Chicago eagle. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1889-19??, 1902-04-19
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20 WOMAN IN GRAY
" ROBERT ESTES DURAND.

that have ever seen 1t before. you
know. but I have been told. .And--hcrc Is
a little plan Of the house aud grounds
which may help me. I hope"
1t must now have been nearly q o'clock,
and. as the last day of October was APP
preaching, the twilight had already deep.
cncd almost to darkness. We could still
easily see our way before us-thc distant
river lying like sheet Of steel, the low
wooded hills In the far background-but
] thought II would be difficult to dcciphcr
any details set forth on the small, slight
~ ycllowcd bit of paper which the Wom-
an In Gray took from the bosom of her
dress.
Have you matches 2. she inquired SUD.
denly.
drew a silver box from my pocket and
struck u wax vcsta. The little circle Of
yellow light fell on the paper the girl
held. and over the delicate white hands
which graspcd its edges.
! could not keep my eyes from the left
hand. with the singular covering. II
was ungloved. In the conventional sense
Of the world. but set of thin gold rings,
fastened together by the slendcrest Of
chains. had been drawn over the four
fingers, and even the thumb. while across
the back Of the hand lay close netting
formed entirely of small pearls. This
was again attached ut the wrist to u
narrow, closely fitting bracelet OF plain
gold.
Never before had seen so peculiar an
ornament for a wOman's hand, and did
not now admire It, 1t was too bizarre.
too conspicuous. without being artistic.
AS ! stared at the thing she looked up
| suddenly, and ! thought that n quick
frOwn passed over her lovely face.
Were you looking at my map!" she
said lightly. And yet there was con-
ccaled anxiety in her tone.
"NO; /"
She folded ny the paper and thrust It
back into her dress.
There are some rather interesting fen.
lures In that little plan" she went on;
Extremely interesting to any member
Of the Amory samily--ats least, so l
should think. You had better put out
your match. I don't need 1t any longer,
thanks. and you will burn your fingers.
! believe that can find what want mt
last. We shall come to the Abbot
Walk presently
But thought you had never been
here before" caught her up quickly.
II did not say that. l told you had
never seen the grave am seeking. !
have been here--as child"
1.-The Abbot's Walk" I repeated reRec.
lively. Here It must have been, then,
or somewhere close by, that the muffin.
GUS monks pushed the poor old chap In
after the treasure that he had sunk In a
bag under the 'stagnant water. l heard
the story to-day. and how neither the
body nor the treasure was ever found.
l think. II I come here to live, I must
have look for them" And I laughed.
II wouldn't waste any time, IL l were
you," she said. III you are coming to
live here, you may be able to make much
better use Of It. IL the story that your
face tells be not another proof that ap-
pcarances are dccciving."
"What does my face tcll?" I asked.
THAT you are man who thinks. What
will You do for me II give you clewy'
"A clew to the use l am to make Of
my timer"
'Ah. l was right! You do think, and
quickly. Yes; that was what I meant.
I hold the end OF the skcin."
She was looking ut me through the
darkness. Her face and hair CLEANED
mO0nlike, her features scarcely distin-
guishable. save the great, mysterious
eyes, which glowed with the deep luster
Of jewels.
"Who are you?" I cried abruptly.
had not meant to ask the question, but II
came. In spite Of myself.
THAT does not signify" Her laugh
wtvslt at1 hut ka.
answered my question. What will you
give for clew?"
rs there something you would have
me do for you? II 30. I assure you II Is
unnecessary to offer me bribc."
II always like to give good value for
what l receive. l do want something
In particular OF you, though, It IL posi-
bic that l shall get II without your aid"
II don't understand you'll" l exclaimed.
"How odd 1t would be II you did!
don't always understand myself. The
favor ! want OF you Is to arrange that
l shall meet your uncle. Sir Wilfrid
AmOry."
A vague suspicion OF the woman he
gan to mingle with my unutterable be-
wildernent.
"YOu wish to meet my uncle. Why?"
"Thcre are 80 many reasons. Sir Will
frid IL man whom everybody wants
to know. Maybe l am vulgarly ambi-
tiOus, and have a desire to meet celeb
rites. Maybe 1t Is because he may come
to live In place in which I am--inter-
csted. Maybe write for the papers, and
am anxious to interview him. or all
these 'maybes,' l give you your choice"
III you would tell me your true rea-
son" l began; but she cut me short.
"a man of the world asks woman
for her reason! i want to meet Sir Will
| frid, because--I want to meet him.
have asked You a favor--a very simple
| one"
Her voice was as sweet as a sirens.
! promised that she should know my I'M
Gle. We had been progressing slowly
along the Abbot's Walk, but now she
stopped abruptly, and heard her draw
in a breath with a gasp that was almost
sob.
"Over there--is the grave she whis-
pered, pointing.
finger, ana l saw the pale CLEAN of a
| stone among the grass. Ii stood up, tall
| and straight, under tree--a lonely
thing, which spoke Of death and desola-
ton.
Come" she said.
Mechanically l followed, through the
sodden tangle of weeds, until she and l
stood together by the side of the mound.
"Will you strike two or three matches,
and let them burn in bunch?" she ask
! ed.
did SO, and the flame rose steadily,