Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1901-02-03


did not feel like one who is about to
die. II can guess how you got hold of
. certain name. At my request Mr..
Savernake gave me an old photograph
Ia chap in cowboys dress, with a
name written on the back. Perhaps
haven't been as careful about keeping
my desk locked as ought on such oc-
casions as my cousins have favored me
with visits. Tell me any particulars
beside the name if you can
The crafty face had fallen a little,
but its owner was no longer in con-
fidential mood. I'm tired of talk
now" he said, with an unsightly
yawn. Il want to get to business. Are
you going to writer"
For answer Jack followed both
hands over his mouth and set the
echoes flying with stentorian shout
for help. The dog broke into cry at
the sound and apparently forgetful of
his loyalty, turned tail and ran.
The man whipped out a revolver
"Try that again, and I'll put a bullet
in your brain" he said, harshly. Not
that anyone can hear. But I'm not
going to stand any nonsense. If you
won't write you're no good to us, and
might as well save myself the trouble
of waiting on you"
Jack bit his lip ard swept the land
you expect me to say" he observed,
laconically, that | regret OBTAINING
you. From your point of view, l dare
say l do seem to be long time dying
or making up my mind. But
wouldn't shoot just yet if were YOU"
Through the bank of murky clouds
in the west ran a vein of crimson,
just crack to show that the sun was
setting, red as blood.
In half an hour more it would have
sunk below the horizon. What would
be his plight by then? He seemed to
be sinking faster now that the bog
had got Arm hold upon him, and
could suck him down at will. He
could feel the pressure on his ribs,
and his limbs were heavy in their
shroud.
Somewhere within two miles dis
lance was Anne, busy over girish prep
arations for the marriage next month,
perhaps. In the last letter but one
that he had had she had described,
with some dainty touches of coquetry
a dress that she herself was making.
Poor, beautiful Anne!
She had said and proved that she
loved him, but there was no subtle in
stinct which warned her of his danger,
or babe her send help in this his hour
OF need. Even his dog had deserted
him and left him alone to go down
Gas his companion had facetiously
said) with the sum-.
For he had begun to think at last
that this might come to be the end of
it and Of him. He had no idea Of
writing the so-called confession" that
was required of him.
. Even if he did choose to play the cow
ard what good would If accomplish? The
paper once in the others hands the re-
suit would be the same. The enemy
representative would say good evening"
and stroll away, and bye and bye there
would come the bubble on the surface of
the bog and even the weeds and ropy
roots would hide. And the confession"
would be used, Lady Mary and Saver
make would be ruined, Palgrave would be
Duke of Leicester and he-would have
disappeared. AS for Anne-but at the
thought of her dizzines seized his steady
brain. That way madness lay.
The watcher by the bog-side had cooked
his revolver and kept it levelled. I'm
give you five minutes more to come to
the point" he said. i've got to be get
ting home tonight"
ITO be continued)