Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-09-08
CHAPTER I.

1t was late summer time, ana the perfume
of flowers stole into the darkened room
through the lf-opened window. The sun
light forced its way through chink In the
blind, and stretched across the floor In
strange zigzag fashion. From without came
the pleasant murmur Of bees and many Ia
zier insects floating over the gorgeous
flower beds. resting for while on the Gle
mats which had made the piazza a blaze of
purple splendor And inside, In nigh
backed chair there sat a man, his arms
folded his eyes fixed steadily upon vacancy.
AS he sat then, so had he sat for whole
day and whole night. The faint sweet
chorus of glad living things, which alone
broke the deep silence of the house, seemed
neither to disturb nor interest him. He sat
there like a man turned to stone, his fore
head riven by one deep line,-his straight,
firm mouth set close and hard. His serv-
ant the only living being who had ap-
preached him. had set food by his side.
which now and then he had mechanically
taken. Changeless as sphinx, he had sat
there in darkness and in light, whilst sun
light had changed to moonlight and the
songs of the birds had given place to the
low murmuring of frogs from a lake below
At last it seemed that his unnatural At
had passed away. He stretched out his
hand and struck a silver gonS which had
Doen lett Wltnln MS redcI <AiuoSI iAIihS
diately a man, pale-faced, with full dark
eyes and olive complexion, dressed In the
somber garb of an indoor servant, stood at
his elbow.
"Duson."
your grace!'
Bring wine-Burgundy."
It was before him, served with almost in
credible dispatch-a small cobWebbed bottle
and a gass Of quaint shape on which were
beautifully emblaZOned coronet and neur-
de-lis. He drank slowly and deliberately
When he set the glass down it was empty.
'Duson!'
''You will pack my things and your own.
We shall leave for New York this evening.
Telegraph to the Holland House for rooms"
For how many days, your grace?
1--WE shall not return here. Pay off all
the servants save two of the most trust
worthy. who will remain as caretakers."
The mans face was as immovable as his
masters.
And madame?"
Madame will not be returning. She will
have no further use for her maid. See.
however. that her clothes and all her per-
sonal belongings remain absolutely undis-
turbed."
HAS your grace any further orders?'
Take pencil and paper. Send this. cable
gram. Are you ready?"
The mans head moved in respectful as
ITO Felix.
mo. n, Rue de st. Pierre.
"A venue Qo L. opera, HdTlS
meet me at Sherry's Restaurant, New
York, one month today. II pm.-V. s."
ut shall be sent Immediately. your grace.
The train for New York leaves at 7:10. A
carriage will be here in one hour and five
minutes"
The man moved toward the door. His
master looked up.
"DuSon!'
1.-The Due de Souspennier remains here
or at the bottom of the lake-what matters!
1t is Mr.. Sabin who travels to New York,
and for whom you engage rooms at the
Holland House. Mr.. Sabin is cosmopoli-
tan of English proclivities."
Every good, siri''
Lock this door. Bring my coat and hat
five minutes before the carriage starts Let
them attempt to see me-"
The man bowed and disappeared. Left to
himself. Mr.. Sabin rose from his chair, and
pushing open the windows, stood upon the
veranda. He leaned heavily upon his stick
with both hands, holding it before him.
Slowly his eyes Travelled over the landscape.
1t was a very beautiful home which he
was leaving. Before him stretched the gar
dens-Italian in design. brilliant with flow
ers, with here and there a dark cedar-tree
dropping low upon the lawn. yew hedge
bordAred the rose-garden. a fountain was
playing In the middle of lake. A wooden
fence encircled the grounds. and beyond
was a smooth rolling park, with little belts
of pine plantations and a few larger trees
mere ana tneTe. In the 1dr distance the red
flag was waving on one of the putting
green's Archie Green was strolling up the
hillside, his pipe In his mouth and his
driver under his arm. Mr.. Sabin watched,
and the lines in his face grew deeper and
deeper
II am an old man." he said softly, "but I
will live to see them suffer who have done
this evil thing
He turned slowly back into the room, and
limping rather more than, was usual with
him, he pushed aside portiere and passed
into charmingly furnished country draw
ing ROOM Only the flowers hung dead in
their vases; everything else was fresh and
sweet and dainty. Slowly he threaded his
way among the elegant Louis Quinze furni-
ture, examining as though for the first time
the beautiful old tapestry, the Sevres china,
the Chippendale table, which was priceless,
the exquisite portraits painted by Greuze.
and the mysterious green twilight and gray
dawns of Corot. Everywhere treasures of
art yet everywhere the restraining hand of
the artist. The faint smell of dead rose
leaves hung about the room. Already one
seemed conscious of a certain emptiness,
as though the genius of the place had gone.
Mr.. Sabin leaned heavily upon his stick, and
his head dropped lower and lower.
A soft, respectful voice came to him from
the other room.
.sIn five minutes sir. the carriage will be
at the door. I have your coat and hat
here"
Mr. Sabin looked up.
Il am quite ready Duson." he said.
The servants in the hall stood respectfully
aside to let him pass. On the way to the
depot he saw nothing of those who saluted
him. In the car he sat with folded arms in
the most retired seat, looking steadfastly
out of the window at the dying day. There
were mountains away westward, touched
with golden light; sometimes for long min
utes together the train was rushing through
forests whose darkness was like that of
tunnel. Mr.. Sabin seemed Indifferent to
these changes. The coming Of night did not
disturb him. His brain was at work, and
the things which he saw were hidden from
other men. -
Duson, with murmur Of apology, broke
in upon his meditations.
"You will pardon me, sir, but the second
dinner is now being served. The restaurant
car will be detached at the next STOP"
What Of it?' Mr.. Sabin asked calmly.
IT have taken the liberty of ordering din
ner for you. sir 1t is thirty hours since you
ate anything save biscuits
Mr.. Sabin rose to his feet.
you are quite right, Duson," he said. 81
will dine"
In half an hour he was back again. Duson
placed before him silently a box of cigar
cites and matches. Mr.. Sabin smoked.
Soon the lights of the great city fiared in
the sky. the train stopped more frequently,
the express men and newspaper boys came
fo}n ayyidopco Mr. Sahtn oIo frop, bic