Baraboo weekly news. [volume] (Baraboo, Wis.) 1912-197?, 1912-10-03

hotel. She tore the note into scraps
and flung them upon the air. She was
afraid. She was almost certain why
he wished to meet her where neither
her mothers nor her uncle's eye
would be within range. Should she
meet him? Deeper than this, dared
she? Why had she come to Cairo,
when at Mentone she had known
peace, such peace as destiny was gen.
erous enough to dole out to her? And
now, out Of this tolerable peace, a
thousand hands were reaching to rend
her heart, to wiring it. She decided
quickly. Since she had come this
far, to go on to the end would add but
little to her burden. Better to know
all too soon than too late.
That the note had not been direct
ed to her and that she was totally un-
familiar with Ryanne's handwriting,
escaped her. She had too many other
things upon her mind to see all things
clearly, especially such trif1es. She
finished her walk, returning by the
way she had gone, gave the key to the
lift-boy, and in her room dropped
down upon the bed, dry-eyed and
weary. The most eventful day she
had ever known.
And all the while George sat by
the window and watched, and at
length fell into frame of mind that
was irritable, irascible and self-con-
demnatory. And when he found that
his precious Yhiordes was gone, his
condition was the essence of all disa-
greeable emotions. 1t was beyond him
how any one could have stolen it. He
never failed to lock his door and
leave the key with the porter. And
surely, only man with wings could
have gained entrance by the window.
Being thorough business man among
other accomplishments, he reported
his loss at once to the management;
and the management set about the
matter with celebrity. At half after
seven every maid and servant In the
hotel had been questioned and exam
ined, without the least noticeable re-
suit. The rug was nowhere to be
found. George felt the loss keenly.
He was not so rich that he could af-
ford to lose both the rug and the thou
sand pounds he had paid for 1t. His
first thought had been of Ryanne; but
1t was proved that Ryanne had not
been in the hotel since morning; at
least, no one had seen him.
George gloomed about. A beastly
day, all told; everything had gone
wrong, and all because he had over
slept. At dinner something was
wrong with the soup; the fish was
greasy; the roast was dry and stringy;
the wine, full of pieces of cork. Out
into the lounging-room again; and
then the porter hurried over to him
with a note from Ryanne. It stated
briefly that it was vitality important
for Mr. Jones to meet him at nine
o'clock at the English-Bar in the Quar-
ter Rosetti. Any driver would show
him the way. Mohamed-El-Gebel, the
guardian of the Holy Yhiordes, had
turned up, and the band was begin
ming to play. Would Mr.. Jones ike
little fun by the wayside?"
''I'm his man." said George. "But
how the devil did this Mahom ed ever
get into my room?"
Had fortune dined downstairs in
stead of alone in her room, events
might have turned out differently. Ry
anne had really written to George, but
not to Fortune.
Mahomed, fatalist that he was, had
thrown everything upon the whirling
scales of chance, and waited. Later,
he may have congratulated himself
upon his good luck. But 1t wasn't
luck; 1t was the will Of Allah that he,
Mahomed, should contribute his slen-
der share in working out the des-
TIMES Of two young people.
George was in the proper mood for