Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1918-06-21
ssf a hat, she threw a gray ven A eas&

less disguise, but all that was necG@
sary. The sentries through and about
the palace were not unaccustomed to
such shrouded figures slipping out
from its gloom to light. and perhaps to
| love.
| Before she left, shs looked about
| the room. What assurance had she.
| that this very excursion was not
| trap, and that in her absence the vault
would not be looted again? 1t con-
| tanned now something infinitely val
liable and incriminating-the roll of
| film. She glanced about, and seeing
silver vase of roses, hurriedly emptied
| the water out, wrapped the film in
oiled paper, and dropped it down
| among the stems.
The Street of the Wise Virgins was
not near the palace. ETen by walking
briskly she was In danger of being
late. The wind kept her back. too.
Then, at last, the Street of the Wise
| Virgins and the fiacre, standing at the
curb, with a driver wrapped in rugs
against the cold of the February night,
and his hat pulled down over his eyes.
| The countess, stopped beside him.
"You are expecting a passenger
| "Yes, madame"
With her hand on the door, the
countess realized that the facre was
already occupied. AS she peered into
| its darkened interior, the shadow re-
solved itself into cloaked and masked
| figure. She shrank back.
Enter madame" said a voice.
The figure appalled, her. 1t was not
sufficient to know that behind the
horrifyiag mask which covered the en-
| tire face and head. there was a hui
man figure, human pulses that beat,
human eyes that appraised her. She
hesitated.
Quickly" said the voice.
! She got in, shrinking into a corner
of the carriage. Her lips were dry,
the roaring of terror was in her ears.
The door closed.
! Then commenced q drive Of which
afterward the countess dared not
think. The figure neither moved nor
spoke. Inside the carriage reigned the
most complete silence. Then the car
riage stopped, and at last the shrouded
figure moved and spoke.
II regret, countess. that my orders
are to blindfold you.9
| She submitted ungracefully, while
he bound black cloth over her eyes.
He drew it very close and knotted it
behind. In the act his fingers touched
her face, and she felt them cold and
clammy. The contact sickened her.
"Your hand. madame"
She was led out of the carriage, and
across soft earth, a devious course
again, as though they avoided small
obstacles. Once her foot touched
something low and hard, like marble.
Again, in the darkness, they stumbled
over mound She knew where she
was. then-in graveyard. But
which? There were many about the
city.
An open SPACE. the opening of a
gate or door that squeaked softly,
flight of steps that led downward, and
a breath of musty, cold air, damp and
cellarlike.
| At last, still In unbroken silence, she
knew that they had entered a large
space. Their footsteps no longer
echoed and reechoed. Her guide
walked more slowly, and at last paus-
ed, releasing her hand. She felt again
the touch of his clammy fingers as he
united the knots of her bandages. He
took 1t off.
At first she could see little. When
her eyes grew accustomed. she made
out the scene slowly.
A great stone vault, its walls
broken into crypts which had con-
tanned caskets of the dead. But the
caskets had been removed, and were
piled in a corner, and in the inches
were rifles. In the center was pine
table, curiously incongruous, and on
it writing materials, cheap clock,
and a pile of documents. There were
two candles only and these were stuck
in skulls-old brown skulls so infinite
ly removed from all semblance to the
human that they were not even hor-
rible 1t was as If they had been used,
not to inspire terror, but because they
were at hand and convenient for the
purpose. In the shadow, ranged in
semicircle, were nine figures, all mo-
tionless, all masked, and cloaked in
black. They sat, another incongruity,
on plain wooden chairs. But in spite
of that they were figures of dread.
The one who had brought her made
the tenth.
Had she not known the past record
of the men before her, the rather opera
bouffe setting with which they lose
to surround themselves might have
aroused her scorn. But Olga Loschek
knew too much. She guessed shrewd-
ly that. with the class of men with
whom they dealt, it was not enough
that their name spelled terror. They
must visualize it. They had taken
their cue from that very church, in
deed, beneath which they hid. The
| church, with its Shrines and images,
appealed to the eye. They, too, APP
pealed to the eye. Their masks, the
carefully constructed and upheld
mystery of their identity, the trappings