Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1909-12-28

down upon them, with one or two gen.
darmes in the forefront and a giant,
who might or might not be Stryker, a
close second. Furthermore. another
cab seemed to have been requisitioned
for the chase His heart misgave him
momentarily. but his driver had taken
him at his word and generosity, and In
a breath the facre had turned the cor.
ner on two wheels, and the glittering
reaches Of the embankment drive and
promenade were blotted out, as II
smudged with lampblack, by the OBJ.
scurity Of a narrow and tortuous side
street.
He drew in his head the better to
preserve his brains against further
emergencies.
After block or two KirkwooA pick.
ed up the gladstone bag, gently opened
the door and put foot on the step,
pausing to look back. The other cab
was pelting after him with all the en-
thusiasm Of a hound on a fresh trail
He reflected that this mad progress
through the thoroughfares Of a civt
lized city would not long endure with
out police Intervention. So he waited
watching his opportunity. The fiacre
hurtled onward, the driver leaning for
ward from his box to urge the horse
with lash Of whip and tongue, entirely
unconscious Of his fares intentions.
Between two streets the mouth Of a
narrow and darksome byway flashed
into view. Kirkwood threw wide the
door and leaped, trusting to the night
to hide his stratagem, to luck to save
his limbs. Neither failed him. In a
twinkling he was on all fours in the
mouth Of the alley. and as he picked
himself up the second hacre passed,
Calendar himself poking a round bald
poll out of the window to incite his
drivers cupidity with promises Of re-
doubled fare.
Kirkwood mopped his dripping fore.
head and whistled low with dismay.
1t seemed that from that instant on It
was to be vendetta with vengeance.
Calendar, as he had foreseen. was
stopping at nothing.
At dogtrot he sped down the alley
to the next street, on which he turned
back-more sedately-toward the river,
debouching on the esplanade just one
block from the Hotel du Commerce.
AS he swung past the serried tables
Of a cafe whatever fears he had har-
bored were banished by the discovery
that the excitement occasioned by the
chase had already subsidized. Beneath
the garish awnings the crowd was
laughing and chattering, eating and
slipping its beer with complete uncon-
Germ, needless altogether Of the hag-
gard and shabby young man carrying
q black hand bag. Without attracting
any attention whatever, indeed, he
mingled with the strolling crowds,
making his way toward the Hotel du
Commerce. Yet he was not at all at
ease His uneasy conscience invested
the gladstone bag with magnetic ut
traction for the public eye. To
carry it unconcealed in his hand fur.
nished him with a sensation as dis.
turbing as though Its worn black sides
had been stenciled "Stolen" In letters
of fame. He felt it rendered him a
cynosure Of public interest, an object
Of suspicion to the wide, cold world;
that the gaze which lit upon the bag
Travelled to his face only to espy
thereon the brand Of guilt.
For ease Of mind presently he
turned into convenient shop and
spent ten invaluable francs for hand
satchel big enough to hold the glad
stone bag.
With more courage, now that he had
the hateful thing under cover. he found
and entered the Hotel du Commerce.
In the little closet which served for
an office, over q desk visibly groaning
with the weight Of an enormous and
grimy registry book, sleepy, fat.
bland and good natured woman pre-
sided, benign and drowsy divinity Of
even tempered courtesy. To his mis-
leading inquiry for NJ. Calendar she
returned a cheerful permission to seek
that gentleman for himself.
"Three flights, m'sieu', In the front.
Suit II 1t is. M'sieu' does not mind
walking up2" she inquired.
L., ha fhnnUh
by no strain Of the Imagination could
1t be truthfully said that he walked
up those steep and redolent stairways
Of the Hotel du Commerce d'Anvers.
More literally, he few with winged
feet, spurning each third padded step
with q force that raised tiny cloud
Of fine white dust from the carpeting.
Breathless, at last he paused at the
top Of the third flight His heart was
hammering. his pulses drumming like
wild things; there was queer con.
striction In his throat, fire of hope in
his heart alternating with the Ice Of
doubt. Suppose she were not there!
What II be were mistaken What II he
had misunderstood What II Mulready
and Calendar had referred to another
lodging house? He passed down the
corridor to the door whose panels wore
the painted legend II and there
Knocked.
Believing that he overheard from
within sudden startled exclamation,
he smiled patiently. tolerant Of her
surprise.
Burning with impatience as with q
fever, he endured long minutes wait
Misgivings were prompting him to
knock again and summon her by name
when he heard footballs on the other
side Of the door. followed by click
Of the lock. The door was opened
grudgingly q bare six inches.
OF the alarmed expression In the
eyes that stared into his he took no
account. His face heightened a little
as he stood there, dumb. painting. star.
ing, and his heart sank. down, deep
down into gulf Of disappointment
weighted sorely with chagrin.
Then. Of the two the first to recover
countenance. he dofred his cap and
bowed.
"Good evening, Mrs. Hallam," he
said. with u rueful smile.
CHAPTER XIII,
OW, II Kirkwood's emotion was
I'M poignant, Mrs. Hallam's as