The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1897-08-11

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blue spectacles?"
HE as calls himself George Graves?"
Eyes"
HE was arrested last night"
"And is now in jail?'
Exactly. I had it done quietly. He
never resisted. / didn't tell the officers
who he was"
Good" cried Dacre, that just suits
nv plans, I wish to have a talk with him
before we send him back to the peni-
Tertiary"
0By the way. I have found out some
thing more about him that may interest
YOU" spoke the landlord, with q covert
grin.
What is that?"
Yesterday he sent a little fellow from
here with a letter."
"a letter." repeated Dacre interest
eddy.
Eyes, the boy delivered it. 1t was at
q lonely hut down R~idge6eld way"
Arnold Dacre's eyes flashed eagerly.
"He brought back an answer. When
It came. you see, we couldn't deliver it"
why not?"
"Ha! ha! our specialized gentleman
was in jail, see?"
Then you still have the letterP'
Yes"
"Where is it?"
"Here."
The landlord handed yer a missive.
1t was addressed to "Mr. George Graves,
Deepford." Evidently, Ray Webster had
written to Mrs. Alden at the lonely cot
tage concerning Flora Merwyn, and de-
tailed his plans, and asked her advice.
Without ceremony or conjunction,
Arnold Dacre opened the sealed en-
velope.
Eagerly he scanned tho enclosure.
1t read:
''Flora is perfectly we'll. I was compelled to
sell her all. She has implicit confidence in
your plans, but begs you TO be careful and
wary Of the man you are tracipg-a shre"o'
n~eartless villain"
''Thanksr' muttered Arnold Dacre,
with a grim, bitter smile. THAT means
me? Now them" to the landlord, can
you tell me where this lonely hut is?"
yes" and a brief direction followed.
Arnold Dacre reflected for a few mo.
ments. Quick thoughts came to his
ready mind.
He had located Flora, she was in
charge of a Mrs. Alden, unprotected,
alone, except for her guardianship.
Like a general ~marshaling his forces
before a battle. the cashier arranged the
various complications in the case in
nand. He held the advantage in every
way. He had the fortune, could he, ey
subtlety, force or fraud, win the girl?
Evidently, a clear. bold, plan was
suggested to his mind, and he acted upon
it. He looked up at the foX-eyed
boniface.
"Do you want to make a hundred dol.
lars?" he asked.
ME? | should say SOL"
Every well. Didn't you tell me yes.
terday that you were a justice OF the
peace?"
II was, once. Yes"
Not now?"
"No."
Dacre's. brow clouded. Then he con-
tinued:
ut don't matter-vou were authorized
to perform marriage ceremonies"
"Certainly."
"You could strain a point, and per-
form one now. couldn't you?"
But it wouldn't be legal"
"How is an ignorant person to know
that? Once a justice, always a Justice,
ha, hal" and Dacre slapped the hesitat-
ing boniface tamiliarlv on the shoulder.
Come, it's cash! Saddle two horses"
"All right. l reckon you wouldn't
lead me into any trouble"
"Not a bit Of it."
An hour later, both men drove from
the tavern in the direction of Ridge
field.
well, where now" queried the land
lord.
ITO the place where the boy took the
letter." answered Dacre.
Mrs. Alden's hur?"
YES"
VERY well, only"
'.Wcll?"
Don't you want to see the prisoner in
the town iail?"
"Oh! that will keep, until 1 return"
They proceeded down the traverSed
highway. At a point several miles
ahead, they diverged. The way was
~tortuous and difficult. Dusk was falling
as the landlord halted finally.
There you are," he announced.
"What? Mrs. Alden's c~ottage?"'
Eyes"
IL don't see it."
THAT light straight ahead
"Oh, yes! Now, you wait here, will
you?"
Certainly, I'm under you orders"
Arnold Dacre dismounted, and made
his way through the tangled underbrdsh
towards a distant point of light.
He advanced more cautiously as he
came upon the vioe-embowered cottage
whittier Ray Webster had conveyed the
bankers prosecuted daughter a few days
previous.
It's door stood open, and q lamp with
in illumined the living room of the hum
BILE hut
Peering past the threshold, Arnold
Dacre's heart beat wildly. Yes, he had
not come in vain-he had not plotted for
empty results.
A fair girl sat at a table shading her
eyes with her hand, and reading.
Her face was pale, the expression sad,
stricken, but resigned.
She was alone, and In his lmpetuous
triumph, the plotter never needed the
sounds Of low conversation emanating
from an adjoining room With glowing
eyes and arms extended, triumph in his
sinister face, victory in his plotting
heart, Arnold Dacre sprang into the