Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1895-04-13
The Haunted Chamber.
BY THE DUCHESS

ly, and separates the victim from the
worldl
Stealthily even now-his evil deed
accomplished-Arthur Dynecourt re-
treats down the stairs, and in
deed relaxes his speed until at length
he stands painting, but relentless, in the
servants corridor again.
Remorse he knows not. But a GER
tain sense of fear holds him ~irresolute,
making his limbs tremble and bringing
out cold dews upon his brow. His
rival is safely secured, out OF all
harms way rs far as he is concerned.
No human being saw him go to the ILL
fated tower; no human voice heard
him declare his intention of searching
1t for the missing trinket. He-Arthur
had been careful before parting from
him TO express his settled belief that
Sir Adrian would not go TO the haunt
ed chamber, and therefore he feels pre-
pared to defend his case successfully, |
even should the baronet be lucky
enough to find a deliverer.
Yet he Is not quite easy In his mind.
Fear Of discovery, fear of Sir Adrian's
d~ispleasure, fear of the world, fear of
the rope that already seems to dangle
in red lines before his eyes render him
the veriest coward that walks the
earth. Shall he return and release his
prisoner, andtreat the whole thing as a
joke, and so leave Adrian free to dis
pense his bounty at the castle, TO en-
tertain in his lavish fashion, TO secure
the m upon whom he-Arthur-
has set his heart for his bridep
No; a thousand times no! A few
short days, and all will belong to Ar
thur Dynecourt. He will be "Sir Ar
thur" then, and the bride he covets
will be unable to resist the temptation
of a title, and the chance Of being mis-
tress of the stately old pile that will
call him master. Let Sir Adrian die
then in his distant garnet alone, des-
pairing, un"discoverable! For who
would think of going to the haunted
room in search of him? Who will even
guess that any mission, however i'm
portant, would lead him to it, without
having mentioned it to some oneY 1t
a grewsome spot, seldom visited an
gladly forgotten: and, indeed, wha
possibly could there be in its bare wal
and its bl~oodstained floors TO attrad
any one? No; surely il is the last plad
to suspect any one would go to withol
a definite purpose; and what purpod
could Sir Adrian have of going there
So far Arthur feels himself safe. II
turns away, and joins the women an
the returned sporstmen i'll the ;ippe
drawing-roOm.
Where is Dynecourtp" asks somd
body later. Arthur, though he hear
the question, does not even chang
color, but calmly, with a steady hand
gives Florence her tea.
"Yes: where Is Sir Adrian?" ask
Mrs. Talbot, glancing up at the speaker
"He left us about an hour ago" Capt
Ringwood answers. "He said he'd pre-
fer walking home, and he shoveled hi
birds into our cart, and left us withor
another word. He'll turn up presently
no doubt"
Dear me, | hope nothing has hap
pened to him." says Ethel Villiers,
who is sitting in a window through
which the rays of the evening sun are
stealing, turning her auburn locks TO
threads OF rich red gold.
Il hope not, I'm sure" interposes
Arthur, quite feelingly. 1T does seem
odd he hasn't come i'll before this"
Then, true TO his determination to so
arrange matters that, if discovery N
sues upon his scheme, he may still find
for himself a path out of his difficulties,
he says quietly, Il met him about a
mile from home, and walked here with
him. We parted at the hall-door; l dare
say he is in the library or the stables"
Good gracious, why didn't you say
so beforey' exclaims ola Lady FitZAl-
mont in a q%uerulous tone" | quite be-
gan to believe the poor boy had blown
out his brains through disappointed
love, oil something equally objection
able"
Both Dora and Florence color warm
X at this The old Lady herself is free
having no designs upon him for Lady
Gertrude, that young lady being en-
gagged to a very distinguished and tit
led botanist, now hunting for ferns In
the West Indies.
Markham" says Mrs. Talbot to a
footman who enters at this moment,
go to the library and tell Sir Adrian
his tea is waiting for him."
"Yes, ma'am."
But presently Markham returns and
Sir Adrian Is not in the library.
Then try the stables, try every
where" says Dora somewhat impa-
tiently.
Markham, having tried everywhere,
brings back the same answer; Sir AID
rian Is apparently net to be foundl
Most extraordinary" remarks Lady
FitzAlment, tanning herself. "As a
rule / have noticed that Adrian is most
punctual. / do hope my first impress
sion was not the right one, and that We
shan't find him presently with his
throat cut and ~wallowing in his blood
on account of some silly young wo-
mani"
Dear mamma" in%terposes Lady
Gertrude, laughing, what a terrible
old-fashioned surmise! No man nova
days kills himself for a false love; he
only goes and gets another"
But, when the dinner-hour arrives,
and no host presents himself to lead
Lady FitzAlmont into dinner, a great
fear falls upon the guests save one, and
confusion and dismay, and anxious
conjecture reign supreme.
CHAPTER TX.
The night passes; the next day
dawns, deepens, grows into noon, and
still nothing happens to relieve the
terrible anxiety that is felt by all with
in the castle as to the fate Of its miss
ing master. They weary themselves
out wondering, idly but necessarily,
what can have become Of him.
The second day IN and goes, so
does the third and the fourth, the fifth
and the sixth, and then the seventh
dawns.
Florence Delmaine, who has been
haif-distracted with conflicting fears
and emotions, and who has been sit
ting In her room apart from the others.
with her head bent down and resting
on her hands, suddenly raising her
eyes, sees Dora standing before her.
The widow is looking haggard and
hellow-eyed. All her dainty freshness
has gone, and she now looks in years
what in reality she is, close on thirty
FIVE. Her lips are pale and dropping,
her cheeks colorless; her whole air is
suggestive of deep depression, the re-
suit of sleepless nights and days filled