The Washington herald., 1914-06-07

~Yes," she muttered family. "You have
news. Tell mel am quite strong to bear any
brief contempt, then hashed about her prison.
But the feeling was merely momentary, swal-
lowed up in the great fear for those she loved.
Lucille" The spy's eyes fell before the
Lucille, you are too young yet to know that in
the completion of any great work, always there
are those who must suffer. do not attempt to
defend myself before you. do not attempt to
life has been the greatest mortal victory just q
the construction Of q man is the most marvellous
Divine achievement" He stopped, evidently find
ing it hard to continue.
81 would not harm you, Lucille; would not
cause you one moments grief or misery, ply
sical or mental, for anything in the world. But
I would allow not even the-yes, the love bear
you because of your likeness to your mother to
stand in the way Of destroying you utterly
should you attempt to get in my path And so
am very happy today, very happy for myself
while I am, at the same time, very unhappy be-
cause Of your distress. I know you cannot un-
derstand my feeling I only wish you to know
that you have stolen the fruits, the sweets Of
my victory because knowing you has made it
pain for me to even so much as see your lips q
tremble." --,
"victory?" She whispered the word aloud.
It dinned in her ears with maddening insistence,
drowning his tones completely. "victory7 You
mean?" .E-.. =.
Silently he put the newspaper In her out
stretched hand. She took it numbly staring at the
black, loaded type heading the column, staring
at the familiar, the beloved nsme Of her sweet
heart there. When she looked up Hugo Loubeque
was gone, had disappeared But that did not
matter to her now. The nature of his disappear
ance did not even impress her. Nothing mat
tered The spy's victory was approaching com
pletion. One link in bis plot had been welded.
making the remainder Of the work simple But
it was not complete. 1t was not yet finished.
Lucille looked about her wildly. She was
prisoner, but before this she had been an apa-
thetic prisoner, content to accept her solitary
confinement. Now, she was q wild woman. Now
everything that life held dear to her was being
taken away. She beat her tiny fists against the
window, then stopped at the utter futility Of it
those of a pedestrian upon the sidewalk. It was
the captain of the ship who had been her friend.
She waved her hand. knowing from his express
sion that he recognized her, that he had been
hunting her. He made q motion of writing
and she nodded swiftly, then darted toward the
little dressing table.
And there she sat, dumb with misery. In
the delight Of seeing friends face at the pey.
her desperation at its height she had not
thought q simple thing like q pencil, q pen, ink,
paper might be necessary. They had always
seemed so inevitably close at hand she naturally
expected them. Again the realization of the care
with which she was entombed here came upon
her She dsrted back to the window. The cap
tain had disappeared. Hopelessly, breathlessly,
she waited. It was half an hour before he re-
turned ana shot swnt glance TOWARD her. linen
she realized that he was wise enough to make
his appearance on the street seem natural,
casual, by not passing the place often. He
frowned impatiently as she shook her head,
frowned and passed on with significant glance
toward the house.
In despair Lucille looked about her Paper
she had She store the blank strip OF the top of
the newspaper page, tore it 80 that the headline
regarding lieutenant Gibson appeared beneath
it. She stsred helplessly in the mirror, her teeth
fastened viciously in her lower lip, 90 viciously
that when she Withdrew them tiny drop of red
blood appeared upon the delicate skin If only
she had pencil OF pen. something to write
with