Baraboo weekly news. [volume] (Baraboo, Wis.) 1912-197?, 1912-09-12
CHAPTER VIII.
The PurIoined Gable.


George, having made his bargain
with conscience relative to the Yhior-
des rug, slept the sleep of the untrou-
bled, of the just, of the man who had
nothing in particular to get up for. In
fact, after having drunk his breakfast
cocoa and eaten his buttered toast, he
evtnced his satisfaction by turning his
face away from the attracting morn
ing light and passing off into sleep
again. And thereby hangs this tale.
So much depended upon his getting
his mail as 1t came in that morning,
that Fate herself must have resisted
sturdily the desire to shake him by
the shoulder. Perhaps she would have
done so but for the serenity of his
pose and the infantile smile that lin
gered for a while round his lips. Fate,
as with most of us, has her sentiment
al lapses.
The man next door, having no con-
science to speak Of (indeed, he had de-
rallied her while passing his twenti-
eth meridianD was up betimes. He
had turned In at four; at six he was
strolling about the deserted lounging-
room, watching the entrances. 1t is
inconceivable how easily mail may be
purloined in a large hotel. There are
as many ways as points to the wind
Ryanne chose the simplest. He waited
for the mailbag to be emptied upon
the head-porter's counter. Nonchal-
antly, but deftly, while the porter
looked on, the adventurer ran through
the bulk. He found three letters and
a cable, the latter having been re-
ceived by Georges bankers the day
before and mailed directly to the ho-
tel The porter had no suspicion that
a bold theft was being committed UNI
der his very eyes. Moreover, circum-
stances prevented his ever learning
of it. Ryanne stuffed the spells into
a pocket.
eff any one asks for me-" he said,
"say that shall be at my bankers,
the Anglo-Egyptian bank, at 10 o'clock.
Eyes, sir" replied the porter, as he
began to sort the rest of the mail,
not forgetting to peruse the postals.
Ryanne went out into the street,
El-Gebel shook the folds of his cloak
and followed. The adventurer did not
slacken his gait till he reached Shep-
heard's hotel. Upon the steps he
paused. Some English troops were
marching past, on the way to the rail-
way station; the usual number of ma
tives were patrolling the sidewalks,
dangling strings of imitation scarabs;
a caravan of pack-camels, laden with
cotton, shuffled by haughtily; blind
beggar sat on the curb in front,
munching a piece of sugar cane.
Ryanne, assured that no one he knew
was about, proceeded into the writing
room, wholly deserted at this early
hour.
He sat down at desk and opened
the cable. 1t contained exactly what
he expected. 1t was call for adj
vice in regard to the rental of Mr..
George P. A. Jones mansion in New
York and the temporary disposing of
the loose valuables. Ryanne read it
over a dozen times, with puckered
brow, and finally balled it fiercely in
his fist. Fool! He could not, at that
moment, remember the most essen
tial point in the game, the name and
office of the agent to whom he must
this very morning send reply. Hur-
riedly he f1shed out the letters; one
chance in thousand. He swore but
in relief. In the corner of one of the
letters he saw that for some unknown
reason the gods were still with him.
Reynolds and Reynolds, estates, Broad
street: he remembered He wrote out
a reply on a piece of hotel paper, in
tending to copy it off at the cable
office This reply covered the ground
convincingly. Renting for two
months. Old friends. Leave things
as they are. P. A." The initials
were a little stroke From some
source Ryanne has picked up the fact
that Jones' business correspondence
was conducted over those two initials.
He tore up the cable into small illegi-
BILE squares and dropped some into one
basket and some into another. Next,
he readdressed Georges mail to Leip-
zig; another stroke, meaning delay
OF two or three months; from the
head Office of his bankers there to
Paris, Paris to Naples, Naples to New
York. That Ryanne did not open
these letters was in nowise due to
moral suasion; whatever they con-
tanned could be of no vital Importance
to him.
Nov, Horace, we shall bend the
crook OF our elbow in the bar-room.
The reaction warrants a stimulant."
An hour later the whole affair was
nicely of his hands. The cable had
cost him three sovereigns. But what
was that? Niente. rien: nothing; a