The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1906-11-01
CHAPTER XIII.


spot we greatly favored.
CHAPTER XIII.
1t was about four o'clock on 4 Satur
day afternoon, the fifth day of our visit
that Miss Weston and l entered it from
the seward side. We had taken a SHARP
walk to the Bredairs Strand, where the
famous caves are situated, and were re
turning TO tea. We came upon them al
an angle of the thicket-a man and q
woman seated on a fallen log in eager
conversation. Miss Weston held up q
warning hand to me, with amusement
twinkling in her eyes.
''Oh, Mr.. Harlandw she whispered
''and at her age, too!
why, who was it?' I asked, for their
backs were turned towards us.
Don't you see? 1t is Martha, oui
housekeeper. She is FIVE and forty il
she is a day. Fancy Martha with young
man of her own. / wonder who it can
be?'
Whereupon she fairly gave way to her
merriment in a low ripple of laughter
1t was loud enough to reach the ears OF
the pair before Us, for they started to
their feet, the woman facing round bold.
ly with flaming cheeks, while the man.
after one swift glance, dropped back q
step and stood shamefacedly. with down
cast eyes. Miss Weston nodded to
Martha and we passed on up the track
"Ohi / am very, very Sorry she
cried to me when we were out of ear
shot. II am certain that wretched man
Is only after her savings. What a silly
old dear she is.'
He seemed about the average in bash.
full rustics,,' 1 answered her.
HE is one of the worst men in the
village "a drunl1 loafer, who never
leaves the inn bar until he is almost
starving. wonder at Martha, for. be-
sides his reputation, she knows"
"WhatY' asked, for she had stopped
with a little shiver.
They say in the village that Penru-
man-for that is his name-acted as a
sort of servant to Professor Marnac
Will, ne was at Po,leven. At least I
know that Penruman brought US mes.
sages from him twic. and once he came
with book that had been lent to fatn-
err
"Was Pen-uman counting Martha
thenY
Il don't know, Mr.. Harland; but thi.
is the first time I've seen them together.
Please don't say anything more about ii
l will have a talk to Martha privately.
and see if / can put some sense into
her silly head.
As | was walking back to the inn be
fore dinner l caught sight of Penruman
coming out of the village postoffice. Hs
slouched away up side street at sight
of me- You may think me duh. but
had no suspicion of the truth.
If l had only known.
We all travelled TO London together
taking rooms for the night at the Char
ing Cross Hotel; for though Graden hao
chambers in the Albany, he preferred
that we should not be separated. 1t was
here that Reski joined us. Sorrow had
burnt its mark upon the Polish inn.
keeper. His thin, handsome features
were yet more drawn: and though his
courtly manner was unchanged, an alien
ferocity lurked in his dark, reflective
eyes. 1t would not go well with the
murderer of his only son if he should
meet him face to face. So / thought a.
he stood before US, his hat raised, bowir:
US a welcome.
At nine-forty on the following morn
ing, we were gathered in a little group
on the departure platform. Graden, who
had talked with Reski far into the night
repeated his orders. To preserve the
secret of DIR. Weston's residence was o!
first importance. He would register him.
self and his daughter in the name Of
Jackson. All letters, whether from or
to the travellers, were to be forwarded
under cover to Graden's chambers, where
a servant in whom he had absolute trust
would despatch them to their respective
addresses. On the slightest suspicion OF
danger, a telegram would bring our as
sistance from whatever spot our quest
had drawn US. Neither DIR. Weston nor
his daughter were to leave their hotel
at Prontresina, even for walk, without
the escort of the Pole.
II d. not wish to alarm you with alb
surd lies, Miss Mary" concluded my
cous but 1t Is well to be cautious.
Besiu s, it should be only for few days.
| have found means Of awakening the
continental police TO interest in his cap
ture, and we may hear of his arrest at
any moment. All! there goes the whistle.
Goodbye, DIR. Weston Goodbye, my
dear girl. God keep you"
He was old enough to be her father;
vet 1 did not consider his age was sufii-
Gent excuse for the kiss that he touched
on her forehead.
We sew her handkerchief futtering
from the carriage window as the train
drew out of the station. l watched it
fade into the muddy grey of the morn
ing: and as it disappeared, the love
had hidden from myself rushed over me,
so that 1 stood with staring eyes, per-
haps as foolish and woe-begone a figure
as humanity has ever smiled to witness.
And for this / shall always thank my
cousin, Harry Graden, that he slipped his
arm in nine. leading me down the plat
form as if he had noticed nothing out Of
the ordinary in my manner.
(To be continued.)