The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1895-08-12
PRIZE DETECTIVE STORIES. No. ~.

Duroc rode up to the posthouse and
asked to see the master. "Can you teil
me, - said he, whether man who Calls
himself Baron Straubenthal lives these
parts?''
The postmaster shook his head and we
rode upon our way
took no notice OF this, but when at
the next village my comrade repeated the
same question, with the same result
could not help asking him VINO this
Baron Straubenthal might be.
"He is n man, I" said Duroc, with
sudden flush upon his boyish face, Ito
whom l have very important message
10 convey. -
Well. this was not satisfactory, but
there was something in my companion ,
manner which told me that any iurtner
questioning would be dfstastetti TO hlIn'
I said nothing more, therefore, but Durcc
would still ask every peasant whom ne
met whether be could give any news Oh
the Baron Stra2 benthal.
For my own part was endeavoring, as
an officer OF light cavalry should, 10
form an idea of IT, lay OF the country,
TO note the course of the streams and 10
mark the places where there should be
fords. Every step was taking us further
from the camp round the iianks of which
we were travelling. Far TO the south
few plumes OF gray smoke IN the frosty
air marked the position OF some Oh our
outposts To the north, however, there
was nothing between ourselves and the
Russian winter quarters Twice on the
extreme horizon l caught glimpse OF
glitter OF steel, and pointed It out TO my
companion. IL was too distant LOT US
to tell whence II came, but we hhu llttle
doubt that il was from the lanceheads OF
maraudng Cossacks.
The sun was just setting when we rode
over a low hill and saw small village
upon our right and on our left consld-
erable castle which Tilted out from among
the pine woods.
A farmer with his cart was approaching
us--a matted haired, downcast fellow In
a sheepskin jacket.
"What village is this?r asked Duroc.
"It is Arensdorf, - he answered IN his
barbarous German dialect.
"Then here 1 am TO stay the night,
said my young companion. Then turning
to the farmer, ne asked his eternal ques-
ton: "Can you tell me where the Baron
Straubenthal lives?"
"h by, 1t is he who owns the Castle OF
Gloom said the farmer, pointing TO
the dark turrets over the distant fir
forest.
-pHHee-gape sAe#t- like the sportsman
who sees his game rising in front OF him.
The lad seemed TO have gone off his head,
his eyes shining, his face deathly white
and such n grim set about his mouth as
maze the IhrI1er SnTlnk uWdg ioui NM
j can see him now, leaning forward on
his brown horse with his eager gaze fixed
upon the great black tower.
"Why do you call II the Castle OF
Gloom?'' / asked.
"well, it is the name IT bears upon the
country side, said the farmer. by all
accounts, there have been some black
doings up yonder. It's not for nothing
that the wickedest man in Poland has
been living there these fourteen years
past. -
"Polish nobleman?v / asked.
"Nay, we breed no such men IN
Poland, he answered.
GA Frenchman, them" cried Duroc.
"They say that he came from France" I"
"And with red hair?''
GAS red as a fox.
ayes, yes, ii Is my man." cried my
companion, quivering all over in his ex-
element. "It IL the hand of Providence
which has led me here. Who can say that
there is not justice in this world. Come,
Monsieur Gerard, sfor must see the man
safely quartered before can attend to
this private matter" He spurred on his
horse, and ten minutes later we were at
the door of the inn at Arensdorf, where
his men were TO find their quarters for
the night.
Well, this was no affair of mine, and l
could not imagine what the meaning of il
might be. Rossel was still far off, but
determined to ride on for few hours,
and take my chane< of finding some way
side barn in wsich l could lind shelter
for Rataplan and myself | had mounted
my horse, therefore, after tossing off a
cup of wine, when young Duroc came
running out of the door and laid his hand
! upon my knee.