Republican news item. [volume] (Laport, Pa.) 1896-19??, 1899-09-07

Mr.. Blakely since he put you into
your carriage yesterday"
'That decides it," she xnuttered.
Something has happened to him in
his room. The door rust be forced.
Porter, 60 for carpenterr'
''You take the whole responsibility
of forcing the green-baize door?" ]
suggested.
''The whole responsibility" she re-
piled, and turned away impatiently.
When the carpenter arrived Mrs.
Blakely led him to the door and or
dered him to force it. He smiled
grimly, as he looked the door up and
down. He sounded it with mallet,
and his jaw fell.
''Iron! he said, laconically. "Tisn't
my job; you want blacksmith.
The porter was sent off in the car
riage to fetch smith. When the man
arrived, he eyed the door critically
AMI looked dubious.
"a long job!" he said.
Break it down thenI' cried Mrs.
Blakely. "But waste no time"
The smith barred his arms, and, or
dering Mrs. Blakely, the porter and
myself to give him space, picked up a
heavy hammer. He tapped the doc:
gently in various places until it rang
thinner than elsewhere. Then he
swung his hammer and struck the
door heavily, just in the exact spot,
again and again. For five minutes he
dealt rapid fire of blows, and then
the door began to tremb!e, then to
shake. Finally, after ten OF twelve
minutes, it gave shudder and came
forward, swinging on its hinges.
Mrs. Blakely darted forward and
stopped. Six feet farther down the
narrow passage another door OBJ
structed the way. She signed impet-
uously to the smith, who stepped for
ward and shivered the lock of the sec-
ond. door, which was only light wood.
All was darkness beyond The door.
I turned to Mrs. Blakely, who stood
gazing in wonderment into chaos.
Porter" she said, in hushed
voice, suddenly turning her ashy face
towards the light which crept down
the passage from the farther door,
'get me lantern. Then you car
both leave us. Mr.. Boyton's will be
all the help need"
When the porter returned she took
the lantern from him, and watched
him retreat down the passage into the
counting house.
"Prop the door so that it won't
fall, )" she said.
] did so, and, returning to her side,
took the lantern from her.
''You had better not come, madam, F"
said.
IT am coming" she replied, calmly.
We passed through the doorway and
into small, dark room, poorly fur
nished with little Office furniture and
Uttered with papers. There was no
sign of Mr.. Blakely. The one window
in the wall was high up; its glass was
fastened, and the blinds we're pulled.
"Look!" cried Mrs. Blakely. "Look!
A trap door!"
crossed to her, and glancing down
saw square had been cut out of the
carpet, in the centre of which was a
ring by which raised trap.
Looking through we saw ladder
leading down to darkness.
"Go on, sir; go on" said Mrs.
Blakely, in hollow voice. "We must
go on"
Going carefully down four rungs of
the ladder 1 held the lantern out at
arms length and surveyed the scene
A stone walled chamber stretched
before me like large vault. In one
wall was low, barred door; in cor
ner was n small furnace. A peculiar
looking machine stood in the middle
of the vault, and upon ledge of its
frame rested row of silver coins.
$50 on" said voice above me.
went down, and, stepping as l
thought to the ground, my foot en-
countered something soft. l sprang
aside, avoiding it, and saw the body
of Mr.. Blakely huddled up in broken
bundle.
Don't come; for PHYS sake don't
come!" l cried to Mrs. Blakely. But
already she was halfway down the
ladder. In another moment she lad
stepped upon her husbands body and
had shrieked.
"Ah, me; ah, mel" she moaned,
propping the nodding head upon her
knees with frenzied tenderness.
''Richard, husband! You did not
merely dream-you lived your crimes
that highland now! Oh, Mr.. Boyton,
do you understand all this? My hus-
band is fe!on! Deal. my heart is
deal. But he is we'll dead, better
dead This is his secret! Last night
the night before he was restless in
his sleep, he talked of coming, yes
of coining-coining silver coins and
reaping proft-proft. You're liar, ;
he cried once in his sleep, the coins
are good-equal to the Mint's. The
Mint makes profit on its silver coins,
and why not I?' He said that, and, as
I lay awake, 1 hoped he merely
dreaned-I knew he dreamed. But
noe I know the truth! Dead, dead!
Yes, yes, and if you lived these hands
should kill you for the ignominy and
shame! Richard, oh! Richard, Richardp