The Mitchell capital. (Mitchell, Dakota [S.D.]) 1879-1918, 1904-06-03

thought there sat the master. dead:
dead. and l don knew his story. How
wildly the old mans SORROW cane
back; now it oppressed me.
! beat down in tender sympathy to
took again upon his wasted features,
and kneelins. gaZed into his wide
open eyes. The calm of promised peace
upon his brow was distorted by the un-
satisfied expression of one who has left
his work undone.
SO are the sins of the fathers visited
upon their children, for / was no longer
m doubt but that the murderer. Pedro
ortez, was the SHINING ancestor of my
oid-time friend. Even III his presence
my thoughts flew to Agnes; had she not
spoken of her grandsire as being such
Il man: The s%tiffening body at my side
was speedily forgotten in the music of
this meditation.
l gained my feet again and looked
down upon him, fascinated by the
cnangeless %eatures of the dead. 1t
was probably natural that standing
there l should revolve the whole mat
ter over and over again, from the first
knew of it until the last. a young
mans plans, though, work ever with
the living; the dead he places in their
tomb, covers them With earth. bids
them "Godspeed." and banishes The
recollection. l was already busy with
my contemplated search for the last
d'Artin, and stood there leaning against
the baker table por6ering over the
question, Where is the last d'Artin?"
My mine wandered. returning with a
dogsed persistence to that one thought,
Where is the last d'Artin?" Where
could / find him My restless eve
roamed round the cherries room. COM
inS back 10 rest upon q long dust-cov-
cred mirror set in the wall across the
wy.
group themselves in fantastic shapes.
50, deep in that mirrors shadowy
depths, a vague figure gradually took
form and clarActer-myself.
With he vacant glance of a man
whose mind is intensely preoccupied. L
studied %n:inutely the reflection. my WI
bearing my dress, my weapons. / ever
dlmN to remember where had lost 1t.
untll-great God-this chamber of
death and revelation had turned my
brain.
What face "a that saw? My own,
assuredly, but SO like another.
Ashast, powerless to move or cry out,
| stared helplessly into the glass,
before this newborn terror which held
my soul enslaved. I closed nv ewes. I
dared not look.
My body seemed immovable with
horror, but q trmebling had arose and
pointed at the mirror. Scant need there
a to call attention to that dim, ter
ribile presence; my whole soul shrank
from the ghostly face reflected In the
glass. For there, there was the same
pall1d countenance, death-distorted
and drawn, which I had conjured up in
many a frightened dream as that of the
murdered count-there was Henri
d'Artin.
o long I stood transfixed, point
ing into the mirror. I know not. AS
men think of trif1es even in times of
deadly fear. SO did my lips frane over
and over again the last question I had
IN mind before all sense forsook me.
Where is h last d'Artin? Where is
the last d'Artin? Where"
And in answer to my question, that
.ong, rigid finger pointed directly at me
from out the dusty glass. 1t was as if
the hand of the dead had told me who I
was.
1t had been no blind chance, then,
which led me to the Paris house of the
Black VOLTS Head the girls ring
with the same device, and the grew
some narrative beneath the shadow Of
the Wolf at the Norman r~uin-nothing
less than fate had brought these lights
to me.
Verify some more logical power than
unreasoning accident must direct the
steps OF men. A God of Justice per-
haps had placed these tokens in my
path. And soldiers call this For
tune"
I dispatched Pachaco to Biloxi with
the news OF death, n long before tho
afternoon our few simple arrangements
for his funeral had been made.
Bury me here, Placide, beneath this
great oak" he had said to me one day.
The Infinite Mercy will consecrate the
grave of penttence. wherever it may
be-"
He had his wish.
CHAPTER XIII.
A NOTE WHICH WENT ASTRAY,
Meanwhile Jacques had undertaken
to manage my little affair at Biloxi
with tact and discretion. And this ia
how the fellow did it:
1t seems that jacques thought no
harm of the note, and when he took it
first to the house my lady was out.
The honest fellow, doing his best to
carry out IN instructions, refused to
leave it. When he returned, my lady
worked, bent down amongst her flow
ers. in the little garden beside her cot
tage. The Chevalier stood some dis
tance off, busted someSvay. JACQUES
turned away from my messengers as
he cams up. Jacques handed the note
TO my lady through the fence, and she
took it gently by the corner. fearing to
soil it. She held it up to look at the
name written upon it, and seeing it
was her own, looked again more Curl
ously at the writing. She did not know
the hand. Then she gaily called to the
Cheyalier:
Continued Next Week.)