The Tabor independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1913-19??, 1918-11-28
tCHAprER TwENTY-contlnued.)

e.
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Why, my dear sir, what Z
state we re getting ourselves in
to! OF course, | understand thai
my sudden return Gems an un
usual and even an inconvenien.
proceeding, but still it docs not
do to be so unc0ntrollably i'm.
pressed Men have seen much
more extraordinary things than
that, such rs Joshua staying the
sun, and more sensational dis.
a%sters, such as the Lisbon earth.
quake of 1855.
The wise man rcduccS events
to their proper proportions and
judges them, not by their action
upon his own destiny, but by the
way III which they influence the
fortunes of~the world. Now con
TESS that your little mishap is
purely individual and does not
affect the equilibrium Of the solar
system. You know what Marcus
Aurclitls says, ION page 81, of
Charpentier's edition."
The cripple had pluckcd up
courage to raise his head; and the
real state of things now became
so obviously apparent that he
could no longer get away from
the undcniablc fact: Arsene
Lupin was not dead! Arsene
Lupin whom he had hurled into
the bowels of the earth and
crushed with a hammer; Arsene
Lupin was not dead.
How to explain 80 astounding
a mystery the cripple did not
even stop to wonder. One thing
alone mattered: Arscne Lupin
was not dead. Arsene Lupin
looked and spoke as a living man
does. Arsene Lupin was not dead.
He breathed, he smiled, he talked,
he lived!
And 1t was SO certainly life that
the scoundrel saw before him
that, obeying a sudden impulse Of
his nature and of his hatred for
life, he flattered himself to his
full length, reached his revolver,
seized It, and fired.
He fired; but it was too late.
Don Luis had caused the weapon
to swerve with a kick of his boot.
Another kick sent it flying out of
the cripple's hand.
The villain ground his teeth
with fury and at once began hur-
ridly to tumble in his pockets.
is this what you're looking
for, sirP' asked Don Luis, hold
ing up a hypodermic syringe
filled with a yellow fluid. "Ex-
cuse me, but I was afraid lest you
should prick yourself by mistake.
That would have been q fatal
prick, would it notl And ] should
never have forgiven myself"
The cripple was disarmed. He
fesltated for a moment, surprised
that the enemy did not attack him
more violently, and sought to
profit by the delay. His small,
blinking eyes wandered around
him, looking for something to
throw. But an idea seemed TO
strike him and to restore his con
fidence little by little; and, in a
new and really unexpected fit of
delight, he INDUCED i'll one of his
loudest chuckles:
"And what about Florence?"
he shouted. Don't forget Flor
enee! For I've got you there! r.
can miss you with my revolver
can steal my poison but
| have another means of hitting
you, right in the heart. You can't
live without Florence, can your
tlorence's death means your own
sentence, doesn'. it? If Florence
is dead, you'll put the rope round
your own neck, won't You, won't
you, won't youY".
Yes. Ii Florence were to die,
| could not survive her!"
She is dead!' cried the seoun-
drel, with "a renewed burst of
hopping about on his
knees. She's dead, quite, quite
What am I saying2 She's
more than dead! A dead person
retains the appearance Of Il live
one for a time; but this is much
there's no corpse here,
just a mess of flesh and
THE whole scaffoldihig Of
'Ocks has come down on top of
Ter. You can picture it, en7
What y sight! Come, quick, it's
our turn to kick the bucket.
Would YOU like a length of ropee,
Ia, ha, ha! It's enough to make
die with laughing, Didn't |
ay that you'd meet at the gates
Il licll? Quick. your sweetheart's