The Washington herald., 1914-07-19

the spy's face when he looked again at him and
knew his thoughts had been read.
What have you done with Lucille Lover he
cried.
Miss Love-" murmured Loubeaue, his voice
taking on a signing note that fairly tortured the
listeners Miss Love is on war ship
bound for Washington, l believe"
You know man was murdered in her
suite-that she arrested hotel sneak
theif?" Not much question an accusation
was it.
Miss Love has been through many more
trying situations than that" answered Loubeque
slowly, "since she pitted herself against me-"
"Pitted herself against you!" The light of
great understanding cleaned in Gibson's eyes
mingled with the murderous hatred there. Then
1t was you who stole the papers"
Quite So" Hugo Loubeque turned upon his
heel, but the iron grip of the officer upon his
shoulder, whirling him about that their faces
met. Gibsons words came in a sibilant hiss.
"You-you coward! So owe you my dis
grace-my enforced resignation from the army.
So General Love his trial and disgrace to
you. So you have kept Lucille from us, knowing
nothing of her. thinking her dead" Words
came so fast they choked him. Only his rolling
eyes testified to the full extent of his fury Again
they lighted upon the broad swords Like a
panther he leaped across the floor. seizing them
and slapping them away from the fastening
Loubeque gravely, quietly, without change of ex-
preston accepted the one that was hurled at his
feet, placing himself guard, easily turning the
insane slashes of the officer, who hurled himself
upon him.
Easily, by wrist alone, Loubeque played with
the man. His eye held no expression save that
of one looking very far away, sad, mournful,
distant. That look of indifference only served to
madden Gibson doubly. He pressed the attack
but could force recognition from his adver-
sary He was painting, breathing, and the spy de-
spite his years, showed never sign of fatigue.
Furiously he lunged when suddenly, the blade of
his adversary whirled, sending out scores of
scintilating lights as it danced in the air above
his head. He could hear it whistling about his
ears, singing sinister songs of Death. Yet he
unable to pierce that guard and make an inn
preston. Summoning every last of
strength against his tormentor, he swept the
great blade high behind his back. Then he
brought it forward in one swoop that would have
severed the spy.
He fell back as from a blow, his wrist
numbed and deadened by the wrench that had
carried the handle of the heavy sword from his
grasp. Hugo Loubeque had dropped his own blade
to the floor and was studying him quietly, no
glimmer in his eyes. Gibson glared over his head.
from the fury with which it had been driven into
the low hanging wooden beam overhead. Instincs
lively his hand reached to recover his weapon
when Loubeque laid hand of iron upon his
shoulder.
"That will do" he cried sternly. BE q man,
sir" Again that mellowed light drove the light
of anger from his eyes. His lips opened and the
voice of him was little more than sigh; such
a man as Miss Lucille Love deserves"
Gibson looked at him, startled, aghast Once
more Loubeque would have spoken when, from
below stairs, came the shril screech of po-
Gceman's whistle, followed almost instantly by
q rush of feet upon the stairs.
The spy seemed in no wise perturbed, even
though the sounds were growing louder and
louder each fraction of a second. His right hand
moved along the desk, picking up small ivory
box, exquisitely carved, which hs handed to the