The Mitchell capital. (Mitchell, Dakota [S.D.]) 1879-1918, 1908-11-27
Fiction
CALLED DOWN.
BY DOUGLAS z. ooTY.

BY DOUGLAS z. OOTY.
BY birth a gentleman. by force Of
circumstances a jack of all trades, by
profession Il r%aconteur.
Such was my record when l arrived
III England. whittier the fame of my
stories had preceded me. Almost d.
m~sly | received IL letter from Lord
lsruwer of Tentowers castle, in Sur
10y. requesting Inc to come down to
his place. as he was entertaining a
large house party.
The castle. founded as Il monastery,
vas n most romantic pile, representing
III it's various towers and wings n sue
ccssion of architectural periods. Its
maze of winding corridors and hidden
stairways suggested mystery and in
vited exploration.
My initiM appearance before Lord
Brewers guests was to be at dinner,
and l spent the last moments before
leaving my apartment In reading owe
the list Of topics l had jotted down for
use during the evening. A raconteur
is expected to I'LL In every lull, every
dull moment. Suddenly there fell upon
the quiet Of my room these significant
words:
I'VE must run 1t up to $4,000 tonight!
Do you hear? We must"
stared around the DON 1t seemed
as II the sound had come through
some dull tapestry in a small alcove.
Perhaps the tapestry covered a secret
door. But there was no time to inves-
tigate. A Respondent footman was
waiting to conduct me to Lord Brow
er's presence.
An interesting lot they were gather
ed around the dinner table Of Tentow-
ers castle hat night-that is, they
were interesting to me as types for
study. AS conversationalists they were
failures, for the only subjects on
which they talked fluently were cards
and horsefesh.
selected my stories accordingly.
The guests were apparently familiar
with the customs Of Monte Carlo, but
I told them tales Of our own wild west.
Of games Of faro and poker that fairly
made them gasp, and after dinner l
must teach them our national game of
chance.
Sitting opposite me at table a a
broad shouldered, dark man, whose
eyes, black and set rather close to-
gether, never left my face. His lips
were thin and bloodless, and his long,
rather aqulline nose had a cruel curve
about the nostrils. But what most at
tracted my attention was his odd trick
Of drumming almost constantly with
his right hand, now on the table, now
On the arm of his chair and now on
his square chin. The instant he spoke
l recognized the voice back of the
tapestry in my room. His name was
Captain Marchand.
His Wife sat at my right, a hand
some woman, with a profusion Of soft
brown hair and beautiful blue eyes,
which, l learned in a short time, We're
playing havoc with the mental peace
Of a young fellow named Chadwick.
who was plainly jealous Of every
smile the lady wasted on me. He was
a handsome. boyish looking fellow,
n of those chaps who imagine them
selves violently in love with every
pretty face they meet.
Mrs. Marchand seemed to have
caught her husbands peculiar trick of
beating that devilish tattoo with her
edge. but no one else at the table ap-
peareG to notice it. | caught myself
Recalling stories of telegraph operators
who continued their work automatical-
ly after office hours, but surely these
two guests of an English aristocrai
knew nothing of a trade. In the cours
Of my eventful and uncertain life ]
had been an operator for q short pc
riod.
told my choicest stag stories, to which
the men drank freely. and by the time
we rose to enter the drawing room it
can be truthfully said that Captain
Marcband and myself were the only
men Of the party who were thoroughly
sober.
During the next hour | was kept
busy explaining the i%ntricacies Of polk
er. after which I watched the guests
yield to the fascination Of the game.
Soon little piles Of sovereigns and
notes appeared and disappeared at the
various tables. Excitement grew apace.
and the very faces of the players were
transformed. The greed Of gain was
| upon them. 1t was my first glimpse Of
the English aristocrat at his private
gaming table.
Finally interest centered at the table
where Marchand and young Chadwick
held forth alone. At the beginning
Chadwick had won, and with a tri-
umphant gesture he would haul in his
little pile Of gold. The liquor had
brought a sparkle to his eye and daring
to his tongue. for he kept Mrs. Mar
chand close at his side, declaring her
to be his mascot and casting such Ian
gushing glances into her perfect blue
eyes that l wondered at Captain Mar
Glands calmness. When Chadwick
won she clapped her hands in girlish
glee. and once or twice l caught q
cynical smile on Marchand's lips.
Clearly her presence was going tie
C,1,,1 y,inl,Sc 1,Nol Jyn 1oroJ ,Da1-1oec