Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1897-09-11

He cursed her. Have done with THAR"
he said fiercely. And say what is to be
"Dcne?" she answered briskly and in a
tone Of genuine surprise. why, that which
was to be done. What difference does this
| maker
But he looked at her, pondering darkIy, as
| X 1t did make a difference. 1 suppose that
| somewhere. deep down in his nature. there
In this singular coincidence, this sudden
stringtng together Of persons long parted,
an evil omen. Or it may be that he had
still some scrap Of conscience left, that,
| scared and deadened as 1t was stirred and
smarted at this strange upheaval of an old
crime. At any rate 1T dor't know" he
growied at last Il don't like it, and that
There is fool in it, she answered
nsively. And there are like to be two"
| l thought to back him up. and 1 braced
| myself against the wall to which had re-
will call for help in the streets frst."
| You will do as you are told,'' she an
| swered coolly. And you she continued to
Smith. In voice of singing scorn. ARE
you going to give it up now, when all is
| safe? VIII you stand to my lord as this
| poor. silly fellow stands to you? Have you
| Saited Tor years for your revenge-to move
worth ten Of you. He is a man at any
| tate. He is
Peace. girl" he cried, with I know not
| what Of menace in his tone.
Then will you go?'
Yes. 1 will go!' he answered between
his teeth. But, by heaven, you slut If i'll
| come of it, I will wiring your neck! I will.
SO help me heaven! You shall deceive no
| other man! II there is practice of yours
| in this. II this tool is here by your con-
nivance-'
He is notr she answered. BE salts
| fed
Apparently he was satisfied. for he drew
deep breath and stood silent. She turned
to me. Get ready" she said. sharply.
NO. l muttered. summoning all my res
olution: Il shall not go. II have not
Smith turned to me and the refusal died
| on my lips. The struggle with the woman
had reused the mans passions; and I read
| In his eyes such a glare of ferocity as
chilled my blood and unstrung my knees
Nor was that all, for when 1 went, trem-
bling, to take the cloak, "One moment" he
said. grimly. mot so fast, my friend. Let
Mr.. Price or Mr.. Taylor, or whatever your
name Is, take note, do you hear me, of
three things. One, that the business we
are on is life or death. Do you grasp that?'
l muttered a shuddering assent.
Secondly" he continued with the same
gruesome civility. MY hand will never be
| more than six inches from the butt of a
pistol. until see this home again. Do you
grasp that?''
/ nodded
Thirdly, at the least sign Of treachery
or disobedience on your part. I blow out
your brains-first; my own afterward, If
that be necessary. Do You grasp THAR,
I nodded. That is especially well" he
said. Because the last item is important
to you. On the other hand. Mr.. Price, play
honest John. with me, and in forty-eight
hours YOU shall be back In your masters
house. free and safe; and 1 shall trouble
you no more. Do you understand thatg'
said did: my teeth chattering and nv
eyes seeking to evade his.
Then, now, you may get into those
things" he said. And do you ride when
bid you. and halt when 1 bid you, and
speak when say speak, and be silent when
say be silent-do those four things, 1 say,
and you will die in your bed. They are all
I ask
I stopped. shaking all over. to take up
woman. with an odd laugh that broke off
short with a sort of quaver. TT is clear
that you are not born to be hanged. And
for the rest
patiently. And dress him.
Chapter XXxvI.
1t wanted two hours of midnight on
fine night when we two rode over London
bridge and through a gap in the houses
saw the river flowing below a ripple of
silver framed in blackness, and SO cold to
the eye that involuntarily shivered. feel
ing a return Of all the vague fears and
apprehensions. which, originally awakened
by the prospect of the Journey had been
set at rest for the time by the awe in which
Hctu my COulpdulOH L DeSdn 10 recall a
dozen stories Of footpads and highwaymen,
outrage and robbery, which I had read,
and found but cold comfort in the refiec-
ton that the Kent road, from the amount
OF traffic that used 1t, was accounted one
of the safest in England. 1t was not won
derful that. with nerves SO disordered, 1
went In front Of danger, or that when
opposite the Marshalsea where the chain
crosses the road near the entrance to White
Horse yard-a man came suddenly out of a
passage and caught hold of my COM
panion's rein. I cried out, and all but
turned my horse to fly.
Smith himself appeared to be taken of
his guard; and, after bidding me beware
what did, he called, with the same harsh
ness, to the man to release the rein. or
take the consequences.
"Oh. am all right" the fellow answered.
roughly. peering at him through the dark
ness You are Mr. SMITH"
'.Fairholt sent me-to stop you''
"Fairholt!'
LAY; he is here
"Here?" my companion cried. in a tone
Of rage and surprise. What the! Why
timer
AYE. but his horse threw him this morn
ing, and he is lying at the White Horse
here, with a broken Leg
Smith cursed the absent man for a fool
Il wish he had broken his neckr' he said.
savagely. And then, after an interval:
Has he sent anybody?'
HE has had something else to think
about" tie man answered. dryly. And SO
would you, master, with his leg!'
Smith swore again, and sat gloomily ST.
lent.
He says If you can stead it of for
twenty-four hours" the man continued.
"he will arrange that"
NO names!' Smith cried. sharply inter-
rupting him.
well. that-some one shall take his place
and do the job
Smith did not answer for a time, but at
length, in a curt, fncisive tone: Tell him
yes" he said. 81 will see to it. And you
keep still tongue. will you? You were
going with him, 1 suppose?"
"Aye"
And you will come with the other?"
Maybe. And II not. shall not blab"
Smith, by a nod. showed that the man
had taken his meaning, after which, bid
ding him good night, he pricked up his
horse. Come on" he said, addressing me
with Impotence. 81 thought to have had
companions, and so ridden more securely
But we must make the best of it."
Heaven knows that !, too, would have
liked companions, and took the road again,
dolefully enough. Nor was that the worst
of it; Smith, in speaking to the stranger,
had mentioned Fairholt Now. knew the
name, and knew the man to be one of the