The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1915-10-09
CHAPTER VII.
The Flash Flare.

swung down the narrow lane toward
the beach. Before he reached the in
tervening railroad tracks a train
pulled ina shore train from New
York. Its last two cars blocked Meals
progress toward the beach-and he
was forced to wait until the train
pulled out again. Meantime, while the
train was stationary. single passen-
ger alighted-a smartly dressed young
woman.
She stopped. once she had alighted
and glanced about her in uncertain
ty. She caught sight OF Neal and
started toward him
IF you don't mind" said the young
woman, in dulcet tones-and with just
the trace of foreign accent in her
voice-''if you do not mind, I should
like to find the post office-if you
have one here"
Neal nodded. Il go past there an
swered Neal, 'Ill take you to it.
Come with me-"
Neal liked her-but she didn't ring
true
This is the post Office he ex-
claimed at length.
Neal passed on toward the beach
He had not gone far when he heard
woman's scream. He looked back. In
front of the post office a crumpled
heap turned out to be the pretty WON
an.
81 slipped stumbled something"
she exclaimed, "and, oh-the pain-the
pain"
"Where?" queried the postmaster.
"My foot, my ankle returned the
young lady; 1T is bad-bad."
She fell back. half fainting, in Meals
arms. The postmaster nodded to Neal.
She was going to your mothers,
Neal" he said.
"My mothers" gasped Neal. does
does she know my MOTHER
The postmaster shook his head.
"She wanted quiet place-not
boarding house, nor nothing Of the
kinda quiet place for her and her
old father. gave her your mothers
name didn't know. thought may
be your mother might take 'em in"
Neal clutched her in his strong arms
and staggered to his feet.
I'll take you to my mothers" he
said aloud: that's where you were
bound-Im Mrs. Hardin's SON.
Meals mother. Mrs. Captain Hardin,
had spent good part of the last hour
in the attic of her coy little house.
She was delving into the depths of an
old leather trunk-and that meant
that she was delving into the past.
At the very bottom of the trunk
| where she had placed them years ago,
was a newspaper package. carefully
| tied up. She opened it and spread its
contents on the lid of the trunk They
| consisted of the clothing-all the
| clothing-of little girl-the dress
and the linen articles had turned
slightly yellow-even the thirteen
| years had left their mark upon them.
| But this was not all-there was a
bag of gold-the bag of gold that the
little girl had brought aboard the Prin-
cess during that day of terror back at
Martinique. And pinned to the tiny
dress was still the note-hastily pen
ciled by an unknown hand:
am Annette llington. heiress Of
the lost isle Of Cinnabar. will be
very rich some day. Save my clothes
and the oilskin packet until my father
comes for me, or until ! am eighteen.
! must look out for man with saber
cut upon his face. For Gods sake,
keep me safe.
She was startled by Annette's cry
from below. Hastily she slowed away
the contents Of the newspaper pack
age and shut and locked the trunk.
When she reached the living room.
she started back. young woman.
her skirt dusty with the dirt CT the
road. was lying full length upon the
lounge. Her eyes were closed. Neal
was standing at her head, placing a
wet cloth upon her forehead Annette
removed her shoe.
All, the pain-the pain" groaned
the sufferer
Why, there's no swelling" said An
nette.
The girl on the lounge opened her
eyes. 1T is always that way she re-
piled; that is not the first time 1t
is the injury to what you call the-the
synovial membrane-the covering OF
The bones. Ii has happened twice be-
fore"
The girl signaled for her leather
handbag which was on the table. Neal
fetched it for her. and she took from
it card, She handed it to Annette.
Annette passed il TO Mrs. Hardin This
Is what it said.
Miss Irene courtier.
Nassau,
The Bahama Isles.
Il must send a telegram" she
added. shutting her bag and handing ii
back TO Neil
The girl dictated and Neal wrote as
follows:
Napoleon courtier, Esq, Hotel Der
muda, New York City:
Spralned my ankle. Don't worry,
Have found friends in Seaport.
IRENE.
Over in the Hotel Bermuda in New
York sat Mr.. Napoleon Courtier-a
foreign.looking gentleman of distin.
guished appearance. He was strik.
ing,looking figure and had many pc
culiarities and eccentricities of man.
ner The most striking thing about
him, however. was a livid saber cut
across his cheek-a deep. deep cut
a bad scar. 1t is probable. however,
| that Mr. Cnnrfier attracted no more