The Green Forest tribune., 1915-09-03
CHAPTER VIII,
life's Counter-Claim,

No word of mine can express my ah. soiute and abject amazement when I laced the man, whom had seen ly- Ing cold and dead upon that gray stone siaD 1n the mortuary of Dumfries.
 My eye caught the customer who, on the entry of Olinto, had dropped hls paper and sat staring at him in Wonderment. The detective had evil dently been furnished with a photo graph of the dead man, and now, like myself. discovered him alive and liy. ing.
 "Signor Padrone!" cried the man whose appearance was so absolutely bewildering. How did you find me here? l admit that I deceived you when l told you I worked at the Mi lano," he went on rapidly in Italian. But it was under compulsion-my ac- tions that night were not my own but those of others"
 Yes, I understand" said But come out into the street I don't wish to speak before these people. Your padrone knows Italian, no doubt" And turning with smile to the Pole. 1 apologized for taking away his serv- ant for few minutes.
 And when we were outside. Olinto walking by my side in wonderment, I asked suddenly:
 Tell me. Have you ever been in Scotland-at Dumfries?"
 Never. signor, in my life. Why?"
 Answer me another question:" | said quickly You married Armida at the Italian consulate. Where is she now-where is she this morn ing?"
 He turned pale, and I saw a com plete change in his countenance
 "Ah, signore!" he responded. T only wish could tell"
 T cast no reflection whatever upon you, Olinto; I have merely inquired after your wife, and you do not give me direct reply"
 We had walked to the Royal Oak, and stood talking on the curb outside.
 q give you no reply. because can't" he said in Italian. "Armida- my poor Armida-has left home"
 Why did you tell me such a tale of distress regarding herr"
 AS I have already explained, sig nore, I was not then master of my own actions. was ruled by others. But I saved your life at risk of my own. Some day. when it is safe, I will reveal to you everything"
 Let us allow the past to remain" said. Where is your wife now?"
 He hesitated a moment, looking straight into my face.
 "The truth is, Signor Commenda- tore, that my wife has mysteriously disappeared Last Saturday at eleven o'clock she was talking over the gar den wall with a neighbor, and was then dressed to go out. She apparent ly went out, but from that moment no one has seen or heard of her
 It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him the ghastly truth, yet so strange was the circumstance that hls own double, even to the mole upon his face. should be lying dead and buried in Scotland that hesitated to relate what l knew.
 "She spoke English, I suppose?"
 She could make herself understood very we'll" he said with sigh, and saw a heavy, thoughtful look upon his brow. That he was really devoted to her knew With the Italian of whatever station in life, love is all is either perfect love or genuine hatred. The Tuscan char acter is one of two extremes.
 I glanced across the road, and saw that the detective who had ordered his chop and coffee had stopped to light his pipe and was watching us.
 But why haven't you told the DO lice?"
 q prefer to make inquiries for my self"
 And in what have your inquiries re- sulted?"
 Nothing nothing. he i'd oraVely