum-Studge was family living and in
tended for him. We all wished it, but
when sent to Oxford he did not read and
was plowed at his examinations and then,
ashamed to be seen, dashed away to South
Africa, and there, as it happened, did
we'll"
AS we talked shadow passed before the
window No. 1. A second, and it passed
before the window No. g. Then a minute,
and in reversed order it passed No. 2, and
in another moment No. 1. II.
Our hearts stood still. was nigh on
fainting. A minute later, step-my ia
theirs step-in the hall. Another minute
he-not his shadow, he in the flesh-was
in the drawing room, and in his arms.
How came it ali about?
"My dear Ethel" said my father, 'tto
tell you the truth, I had had enough of
civilization Before I got too old I thought
I'd make another venture at free life in
the wilds. I've been cattle ranching, I've
been a cowboy-enjoyed myself famously
When Tom was getting on az the bar, you
about to be married and going to India, I
did not see that / had any particular call
to keep me in England. had grown dead
~ tired of suburban villa life, Of social
conventionalities, sick to disgust of Eng
fish politics. heard that society paper
was going to send an interviewer to draw
me out as the wealthy diamond man, and
SO the fit came on me to hook it.
II hooked it once before and told no one.
So hooked it again and told no one. I
was ashamed to tell the truth-that was
dead sick of civilization; that loathed it
to the toes. But was, so bolted.
81 sold my diamond in New York. By
the way, I've not made money this time
I've lost it. By the way also, I've had
chap put over me in the ranch that was
my butler here once. We called him the
bandit. He told me he'd been accused of
having murdered me, and the accusation
had hung on him and forced him to leave
old England. He is not bad chap. He
advanced me the money to come home and
sent his respects to you, Ethel, and asked
he to tell you that he did not rob and
murder me and conceal my corpse.
''Oh, papa, are you now home for good?"
'Yes, think so-but can't say. shall
have to hook it again some day, but that
will be into another world altogether -
5. Barring Gould in Scotsman.
Annie Laurie.
Pittsburg magazine, The Youths
Journal, has hunted up the history of An
-. II IL