The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1906-02-03

the arrival Of the train they went off
together to the inquiry office to find out
means to reach the obscure town Of Villa
Silentio.
The station master, half asleep, and
wholly angry at being routed out Of bed
at such an early hour in the morning, at
first denied all knowledge of place of
that name; but, when the guard re-
minded him that such things as reference
books of the railway routes were issued
for his especial enlightenment, his man
ner changed, and he proceeded to do his
best on Mr.. Mallett's behalf.
1T Is here, you see," he said In Span
ish, putting his fat finger on spot in
the map. "Senor cannot leave Madrid
until half past nine; he will then have
two hours railway ride, and then an
hour and half by coach over not the
very best of roads,
Mr.. Mallett looked at his watch. It
was quarter to six; he would have time
for three hours rest. Thanking the
friendly guard for his good services, he
tossed his small bag and rug on the near
est hack-carriage and drove off to a
hotel.
At one o'clock Mr.. Mallett, feeling as
II his sense had been shaken out of him
By the last hour over that never-t o-be-
forgotten road, found himself standing in
the market place of Villa Silentio, with
the hot midday sun beating down on
him, feeling more completely alone and
helpless than he ever remembered to have
felt before.
Il am afraid I made a mistake in COM
Ing myself" he said to the market clock.
as he stood in front Of it. "You see a
man Of fifty7seven is not SO quick and
apt In adapting himself to circumstances
as younger man would be-"
For two or three minutes Mallett stood
listening to the distant rumbling of the
coach wheels, and, great as had been his
suffering during the drive, he almost
wished himself back again on the awful
machine, instead of here in this death
like place.
He shook off the dreamy feeling of un-
reality that possessed him, and crossed
to a deserted looking house on the shady
side of the square, where a sign board
from which all vestige of paint had long
since passed away hung over the door,
seeming to denote a house of entertain
ment.
He pushed open the door and it swung
in large stone-hagged room which oc-
cupied the whole depth of the house, the
opposite end opening on to crazy veran-
da crumbling under the weight of luxuri-
ant creepers, through which there were
glimpses of a weed-grown Enclosure be-
yond. He stamped up and down the
stone floor, and shouted until the stones
echoed his voice. At the end Of ten
m 60 a.
turbulent masses of frizzy black hair,
leaned over the hand rail of the stairs
that led up to the next floor. In about
five minutes the sallow face and frizzy
hair reappeared, and the woman began
to apologize profusely.
Mr.. Mallett stood politely silent, hat in
hand, until she seemed to have ended her
speech, when he presented the envelope
given him by Babette, with the name
and address of the photographer of the
gravestone.
The talkative lady took it over to the
light and spelled it out laboriously, and
then turned again to Mr.. Mallett, and
ratified off another little incomprehensi-
BILE speech, interspersed with numberless
CALCULATIONS of establishment. Seeing at
last that he did not understand a word
Of what she was saying, she pointed to
the address in her hand, and said slowly
in Spanish:
"My father"
Mr.. Mallett understood that, for point
ing In his turn to the envelope, he asked:
"WhereT'
She smiled pleasantly, motioned to him
to reseat himself, and went upstairs look
ing once or twice over her shoulder to
nod and smile at him reassuringly. Could
it be that the man he was In search of
was here in this house2 He could hear
an animated conversation going on some
where in the rooms above, and he recog-
nized the voice of the woman and the
tones of man.
Presently there came to him an elderly
Spaniard, with something of the dandy
still clinging to him in the shape of
waxed mustaches and perfumed hair.
Still, the signs of decay that abounded
throughout the place showed themselves
even here In the ancient fop's frayed
jacket and well-worn shoes. To Mr..
Mallett's surprise and relief he at once
opened the conversation in passable
French.
Monsieur wishes to see me? He has
evidently come long way for that pur-
pose. am charmed, hattered and abash-
ed all at one time-charmed and fat
tered to receive any one who comes a
distance to pay homage to art"
He put his hand ON his heart and bow
ed with the air of a prince. His belief
that Mr.. Mallett had come to visit and
compliment art in his person was SO evil
IDENTIFY genuine that the sensitive gentle
man felt almost unhappy to have to un-
deceive him; but time was pressing. He
had none for the observance of unneces-
sary politeness. He took the little photo
graph from his pocketbook and held ii
toward CASTELAR,.
Il believe you took that picture. Now,
l want you to tell me where the grave
of which this is a picture is to be found,
how you came to take the photograph
whom you took 1t for, and any other cir,
cumstances you can remember in connec-
ton with It,"
The Spaniard leaned forward with his
hands on his knees to look at the pho.
tograph, but he did not attempt to touch
it. He stared at 1t earnestly while Mr.
Mallett was speaking. and, when he had