The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1926-05-14
Porto Be11O Gold
ARTHUR d. HOWDEN SMITH
Us Cwrghby ArhnD Ho mnih

might not hope to reach the truth, nor
am greatly concerned thereat. Most
Jacobite plots are ill-planned sallies
by desperate, misguided men. No,
boy, what inks me most is the tidings
you had of the one-legged sailor. Sill
yer, you called him? Yes, 1 like 1t
not to hear the pirates are outside
our harbor. 1t hath the look of daring
beyond the ordinary. If Murray"
The door behind me opened, and ]
saw my fathers jaw drop. Peter, at
my right hand, let his eyelids blink,
then went on quietly cracking nuts
between his huge fingers.
did hear you call me, Ormerod"
The voice from the doorway had
chill, level quality that was as reso-
nant as the tolling of bell.
IF Murray / thought / heard
my name?"
1 screwed around In my chair.
There in the doorway stood the most
remarkable figure had ever seen. A
large man, straight as an arrow de-
spite the years that, had planted
crows feet so thickly about his eyes,
his square shoulders showed to adj
vantage the exquisite tailoring of the
black velvet coat he wore. His small
clothes were of fine yellow damasked
silk, and his stockings Of silk to
match. Diamonds flashed from the
buckles of his shoes, his fob, his
fingers and the hilt of his crossword.
A great ruby glowed In the Mechin
jabot that cascaded from his throat.
Over his arm hung cloak, and under
his elbow was tucked hat cooked
in the latest mode.
But 1t was the memory of his face
that abided with you. The features
were all big and strongly carved; the
nose was jutting beak above tight
Tipped mouth and jaw that was
brutally square; the eyes were vivid
black, flecked with tawny lights His
hair was of pure, silvery whiteness
and drawn back, dubbed and tied
with black ribbon. His cheeks and
brows were furrowed by a maze of
wrinkles, yet the flesh seemed as firm
as mine. In every way he suggested
breeding, gentility, wealth; but there
was a combined effect of sinister
power and predatory will, hint of
ruthless egotism which took no ac-
count of any interests save his own.
He acknowledged my prolonged
stare with slight bow, mildly
derisive.
"Your SON. Ormerod?" he continued
my grandnephew? Robert, think,
you named him, for the redoubtable
Master Juggins of London, who aided
you to start life anew after you had
contrived to wreck yourself upon the
rocks of a foresworn Jacobite career"
My father rose slowly to his feet.
Eyes, he is my son, Murray. 1t is
neither his fault nor mine that he is
also your granddaughter. As to his
name, Robert Juggins was better
man than you or /, and you cannot
inspire my son against me by limiting
at hidden chapters of my early life.
He knows that / was deluded into
serving the Stuarts, and lived to learn
that country comes before king"
The man in the doorway nodded his
head.
81 would not seem discourteous,"
he remarked suavely. 81 note another
old friend, Ormerod-or perhaps /
should say an old enemy. Permit me
to observe, Corlaer, that you wear
we'll with the years-as well as my
self, indeed"
Peter squeezed q hickory-nut be-
tween his forefinger and thumb and
looked up vacantly into Murrays face
"Ja," he said.
LEST you should be tempted by
some Misrepresentation" pursued Muir
ray, 81 may inform you that / have
every reason to suppose myself safe
from any measures you might take
against me. i hope to do what have
come here for tonight without injur-
ing anybody, and if you gentlemen
will listen to me quietly for a few
moments | am confident that the is
sue will be harmless for all of u.s."
He cast his cloak and hat upon
chair by the fire, and put his hand
upon the vacant one betwixt my IA
Their and me.
MAY TT he asked.
Ny father, still standing, said moth
ing: and Murray, with a shrug, &C
cepted the silence for consent, sank
into the seat and drew a
golden snuff-box, studded with bril-
liants, from pocket.
with your permission" he said,
springing the cover.
A fragrant Whit of snuff tobacco
tickled my senses as he offered 1t gen.
orally.
"'Tis excellent stuff" he remarked.
Ripe Rip-Rap. What? None of you?
All, then"
He busted pinch under his nos
trils, inhaled and daintily used his
handkerchief, lace-edged morsel
such as women carry.
My father leaned forward across
the table, blaze of hatred in his face.
"'Tis true, Them
Murray regarded him in some sur
prise.
''True? My dear sir, 1 assured you
twas Rip-Rap."