Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1905-06-18

A DAUGHTER OF THE REDS

with Raphael Decroix Both of them
understood that the critical hour had to
come. 1t was then close upon midnight,
and whatever work these hawks had to
do in Paris would begin at such an hour.
But they had no heart to speak of it,
and for full hour they sat, waiting and
watching for the dreadful moment.
When it came, the lads quick ear warned
him of the peril before Dolores had
thought of it. He sprang up in bed and
babe her listen with him.
There is Won Taunl' he exclaimed,
his eyes wild with terror. He will tell
them who / am Hank to that! There
is some one in the hall. Oh, my God,
mademoiselle, if it were Won Taun!"
They listened together, and heard a
low hum of voices; then the sound of a
door shutting softly, and of footstep
creeping up the stair Step by step it
mounted, came shutting along the land
ing, and passed them. The open door
for they had left it open purposely-re-
vealed the figure of bent old woman
dressed in rags, ostensibly cripple
This ghoul-like apparition disappeared
in the dim light, and silence fell again
upon that house of mystery. Raphael
Decroix sank back upon the bed with a
sigh, and closed his eyes as though in pain
Take the pistol from me to use when
they come!" he implored her pathetically.
do that which is wise, dear lady. Oh,
they are brutes, brutes, and l must die
by their hands! Is that Won Taun. do
you think? Yes, yesl hear his step!
Mademoiselle, kill me if Won Taun re-
turns! For Gods sake, do not let them
torture mel"
She promised him to do as he wished.
for 1t had become plain that he raved
in delirium. Her own situation dehed
all words in its power to terrify and to
suggest the ultimate torture of suspense.
The great lonely house, the dinly lighted
room, the whispering voices-all this in
the heart of her own beloved Parisl
This, and the conspiracy against the
city's honor, against her army and her
country-that these things should be
defed realization, and seemed to thrust
her down to the very nadir of shame.
One hope alone remained to her, hope in
a man who never had deserted her, in one
by whom she was beloved and to whom
her appeal had gone out. To this man
she had sent the message on the paper.
But would it reach him? Could he help
her if it diu3 How many times did she
ask these questions as she tried to calm
the lad S fears and to comfort him to sleep!
You wrote upon the paper, dear lady?''
he asked at one time
ITO the English doctor, Edmund Or
lopp. Yes, | sent the message to him.
But how did you send it,"
Monsieur Tavier the chemist is per-
fectly acquainted with my handwriting.
l told him in Latin words, written one by
one among the other directions, to fol-
low the messenger l think that it will
be enough. He will send to my house,
and find that have not returned; then
he will go to DR.. Orlopp."
Yes, he would do that, of course; but,
1lademoiselle, is it too late? Hush for
Gods sakei That is Won Taun speak
ing now!"
He sat up, defying restraint, and
pressed his hands to his eyes as though
to shut from his vision the pictures his
brain imagined. Undoubtedly some one
talked in loud tones in the hall below,
and ,1,,oY1 fbic x1oicac vya,-o ro,caJ -, fa,oa