Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1911-04-04

quickly and started for the door, when
something struck me q terrific blow
on the nose. reeled back and sat
down, dizzy and shocked. twas only
when no second blow followed the
first that realized what had occurred.
With my two hands out before me IN
the blackness, had CROPPED, one hand
on either side of the open door, which
Of course had struck violently with
my nose. Afterward found u nao
bled considerably, and my collar ana
tie must have added to my CHASTITY ap-
pearance.
NV candlestick had rolled under the
table. and after crawling around on
my hands and knees, found It. l
had lost, suppose, three or four MIN
utes, and was raging at my awkward
ness and stupidity. No one, however
seemed to have heard the noise. for
all her boosted watchfulness, MISS
I,etitia must have been asleep. got
back into the hall and from there to
the dininR-room. Some one was
fumbling at the shutters there, and
as looked they swung open. II was
so dark outside, with the trees ana
the distance from the street, that only
the creaking of the shutter told 1t had
opened. I stood in the middle OF the
room. with one hand firmly clutching
my candlestick.
But the window refused to move.
The burglar seemed to have no
proper tools: he got something under
the sash, but 1t snapped, and through
the heavy plate glass could hear
him swearing. Then he abruptly left
the window and made for the front
of the house.
Numbered in the same direction,
nv unshod feet striking on projecting
furniture and causing agonies, even
through my excitement. When
reached the front door, however,
was amazed to find it unlocked, and
standing open perhaps an inch. |
stopped uncertainty. was IN
peculiar position; not even the most
ardent admirers Of antique brass
candlesticks indorse them as weapons
of offense or defense. But. there
seeming to be nothing else to 40,
opened the door quietly and stepped
out into the darkness.
The next instant was flung heavily
to the porch floor. I am not small
man by any means, but under the fury
of that onslaught l was a child. II
was a porch chair, I think, that
knocked me senseless; l know folded
up like e. jack-knife, and that was all
I did know for few minutes.
When | came to I was lying where
II had fallen, and candle was burn
ing beside me on the porch floor. II
took me minute to remember, and
another minute to realize that l was
looking into the barrel of revolver.
n occurred to me that l had never
seen a more villainous face than that
Of the man who held (which shows
nv state of mind-and that my posi-
ton was the reverse of comfortable.
Then the man behind the gun spoke.
"vhat did you do with that bag?"
he demanded, and felt his knee on
my chest
'What bag?" l inquired feebly. MY
head was jumping and the candle Was
a volcanic eruption OF sparks and
smoke.
"Don,t be a fool" the gentleman
with the revolver persisted. IF l
don't get that bag within five minutes,
I'll fill you as full Of holes as 9
cheese
II haven't seen any bag" I said
stupidity. What sort Of bag
heard. my own voice, drunk from the
shock. paper bag, laundry bag
you've hidden 1t in the house. he
said, bringing the revolver little
closer with every word. My senses
came back with jerk and struggled
to free myself
GO in and look" responded. Let
me up from here, and I'll take you in
myself"
The mans face was a study In
amazement and anger.
you'll take me in! You!" He got
up without changing the menacing
position Of the gun. "You walk in
therefore, carry the candle-and
take me to that bag. Quick, do you
hear?"
l was too bewildered to struggle. l
got up dizzily, but when l tried to
stoop for the candle almost fell on
it. My head cleared after a moment,
and when I had picked up the candle
l had good chance to look at my as
-sailant He was staring at me, too.
He was a young fellow, well dressed
and haggard beyond belief.
II don't know anything about a
bag" persisted, "but If you will give
me your word there was nothing in 1T
belonging to this house, / will take
you in and let you look for it.
The next moment he had lowered
the revolver and clutched my arm.
"Who in the devils name are you?"
he asked wildly. i.
think the thing dawned on us both
at the same moment.
my name is Knox l said coolly,
feeling for my handkerchief-my head
was bleeding from cut over the ear
John Knox"
"Knox!' Instead of showing relief,
his manner showed greater consterna-
ton than ever. He snatched the candle
from me, and, holding it up, searched
my face. "Then-good God-where IS
my travelling bag?"
81 have something in my head where
you hit me-" l said. Perhaps that is
It,"
Rut NV sarcasm was lost on him.