The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1908-02-08
CHAPTER XXII.-(Continued. }
y A u s t y n


is plain. If you will not spare us,
will be with him to the bitter end"
you cannot mend matters" persisted
the detective, ''by staying here. My men
surround the house. The Gordon Is com.
plete. For the last time l ask you, will
you leave this placer
And | answer you for the last time,
/ will not CO.
Nevertheless. l will do what l can
for you." said NJ. Lazare. 1T would be
something to you to save your own name,
would it not?"
She glanced through the portiere CIV
ing ingress to the salon beyond, where
Jules Chabot was just visible as he sat
at the end of the long card table. His
face was deadly pale. He whispered
from time to time with Goldstein, the
broker. Her face flushed for an instant.
What do you meanr' she CALCULATED.
Il am armed, madame. Take this pis-
toll. He shall at least have chance to
save your honor"
MY honor" exclaimed the unhappy
lady, recoiling in horror from the prof
fered weapon. PUT up your pistol. Ii
used it at all it would be to avenge
myself on his captors. Oh my son, my
SOM
They had stepped unconsciously to the
door of the conservatory. The detective
turned and took her hand. His express
sive face was aglow with some profound
emotion.
you have proved yourself worthy"
he said 1.-The courage and devotion you
have displayed in your hour of trial have
given you right to your reward"
what do you mean, monsieur?
"Come here" he said, suddenly, come
with me. l will tell you something you
never knew. Something that has come to
me as from the dead. to tell you that
your instincts have erred and you have
been made the play of cruel, designing
people"
He drew her hand within his arm and
led her to the conservatory. They sat
down upon the same seat where he had
conversed with the Vicomtesse de Valiar.
I'VE shall not be interrupted here.
will tell you story if you care to listen
to it."
Go on, monsieur" she murmured.
CHAPTER XXIII.
1.-The story" began the detective, lis
of young lady, countrywoman' of
yours. 1t was years ago that this thing
happened. She was quite handsome, very
young, very romantic and foolish. When
she was eighteen years of age she met
an American. He also was young hand
some, but dissolute and entirely unwor-
thy of her love-"
Nine. Colbert Remplin inclined her
head almost imperceptibly. She was list
ening to the history of her own life. How
had this man brought to light the secrets
of the past which had, years ago, as she
believed, been hidden by the lapse of
time"
Yielding to the Americans importu-
mites, this young lady contracted with
him q secret marriage. The result of
their union was a child-a boy. The
marriage was concealed successfully
from the young woman's parents. BY
the connivance of friend and a pre-
tended visit to the country, its conse-
quences were also kept secret. Shortly
after the birth of her child the young
woman returned to Paris, where she at
tracted the attention of very rich bank
er, who, ignorant of her past history,
sought to make her his wife. 1t was
more than probable that the lady would
not have yielded to the temptation which
was thrust before her but for two things,
first, the discovery that her husband was
a worthless, faithless fellow, second, the
opportunities of her parents. who at that
time sustained some financial reverses. 1t
appears that the banker held her faith
er's obligations for an enormous amount
A condition of the marriage was that her
parent should be released. A divorce was
ecretly secured from the first husband"
Yes. it was to save my father" muir
INJURED Nine. Colbert Remplin.
He went on:
There was little boy, as have said,
the fruit Of this unhappy young woman's
union with the American. This child
was given out to nurse to take care Of
She was the wife of a loutish. industrious
peasant, and of a peasant family herself.
but she was beautiful for all that, as
some of those women are. The American
fell in love with her. He was called
away to the United States and was absent
three years. In his absence something
had happened"
What had happened?" murmured the
woman beside him.
The child entrusted to the woman's
care had died. On the Americans re-
turn to France, she presented her own
child in its place. Her husband was
dead. There was no one to contradict
her."
A great sigh went up from the heart of
Nine. Colbert Remplin.
"Oh!" she cried, "can this he true3
My son is dead. How have you learned
this?"
Madame La Seur, who has blackmail-
ed you systematically, two days ago met
with fatal accident. Unable to see vou
she sent you in her last moments a fnII
confession of the imposition she had 30
long practiced upon you and implored
your forgiveness. This was taken bv her
messenger to the gate. where YOU usually
received her, and was promptly seized bv
one OF my men. Here is the confession
from which you will learn that Philin
Graham. whom you firmly believed to be
your own son, is in reality the son of
the peasant woman, who was the n,,rse
OF your own child, and whom Henry Ora
hAv