Honolulu star-bulletin. [volume] (Honolulu [Oahu, Hawaii]) 1912-2010, 1916-01-22

the Dedcu- beIOTe ne reached the IN
Itervening 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
land glanced around her in uncertain,
lty. She, caught sight OF Neal and
started toward him.
i IF you don't mind" said the young
woman, in dulcet tones-and with just
the trace of foreign accent in her
yoice-''if you do not mind, l. should
like to find the postoffice-if you have
one here"
Neal nodded. 81 go past there" an
swered Neal, "I'll take you to it. Come
with me-"
Neal liked her-but she didn't ring
true.
This is the postoffce," he exclaim-
ed 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 postoffice a crumpled
heap turned out to be the pretty wo-
man.
Il slipped stumbled something"
she exclaimed, land, oh--the pain-the
| pain"
"Where?" queried the postmaster.
MY foot, my ankle" returned the
young lady; at 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 a quiet place-not a
boarding house, nor nothing of the
kinda quiet place for her and her
old father. l 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.
'Ill take you to my mother's,' he
said aloud; that's where you were
bound-I'm 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 1t 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 Is years
had left their mark upon them.
But this was not all-there was al
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. I will be |
very rich some day. Save my clothes
and the oilskin packet until my father
comes for me, or until ! am 10. !
must look out for man with a 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. A young woman,
her skirt dusty with the dirt of 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
"Ah, 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. It
is the injury to what you call the-the
synovia meinbrane-the covering OF
the bones. 1t 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
1t caro-. She handed it to Annette.
Annette passed it to Mrs. Hardin. This
Is what it said:
Miss irene Courier,
Nassau,
The Bahama Isles.
Il must send telegram" she
added, shutting her bag and handing
It back to Neil.
The girl dictated and Neal wrote as
follows:
Napoleon courtier, ESQ.,, Hotel Ber-
nnuda, New York City:
Sprained 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 a strik-
ing looking figure and had many pc
culiarities and eccentricities of man.
ner. The most striking thing about
him, however, was livid saber cut
across his cheek-a deep, deep cut,