Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1914-07-13

to play mans part, and unscrupuous mans,
in this warfare. She took the revolver from its
hiding place and examined it carefully Yes, she
would shoot to kill if necessary. Loubeque must
not win. AS though to test her courage she
stepped into the big living room. portrait in
oils of the owner of the house looked down from
the walls at her Steadily, relentlessly, without
a qualm she lifted the automatic and fired. Tho
canvas ripped squarely across the face and
Lucille turned silently and continued her ex-
animation of the house.
Laggard time for flew while she waited
the long interval that was to elapse before the
arrival of the spy Lucille found the
tunnel through which she had been led, found
mysterious passages and explored them, studied
out the position she would be in when she COM
peted her work with the enemy who to
come.
step sounded overhead, slow, measured
methodical. She pressed close against the switch
board to the house of mystery, the emanation of
the mysteries. Her fingers trembled slightly. The
feet moved up the stairs. She waited, fingers
outstretched toward little ivory button. The
cool surface kissed the finger pad, the pad upon
which depended the honor of father and sweet
heart, which spet home, life, love to her.
Somewhere clock ticking. No, it was
her heart: Pounding, pounding until she thought
the sound would deafen her. Still, she waited.
From abope-silence.
CHAPTER XXXXXII.
The Hour Appointed.
HUGO LOUBEQUE moved slowly to his private
office on the second floor. He shivered slight
ly as he went up the stairs. Ghosts were in the
hnally and forever. And all the ghosts were
those of Hate, had always been those of Hate,
until this slip of a girl had come here.
He seated himself at his desk to wait, wan
dering off in day dream of peasanter memor-
les. Lucille-how her very presence here had
made the place bearable What had the witch
done to him that she could entice away all the
grim visions of blood and carnage and evil
through which he had gone in his life pursuit of
revenge? He took the precious packet of stolen
papers from his pocket.
sweet he for bis
and yet it was not sweet. No, all the sweetness
of his life had been since first he looked toward
the the heavens and the giant man-made bird brought
into his life Lucille. And this greater sweetness
he was about to turn to gall and wormwood that
he might cling to aged memory.
He slapped his fist heavily upon the table,
cursing himself for fool that such thoughts
should oppress him. Forcibly he recalled the days
at West Point the theft of his sweetheart by
Sumpter Love- his disgrace and expulsion
and the hard, barren life that followed. Hate
was king, had always been king and would be
crowned this night-this very minute
What allied the Ensign that he did not come.
IL was past the time appointed. That was most
unusual. He strobe nervousy up and down the
floor. Nerves frightened within him. Could it
be-was it possible that, after all--Pshaw! Away
with such chd's thoughts. He was a man. had
always played more than mans work in the
game of life
Alone Always had he been alone. Servants.
Yes, there were still servants but they must be
held in abject fear, must sometimes be killed
even as Thompson had been killed. Thompson
The beginning of the papers had been with
Thompson, and now how very close the end had
been the buffers finish. The icy terror on that
face at which he had glanced back, etched itself
upon his brain and he shrank away from it. He
flung out his hands in a wide gesture of defiance
and simultaneously the floor gave way violently
beneath him, flashed down with lightning speed,
bringing up upon the basement floor with such
violence that everything in the room was over
turned, while he himself lay half stunned against
the table
He staggered away, finding himself so weak
and dazed he obliged to clutch the table edge
to keep from toppling over. Something cool and
soft brushed against his hand, then the softness
grew iron and his fingers loosened from
their clutch. He staggered back back against
the basement wall. He heard Lucille's voice. ut
terng little cry of delight His hands
countered the light SWITCH instinctively pressing.
The flood of yellow light in the
center of which, slowly retreating toward the
tunnel exit from the house, revolver pointed
steadily at him with eyes sighting behind the
vover that were harder even than the giant of
metal stood Lucille Love, the precious packet of
papers in her hand, the fingers of which clutched
them in death-defying grip.
Slowly, without word, she disappeared from
view, departed as abruptly, unexpectedly
she had appeared, making use of the spy's in
genuity to turn it against him in this, his
greatest hour. For a moment he could not think
or do anything then he darted toward the tun-
nell, staggering back white hot iron
scared his brow even as an orange squirt of flame
leaped out the darkness at him.
He could not charge that way. He dashed
to the stairs, rushing into the open, hatless, wd
dishevelled. An automobile stood before the door.
He directed it wildly toward the tunnel entrance,
arriving there barely in time to Lucille step
inside another motor car and dart forward like
a living thing
Helpless, hopeless, yet fighting on with bull
dog ferocity, Loubeque continued the chase. Times
he would lose her only to pick the car up again
in the most unexpected place. Then, for full
five minutes, along the water front, she disap-
peared.
husky irate chauffeur stepped before his
>driver and slammed open the door.
"Hey, youse," he bawled angrily, "whatta yuh
mean chasin' loidy like dat?"
Loubeque did not answer. Instead he put
question, swapping it in tone of authority that
made even the man cringe.
"Where did she go?"
The driver passed him grimy card. The in
ternatonal spy turned it over in his hand, read
ing the address upon it and marking that it was
not block away. On the diverse side he read
Ensign Howells name. The chauffeur was point
ing out upon the harbor. Loubeque looked, marked
the slim figure of Lucille standing upright in the
briskly manned cutter approaching the big ship
A speck of white futtered in her hands. II
dropped. The hands themselves flung out fare
well to him and, as the big ship slowly disap
peared, leaving in its wake but whirl of rush.
ing water, he turned away.
His shoulders seemed to have slumped in th(