The Brookings register. [volume] (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1903-1971, 1905-09-21


or foesf Is the prefetto's house in
danger?"
I threw aside my wig and beard to
assure her OF my identity.
THE villa is attacked by the Count
di Pordino," I said, who seeks to take
you away by force. But the warning
was brought In time, and the soldiers
of the prefetto are fighting of the
forces of the count"
Nita was now beside herself with
grief, passion and fear. STOPPING, she
picked up the knife that Dambo had
dropped.
II will do it, Signor Wilberton," she
said. II am no longer weak. l am a
woman, but l can fight. l have been
a circus performer, and can take my
W part. Let them come. I will kill
the p~refetto and l will kill the count.
Dut If they conquer me and I fail to
kill them, I will plunge this knife into
my own heart rather than become
the bride, the slave, Of the Count di
Pordino."
Her eyes flashed as she spoke, her
bosom rose and fell in an excess Of
emotion, and the delicate but muscu-
lar little fingers grasped the handle
OF the knife in a most determined way.
Now Dambo, who had been motion
less under the effects of the merciless
blow l had given him, began to crawl
dow, which was shaded with heavy
lace curtains, held in f~estoons by cord,
l tore the cord away, and selling the
Italian, bound him strongly and Sc
curely, and warning him not to make
any further attempt to escape, left
him in a heap on the floor.
The din in and around the villa vas
now something awful. Sounds of rife
shots, cries, shrieks, moan and curses
reached us through the doors and win
dows, and l rushed out on the balcony
to get a peep at the N Of war be-
low.
More lights had been brought. Ian.
The monastery bells were changing the
midnight alarm. The battle had be-
come a h~and-to-hand struggle, the
forces of the prefetto essaying not
only to defend the villa from attack,
but to drive the invaders from the
place, and the horde of cutthroats un-
der the Count di Pordino still hot in
the hunt for Nita Barlotti, and what
ever else Of plumber they could lay
their hands to.
Backward and forward the clashing
groups ran, shouting, shooting, stab.
bling, blinded by rage and passion, in.
famed by the blood already spilled, de-
not death themselves.
To my eye it seemed as If the
Count di Pordino's bandits were gain
ing. And if the military failed to
arrive from Cagliari, all would soon
be up with Nita Barlotti and me.
Apart from the other struggling
combatants, two stalwart men swayed
to and fro in a fight to the death.
One had worn a mask, and it had fall
en- off, disclosing the features of the
Count di Pordino. The other was
Maligni, the prefetto of Cagliari.
They were armed with knives, and
as they writhed and twisted in each
others grasp, the knives were
plunged first into one and then into
the other, until it seemed as if they
surely must drop dead from their
wounds.
Near these two struggling princi-
pals in the ARRAY stood Brother Mich
oa1 %h0 Io1,,;f orI Gu ci1anf onI GOLD
was he, amid the boiling and seething
of the caldron around him, hat his
calmness thrilled me as in another
some great deed of valor might do.
And Nita saw him, and watched the
silent figure a moment in wonder, so
distinct and apart from the entire
scene did he seem to be.
"Signor!" she whispered. See
that silent monk. Is he not grandly
calm amid all the horrors around
him! He is different from the others.
See how noble and still he is"
"Yes," l replied, in a whisper.
THAT is Brother Michael-a Jesuit.
He saved me from the soldiers and
prison guards when I ran away, and
he saved my life from a wound they
gave me. l have my suspicion that
Brother Michael is one whom the pre-
fetto thinks is doing servile penance
in the monastery. Perhaps you have
heard of Henry Thorlane. | think
that Brother Michael is none other
than he in the -"
Henry Thorlane!"
The cry rang out from Nita's lips
with a wildress that frightened me,
and caused the silent monk to look
toward us.
Henry Thorlane!" she cried again.
"No, no; it cannot be Henry Thor
lane. Henry Thorlane is dead! He
died when"
She reeled. Her hands went up to
her head. With a gasp and moan, she
sank into my arms and lost all con-
seriousness. I nurriedly carried her
into the room and placed her on the
bed. Water was handy, and I bathed
her face with it. When the fight
should be over, I would call for liquor