Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-02-26

dead by Pelevin and Max, returning from
their long cold wait at the mill.

Chapter XII. The Gold of Morning
THE task of dragging and carrying Banks
to house. arousing the inmates, and in
ducing the frightened men and hystercal
women of the immediate vicinity to help
him save his mechanician's life, had occu-
pied all Stuyverant S strength and thought.
Underlying all of this was dull but throb
bling consciousness that Thurey was some
where, near or far, disappointed, If alive, Il
and doubtless in the hands of assassins allied
with those who must have beaten Banks.
Banks had sustained frightful blow on
the skull. He had not revived till nearly
three in the morning, and then for moment
only.
1t was daylight, and Stuyverant was still
tirelessly assisting and directing operations,
when his man at length gave assurance of
assuming his normal functioning. How
ever, he would be too i'll and weak to be
moved for several days. The name of skill
full woman nurse was supplied in answer to
Stuyverant' s demands. She lived in larger
could go in a hurry. There was no alterna-
tive, as Robley knew-he must go in his car.
FAR off on a lonesome, snow strewn road,
Thurley had meantime reused from an
inactivity that could scarcely be described
as sleep. She had shivered and chartered
all night in her box, drawing shavings and
her tattered cloak about her chilling limbs
and shoulders, and had risen at times to beat
her hands, tramp up and down the shop, and
otherwise struggle with the numbing cold
that crept to the marrow of her bones.
At the first faint streaks of dawn she had
slipped from the shedlike structure, only to
find the halfdim world scene of chill and
n T,l hn fb1,c
utterly dishcartening. She was not even
sure of the way she had come.
When at last the sun put finger through
a crack, smoldering hope again took flame
in the heart of the weary girl. Her courage
was endless. She felt that if only she could
find house, with any sort of welcome, in a
space of twenty miles, she would walk and
make no complaint.
She had gone far less than mile, and was
coming to wooden bridge that spanned
black little stream, when out of the crisp
ness of the morning air came series of sharp
percussions.
She knew them at once, the rapid fire dis
charges of a motor car, with the muff1er cut
out open. Instinctively certain that pursuit
alone could rouse men at sunrise, she darted
swiftly to the bridge, leaped down frozen
bank of gravel, and was presently crouching
in the shadows by the stream.
She had not long to wait The car sped
with snarl of power to the bridge and over
its planks, rafting down dust and bits of
snow on the girl as gray as her cloak.
1t was gone as quickly, its two eager occu-
pants, Max and Jan, wildly searching road,
copse. and field as they rounded the circle
back to the house from which their intended
victim had escaped.
They had made their discovery shortly
after two in the morning. Returning from
their wait at the mill and their murderous
assault made upon Banks, who had been
discovered too late to be another person
than the young Grand Duke, they had
striven in vain to arouse Zagorsky, till the
door had been forced and the truth abruptly
discovered.
At daylight began the search on foot, then
the car was brought into requisition. They
had taken a road where some tracks in the
snow had been left undisturbed by the wind.
The tracks were not Thurley's. Now their
circle brought them back again, calculations
convincing both the men that their captive
could scarcely have gone SO far, even by
walking all night.
When they came to the oldtime black
smith shop, they halted and broke in the
door.
THURLEY, meantime, not having dared
attempt look when the car was pass