Putnam patriot., 1913-08-08

foreboding brought a sense of faint ness even to the boldest. From behind the mask came the voice. A mighty roar shook the loose scream-"Up, Samson, up, Samson up!"
 Then 1t was that Samson found his voice. A mighty roar shook the losse- ly-set bars of the central cage-they vibrated visibly. The roar did not come as one short sharp note of de- fiance; 1t rose and fell, then rose anew, varying in the infections of the voice of slave who dares to threaten, fears even while he threatens. and gathers passion from his fear.
 At that fearful reverberation, the audience started up, panic-stricken. Hitherto, the last act had been regard ed as a badly-played comedy; now tragedy was in the air.
 Gregory and Grace Noir at that in- stant, became alive to their surround ings. Hitherto, despising the show, re- bellious at the destiny which had forced them to attend it, they had been wholly absorbed in their efforts to escape observation. The roaring of the lion startled them to perception of the general alarm.
 Grace chung to Gregory. "Oh, save mel" she panted hysterically
 The voice of the woman behind the bars rang throughout the tent-"Sit down!" The voice was not loud, now, but singularly penetrating. "Sit down, all of you, and remain absolutely mo- tionless, or 1 am lost"
 She dared not remove her gaze from Samsons eyes; but on hearing no rat ting of blanks, she knew her appeal had been obeyed. There came to her, however, the smothered cries of terri fled women, mingled, here and there, with unrestrained ejaculations of dis may.
 Abbott Ashton, but few yards dis tant, grasped the rope with bloodless hands; he appeared as white statue, seeming not even to breathe. In that moment, Robert Clinton forgot the jealous suspicion that had tortured his heart since missing Grace Noir from 
 her desk.
 Grace Noir, her eyes closed, her cheeks pallid. leaned her head upon Gregory's shoulder, quivering convul- sively.
 There, there" Gregory whispered in her ear, soothingly, everything will be all right"
 r,l.o r,aobaJ xuornop Tor tho cacnpd time addressed the terrified audience, still not venturing to turn her head in their direction: Whoever moves, or speaks. or cries aloud, will be my mur- derer. I have only one hope left, and I'm going to try 1t now. l ask you people out there to give me just this one chance for my life. Keep absolute ly still"
 Again Samson uttered his terrible roar. It alone was audible. Tier above tier, faces rose to the tent-roof, white and set. The audience was like one huge block of stone in which only faces have been carved.
 The penetrating voice addressed the band boys: Don't play. He can tell you re frightened
 The agitated music ceased.
 Then the woman walked to the far therest side of the inclosure. In do- ing SO she was obliged to pass the crouching form of Hercules. but she pretended not to know he was there; she moved slowly backward, always facing Samson.
 At last the vertical bars prevented farther retreat Then she lifted her hand slowly. steadily, and drew oil her crimson mask. It dropped at her feet Despite the mufled street-noises that never ceased to rumble from afar, the whispering sound of the silken mask, as 1t struck the plank floor of the cage. was distinctly audible.
 "Gracel" Gregory whispered in hor- ror-'1t's Frani"
 Grace started from his embrace at the name and glared down upon the stage. She sat erect, unsupported. petrfned.
 Gregorys brow was moistened with q chilled dew. -It's Fran" he mum hled. tits Fran, Grace-pray for her. Fran i,oked Samson steadily in the axes and Samson glared back fixediy. For A few moments. this culver De ,waan life and death remained at the