The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1907-01-24
ggsSSHHss

/ DtAhdpo ny lilo lluiC luChblllCus IhlAAp
Chatter had but to think, for an in
slant, of the contents of his own peck
cts at that moment to realize the des-
perate position in which he stoCd.
He had the dead mans watch and
chain, his check book and other pa
pers; he had upon him, also, a large
number of bank notes, which he knew
must have been stolen, and part of
which he had paid away to cover up a
forgery which he was also supposed to
have committed. More than all, he
was venturing nov into the very heart
Of the enemy's country, in the hope to
stop a robbery with which he was also
connected, and at the house of the wo-
man he loved. 1t is small wonder that
he saw in all this a restless tide which
must sooner or later sweep him to de-
~struction.
Arriving at the small station for
which he had taken his ticket he
alighted with the two newspaper men,
and saw them get into a vehicle which
had evidently been, ordered for them.
Not wishing to ask any more Ques-
tions than were absolutely necessary,
he watched this carriage as it drove
away and followed the road it took.
CHANGING at the watch he carried, by
the light Of the last lamp he passed,
he saw that it was nearly eight o'clock,
and he had, so far as he could judge,
nearly eleven miles to go before reach
ing Bamberton. But his purpose was a
strong one, and the night was fine; he
set out to walk the distance, knowing
that he dared not ask for a lift from
any passing cart lest he should be
recognized.
At n or two points on his journey,
where signposts were too illegible to
be read, OF the night too dark to see
them clearly, he was compelled to
w~ait-fuming and impatient - until
such time al a ~slow-footed, slow-voiced
countryman should com in sight. AT
such times Philip Chatter pulled his
hat down as far as possible over his
face and kept in the shadow. But he
got through each interview safely un-
til within a mile or two of the village
when, taking a wrong turning, and los
ing his bearings h~opelessly, he was
obliged to wait again. In the hope of
some n passing him.
This time it was a woman, and she
civilly directed him-showing him a
short cut, which would bring him, she
said, within a short distance Of Chatter
Hall. He thanked her, and was turn
ing away, when she came rapidly near
er to him, and peered into his face;
struck at him; and ran off to some cot
tages where lights were cleaning,
screaming "Murder!"
He lost no time in getting away
from the spot, and ran as hard as he
could in the direction she had indi-
Gated. He had heard the deep boom
OF the church clock strike ten some
time before, and his m desperate fear
was that he might arrive too late to
prevent the robbery. At that thought
he redoubled his efforts, and did not
stop until he saw the huge bulk of
Chatter Hall. looming up against the
sky.
Hunted, wretched. f~orlorn, exhaust
ed, the unhappy man stood, for a few
moments, leaning against a tree, and
contemplating the place that was right
fully his. He was even in the mood
to curse the father who had banished
him, anG who was sleeping, peacefully
enough, In the churchyard near at
hand. He almost wished that his own
troubles were ended, and that he was
beyond the reach of pursuit.
ITS hard" he muttered, %savagely.
that I, who have new wronged any
living creature knowingly, should be
in this plight now. II l had had the
chance that was given to my brother
should / have used 1t better; or have
| merely kept out Of temptation be-
cause temptation kept out Of me?
Heaven knows! But while / stand here
cursing my fate those wretches those
wretches have got to work, I'll be
bound, and may clear away again be-
fore I reach the place. Now to remem.
Der the roads I traversed before. and
yet to keep out of sight Of all men.
and,"-he added. as ar after-thought-
"all women!"
With these words he crept round, as
near as he dared, to the front Of the
house, and struck on cautiously from
there in the direction Of the cottage.
Now 1t happened that night that
Madge B~arnshaw, being wholly occu-
pied with sad thoughts, and having no
friendly being in whom she could con-
fide, or to whom she felt disposed to
tell the tragis story which was by this
time In every mouth, had gone early
to her room. leaving Miss vint, her
distant cousin and guardian. nodding
over the fire. Arthur Barnshaw, who
had arrived from town only the day be-
fore, was in the he called his
"den," reading and smoking, and the
house was very quiet. Miss vint. be-
ing very comfortable. fell asleep.
When she awoke the fire had long
gone out and the room vas chilly. Miss
vint rose. s~hud6ering and yawning.
and, having extinguished the light.
went into the hall. took her candle. and
slowly and sleepily mounted the stairs
to her chamber.
---s-- -s-H-- -. A. -a-----