____THE_— Story of Francis Cludde A Romance of Queen Mary's Reign. BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. * CHAPTER V.—CONTINUED. He had only gone a few yards wher f heard him cry out. The next Instant •Imoat running against him myself. 1 saw what had happened The womer (had craftily lain In wait for him In th« little court Into which the street ran •nd had caught him as neatly as could be. When I came upon them, the taller woman was standing at bay, with a passion thal was almost fury In her poay aad gesture. Her face, from which u>e hood of a coarse cloak had tUtorn back, was pale with anger. Her (ray eyes flashed. Her teeth glimmered. Oeetn« her thus, and seeing the bur 4cn she carried under her cloak, which tnsttnrt told me was her child, I thought or a tigress brought to bay. 'Tan lying knave!” she hissed. "You Jadaa!” Thai man recelled a couple of paces and He recoiling nearly touched me. “Wlmt would youT' she continued. •What do you want? What would you ■do? You have been paid to ,go. Go, aoto litre--# very great surprise, I think— -When I took three steps /forward and .(ripped him by the scruff of his neck. “Tou have your orders, have you?” tl mattered in Ms ear as I shook him to and fro. while the taller woman started budk and the younger uttered .* cry of uiairm at my sudden appear -aace. “Well you will not obey them. Do pern ’hear? Tour employer may go fba»K< You wilt do Just what these iIuMmi nlMan tA unit nf vein ’’ Me slruggtod an Instant, but be was ■as anfcwittd man. and he could not ■'toosns Che hold which I had secured *«t my Mistire. Then I noticed his hand isotaut to hip girdle in a suspicious way. '“flSfop that," I said, flashing before his •yes • short, broad blade which had eat many a deer’s throat In old Arden fomt “you had better keep quiet or ft will be the worse for you. Now. mistress.” 1 continued, “you can dispose of this little man as you please." “Who are you" she said after a ttourp, during which she stared at me to open astonishment. No doubt 1 was a wild tonkin* figure. “A .friend." 1 replied, **Q.r one who would be .owr*L I saw this fellow fel low yon, and I followed him. For the l«M ftoe minutes I have bees listening to your talk. He was not amenable to rgnson then, but 1 think he w’.!1 bo now. What shall I do with him: She smiled faintly, but did not an ower a once, the coolness and resolu ttoi with which she had faced him be toae- failing her now. possibly In sheet •sbontshnient or because my appear wince at her side, by removing th* strain, sapped the strength. “I do no •mow," she said at length in a vague ■Baled tone. "Well," I answered, “you are golnf to the Men wharf, and" *TOh, you fooJ!" she screamed ou bod- *T>h, you fool!" she repeatec bitterly. * Now you have told htn nil" I stood confounded. My cheeks burnei with Mia me. and her look of contemp cut me like a knife. That the reproaol yras deserved I knew at once, for th gnan tn my grasp gave a start, whlcl proaed that the Information was no fssr upon him. “Who told you.” th woman went on. clutching the 'chit Jealously to her breast, as though sh saw herself menaced afresh. "Wh total you about the Hon wharf?" “Never mind." I answered glnomllj "1 have made a mistake, but It is eas to remedy tt.” And 1 took out m knife again. "Do you go on and leav tu»" B hardly know whether I meant m ehrrat or no. But my prisoner had n -doubts. He shrieked oi*«Sa wild cr of flwur which rang rouTjH'Vhe e»pt •court—anil by a rapid Blew, despa «lvi»*r 'Win courage, he dashed tli Bunting knife from my hand. Th done, be £t1rst flung himself on nv then tried by a sudden Jerk to fr* btmeelf. fr. a moment we were dow on the stones and tumbling over or •nother in the dih, while he struggle to reach Ilia knife, which was still I htn cindlc and I strove to prevent htn 'The fight was sharp, but It lasted ban Bjr •• minute. When the tlrst effort ■ his deepalir was spent. I came uppe most, and lie was but a child in m hands. t’reaently, with my knee t Mb cheat. I looked up. Tiie worn* | were still (here The younger clinging j I to the other. , "Go' Go!" I cried Impatiently Each second 1 expected the court to he In vaded, for the man had screamed more j than once. But they hesitated. I had been forced j to hurt him a little, and he was moan ! Ing piteously. "Who are you?” the eld er woman asked, she who had spoken all through. “Nay. never mind that," I answered. "Do you go. Go while you can. You know the way to the wharf.” “Yes,” she answered. "But I cannot go and leave him at your mercy. Re member he Is a man and has" "He Is a treacherous scoundrel,” I answered, giving his throat a squeeze, "but he shall have one more chance. Listen, sirrah," I continued to the man, "and stop that noise, or I will knock out your teetti with my dagger hilt. Listen and be silent. 1 shall go with these ladies, and f promise this—If they are stopped or hindered on their way, or If evil happens to them at that wharf, whose name vou had better for get, It will be the worse fer you. Do you hear? You will suffer for It, though there may be a dozen guards about you. Mind you," L added, "t have nothing to lose myself, for I am desperate already." He vowed, the poor craven, with his stuttering tongue, that he would be true and vowed it again and again. But I saw that his eyes did not meet mine. They glanced Instead at the knife blade, and I knew even while I pretended to trust him that he would betray us. My real hope lay In his fears and in this—that as the fugitives knew the way to the wharf, and it could not now be far distant, we might reach it and go on board some vessel— l had gathered they were tieelng from Ihe country—before this wretch could recover himself and get ti>gether a force to stop us. That was my real hope, and In that hope only l left him. We went as fast as the women could walk. I did not trouble them with ques tions. Indeed I had myself no more leisure than enabled me to notice their general appearance, which was that of comfortable tradesmens women folk. Their cloaks and hood® were plainly fashioned and of coarse stuff, thetr shoes were thick and no jewel or scrap of lace peeping out betrayed them. , Yet there was something In their car riage that could not be hidden, some thing, which to 'iny eye, told tales, so that minute by minute I became more sure that tills was really an adven ture worth pursuing, and that London had' kept a reward in store for me be sides its cold stones and inhospitable streets. The city was beginning to rouse itself. As we flitted through the lanes and alleys which lie between Fheapside and ] the liver we met many people, chiefly , of the lower classes, on their way to work. Yet in spite of this we had no , need to fear observation, for. though the morning was fully come, with the , light had arrived such a thick, choking. , yellow fog as I, being for the most part, country bred, had never exper ienced. It was so dense and blinding that we had difficulty In keeping to- * gether and even hand In hand could scarcely see one another. In my won der how my companions found their way 1 presently failed to notice their condition and only remarked the .lis- , tress and exhaustion which one- of them j was suffering when she began, notwith standing ail her efforts, to lag behind. Then I sprang forward? blaming my- . self much. "Forgive me," I said. "You are tired and no wonder. Let me carry the child, mistress.” Exhausted as she was, she drew away from me jealously. "No. she panted. "We are nearly there. 1 am better «ow." And she strained the child closer to her, as though she feared I might take it from het by force. “Well, if you will not trust me." I an swered. "let your friend carry it f®r a time, t can see you are tired out." Through the mist she bent forward and peered into my face, her eyes scarcely a foot from mine. The scrut iny seemed to satisfy her. She drew a long breath and held out her burden "No," she said. ”Y#u shall take him. I will I I'liai irmi " 1 took the little wrapped up thing as gently as I could "You shall not re pent It if I can help It, mistress" "Bertram." she said Mistress Bertram,"! repeated. "Now let us get on and lose no time." A walk of a hundred yards or so brought us clear of the houses and re vealed before us. In place of all else, a yellow curtain of fog. Below this at our feet, yet apparently a long way from us. was a strange, pale tine of shimmering light, which they tol?i me was the water. At flbst I could hardly believe this. But. pausing a moment while my companions whispered to gether. dull creaklngs and groanlngs and uncouth shouts and cries, and at last the regular beat of oars, came to my ears out of the bank of vapor and convinced me that we really had the river before us. Mtslress Bertram turned to me abruptly. "Listen.” she said, "and de cide for yourself, my friend. We are close to the wharf now. and in a few minutes shall know our fate. It Is possible that we may be intercepted at I this point, and If that happens It will | he bad for ipe and worse for any one 1 aiding me. You have done us gallant | service, but you are young, and 1 am I loath to drag you into perils which i Jo not belong to you. Take my ad , vice, then, and leave us now l would I could rewant you," she added hastily. [ “but that knave has my purse." I put the child gently back into her J arms, "tloodby." she said with more ( feeling. "We thank you. Some day I ; may return to England and have ample t potter” ; "Not so fast." I answered stiffly. 1 "Did you thlnV It possible, mistress, ? that 1 would desert you now? I gave j you back the child only becauce It might hamper me and will be safer with you. Coma, let us on at once to v the wharf." y "You mean it?" she said e "Of a certainty!" I answered, set tling my cap on my head with per y haps a boyish touch of the braggart, o i At any rate, she did not take me at y I once at my word, and her thought for y-1 me touched me the more because I r i Judged her—l know not exactly why— e | to be a woman not overprone to think a of others. "Do not he reckless" she 1 said slowly, her eyes Intently fixed on e j mine. "1 should be sorry to bring evil n upon you. You are but a boy." e "And yet." I answered smiling, "there d | Is as good as a price upon my head n ' already. I should be reckless If 1 staid >. I here. If you will take me with you, >- let us go. We have loitered too long if , already." •- She turned then, asking no questions, y | but sh“ looked at me from -time to ii time in a puzzled way. as though she u thought she ought to know me—as though r reminded her of some one Paying little heed to this then, I hur ried her and her companion down tc the water, traversing a stretch of fore shore strewn with piles of wood and •tacks of barrels and old rotting boats t.-e tween which the mud lay deep. For tunately it was high tide and we had not far to go. In a minute or two I distinguished the hull of a ship loom ing large through the fog, and a few more steps placed us safely on a float ing raft, on the far side of which the vessel lay moored. There was only one man to be seen lounging on the raft, and the neighbor hood was quiet. My spirits rose as I looked round. Is this the Whelp?" the tall lady asked. I had not heard the other open her mouth since the encounter In the court. "Yes. It Is the Whelp, madam," the man answered, saluting her and speak ing formally and with a foreign ac cent. "You are the lady who Is ex pected?" “I am," she answered, with author ity. "Will you tell the captain that I desire to sail immediately, without a moment’s delay ? Do you understand?" "Well, the tide is going out,” quoth the sailor dubiously, looking steadily Inti the fog, which hid the river, "It has just turned, it Is true. But as to sailing” Wile cut him short. “Go, go, man! Tell vour captain what I say. And let down a ladder for us to get on board." He caught a rope which hung over the side, and swinging himself up dis appeared. We stood below listening to the weird sounds which came off the water, the creeping and flappfng of masts and canvas, the whir of wings Ftnd shrieks of unseen gulls, the dis tant hail of boatmen. A bell In the city solemnly toiled eight. The younger woman shivered. The elder's foot tapped impatiently on the planks. Shut In by the yellow walls )f fog. I experienced a strange sense ->r solitude. It was as ff we three were alone in the world, we three who hadi •ome together so strangely. CHAPTER VI. We had stood thus for a few mo rn".its when a harsh voice, hailing u» r, om above, put an end to our several houghts and forebodings. We looked JP. and I saw half a dozen ntghtcapped teads thust over the bulwarks. A rope adder came hurtling, down at our feet, md a man nimbly descending, held It iglit at the bottom,. "Now, madam " ■te said briskly. They all, 1 noticed ■uui the same foregln accent, yet all ipoke English, a singularity I did not inderstantl until I learned later that he boat was the Lion’s Whelp, trading >et ween London and Calais and canned from the later place. Mistress Bertram ascended quickly tn'l steadily, holding the baby In her inns. The other made some demur ingerlng at the foot of the ladder and ooking up as If afraid until her ■ompanlon chid her sharply. Then the, too, went up. but as she passed tie—I was holding one side of the adder steady—she shot at me from tnder her hood a look whichi disturbed, ne strangely. It was the first time I, had’ seen, her 'ace. and it was such a face as a man •nrely forgets, not because of its icauty, rather because it was a speak ng face, a strange and expressive one, vhirh the dark waving ha*r, swelling u thick clusters upon either temple leemed to accentuate. The features, were regular, but, the full ned lip. e*’ epted. rather thin than- shapely. The lose, too. was prominent. But tho ■yes! The eyes seemed to- glorify tile lark, flashing eyes, and uhein am lift teemed to me perpetually t» challenge; .1 allure and repulse and even to. toad. Sometimes they were gay... more ar-ly sad, sometimes soft arid' jgaln lard as steel. They changed: In a mo netit as one or another approached ter. But always at theta .gayest,, there vas a suspicion of weariness and1 atigue in their depths, on so I though* a ter. Something of this flashed tihmougts, ny mind as l followed her up the ihle. But once on board I glanced ■ound, forgetting her in the ritawxttv ny position. The Whelp was decked ’ore and aft only, the blackness anf the told gaping amidships;, spanned! by a tarrow gangway, which served no con tact the two decks. We found our ■elves in the fore part, amid: coils of ■ope and windlasses and water casks, ‘urtounded by half a dozen wild look tiR sailors wearing blue knitted frocks md carrying sheath knives at their rtrdles. The fore-most and, biggest of these teemed to be the captain, although, so far as outward appearances went, the only difference between him and bis crew lay In a marline spike which be wore slung to a thong beside his knife. When I reached the deck, he was tolling a tong story to Mistress Bertram, and telling it very slowly. But the drift of it I soon gathered. While the fog lasted he could not put to sea. "Nonsense!” cried my masterful companion, chafing at his slowness of speech. "Why not? Would it be dan gerous”" "Well, madam. It would be danger ous." he answered, more slowly than ever. "Yes, It would be dangerous. And to put to sea in a fog? That is not seamanship. And your baggage has not arrived." fContinumrl Mnvt Wa>L v Rooster Beats the Octopus. John Durvosky. living In a little shack on the right of way of the Great North ern railway, near South Superior, has not purchased a pound of coal this fall, nor does the speedy descent of winter hold any terrors for him, says the Duluth Herald. Ho has solved the vexing problem of sup plying hlfnself with fu$l without cost. His back fence Is not a good stone's throw from the car tracks. This led to hie expense saving device. One day he happened to notice some of the brake man heaving chunks of coal at a fleeing canine. He was selied with an Inspira tion. He immediately rigged up a stufTed rooster. The decoy for the flying missiles from the hands of the brakeman was se curely tied on the back fence. The roost er has weathered many a storm of falling coal, but continue to bring home the chunks of anthracite ani the nuggets from the valley of the Lehigh. Of course. It fhe inanimate rooster were netcr to tall a victim to the shots of the brakles some suspicion might attach to Its being a live one. Once the word was out that the odd specimen of chlckenhood on the back fence was not of flesh and blood, the rain of coal would cease, and Durvosky would again be beset with the trials and tribulations that sag at the purtS of the average citizen, tie has pro vided tor such ati occurrence. Attached to the steel reinforced nelthei Ijmbs of the fowl is a spring. Attached to this spring Is a little Durvosky, at the ,most opportune moment, when the hail ol anthracite Is falling thickest. Like the defaulters of an earthen redoubt, whe snuggle In holes of the earth, away fron the bursting sehrapnel. so one of thie little Durvoskys will lie hi a shelter under the lee of the fence, and work t-he spring while the Improvised coal bln is reaping the harvest of the failing coal. So, while the average househelder ane family man scans anxiously the price o coal and reads with gnashing of teeth o I the machinations of the coal octopus Johu Durvosky goes quietly on his way | confident that the inanimate rooster a::. 1 the tittle Durvoskys have stolen a mate! { ott the fuel oomb.natlou. It was only a question of weeka. pos I sibly months. You will guess. If yo read a little way, and the details of th matter are of small concern to th world. Still, Tom Morlelgh was fa from thinking that Drusie was as goo* as his, although he had read her heart as he thought, a long way. Like mos of his gender in such cases, he revellei for a while In the placid belief tha when the time came she would be hi for the asking. The shock of dialilusioi came when he offered his hand. He prompt rejection gave him a new' polw of view in regard lo women, but 1 did not hint for a moment that th' cause was lost. "It's the old story." h told himself; "I was too sure.” The In ctdeilt stirred his sporting blood! am made him resolve to win her by play ing a stronger game. In due season there was a second' pro posal, and a third came In quick order Each met with a definite negative Upon his second sally Drusie bestowet a charitable smile, and remarked "Please, Jack, don’t be silly.” The nex time he tried it she was not so patient "You seeni'delermlned to spoil our sum rater," she said, as though she was ac cutting him of a black conspiracy 1 — " ---- - bounder wins! By Jove! It isn't riglrt i at all! What in thunder does she sea * in hlniT" and more of this tenor until * he drove under his own port-coehere and threw the reins to his man. 1 A noble grove of pines at the east end ■ of his place was bordered by a lane 1 high hedged with osage. On Its other 1 side stretched the level pasture lands [ that belonged to Drusle's mother. The > lane wound Its way to the bay shore, i and Jack was often seen there In the ' days that followed with a trio of dogs * frolicking about him It was remark i able how often he took those dogs for ■ exercise and a bath since the day that ; the maid said Drusle was not In and he heard the mucker laughing In her I' drawing room. Usually he kept an eye ■ cocked over the Gralller hedge—one had to be pretty tall for that—In the hope of ■ seeing, her, for it was In the field she sauntered' now and then, when the cows were dining somewhere else. I Had he looked todayas usual hewould have saved' Drusie a blgjscare, But their engagement would not have been an nounced s» soon. The cowherd was the primary cause. He did not see her in that Held, of course, w'hen he opened [ the gate and let In the bunch of milk — '"'Really, If you persist, there 1b nothing tor mamma and I but to go to the (mountains at once. Have you. anry idea how rude you are?” One of the tasks a man soon tires of Is fruitless proposing. Romance and reality have known many noble- e-xcep ,'tions. Morlplgh was not cut cwait for a seat in their hall of fame He answered her last question, too brusquely, of course, but love and hate are ever wait ing upon one another. "Have yiau any idea what a heartless ffilrt you. are?' were his words, tt was Deusie's ere for tears, and she took it copiously, making the while a hurried exit, or rather an entrance tlirough the French window. Mot.-leigh remained! standing o» the veranda a moment, and. thanks t* his changing point of view, took new heart. He began to- pat himself for his keen penetration. '•Those tears are alt right." he said, gleefully, i'll have another go.” The da,y came,, and he looked In at ^'Elnt wbod," b«t the maid, with'blighting, alacrity, announced that Miss Orailier was not in. As she said It, a man's laugh that he knew well and detested plagued his ear. It came loudly, ag gressively, It seemed to him. from the dining room. "Even that mucker would not sit aria guffaw to himself,” he reasoned. "Of course she’s with hS»i." Despite the new eyes with which he had begun to survey womankind, the outlook seemed serious, even hopeless. He climbed into his trap and drove down the avenue of elms, convinced that he was cast for the role of one who had loved and lost. "And that FINDER OF 1S ASTEROIDS. Patient Setting of Photographic Traps to Catch the Unwonted Visitors. From the Boston Post. Or.e of the most successful discover ers of asteroids in America is a young astronomer who has graduated but eight years ago from Amherst college, and is now Instructor and serving as tronomer of Princeton university. He Is Raymond Smith Dugan, of Mon tague, Mass., who has the fame of finding no less than fifteen aster oids. Most people would Imagine that this infers principally good eyesight and ability to sit out in cold observa tories on dark nights. In ambush for any hapless asteroids that might be Incautiously loflng about. But as such work Is so largely done by photography, the successful aster oid pursuer wins through patience and a good head for mathematics. It is a matter of patie t setting of photo graphic traps to catch unwonted vis itors among the heavenly company, snd a long search through these pic tures after a'ny Intruders that may h^T? wandered In. Then there conies the Interminable calculation of orbits to determine whether the new-comer Is some pre vious acquaintance or an untagged stranger, though this may not be done by the observer. Mr. Dugan took a B. A. at Amherst college in 1899. an M. A. at the same institution in 1902, atd from 1899' to 1902 he was acting director of the ob servatory at the Syrian Protestant college at Beirut. Syria. He then be came first assistant astronomer ut the grand ducal astro-physical obser vatory at Konlg?tuhl. Heidelberg, tak ing the .degree of Ph. D. at Heidelberg university in 1905. Mr. Dugan was al so In charge of the photographic work -for the Dick eclipse expeaitton to Spall in 1905. The name Montague given the as ' teroid for Mr, Dugan's home, lias re --— — * givers: but the cows saw Drusie, and straightway approached to make her acquaintance. This happened at about the moment that Drusie heard the bark of Jack's dogs, and knew that the mas ter was near at hand. The gray noses and swishing tails came nearer and nearer, and she pressed closer to the hedge, moving along with the frisking barkers on the other side. She could see him now and again through a nar row opening in the sage, and it was good to know that he was there. Pres ently one of the bold Jerseys was walk ing beside her and his tall almost brushed her back. This was her cue toi call for help, even upon a man who had bored her with his silly proposals. “Jack!” she cried. He started and. caught a glimpse of her Use skirts be tween the hedge rifts. “Jack:" came her voice again. "I am—1 am at home today. Won’t you look in—Jump in— ,over the hedge—quick—I’ve something to tell you.” It was an impossible leap, but there are more things than locksmiths that love laughs at. One Is a hedge fence when the man is determined and is not afraid of tom clothes and a scratched face. The dogs managed to dash through with him. peil-mell. and had a fine chase after the Jersey, who took to her heels at this rude Interruption of her friendly tete-a-tete with the maid. Somehow, their engagement Was under stood from that moment, and lie did not have to bore her by proposing. So you were right in guessing from the way Drusie carried on at the outset that it was only a matter of time—and golden opportunity. eently been submitted to the Reciiiu I stttut in Berlin, where the very la J borious asteroid computations are | /argely done, and has passed without objection. The celestial Montague is 1 about fifteen miles in diameter, and its force of gravity, as Mr. Dugan re marks, is not sufHeient1'for the inhabi tants to feel sure of staying ou the ground If a slight breeze is blowing. Every fifteen months It becomes visible to the larger telescopes for three or four months at a time, as a faint star of the twelfth magnitude. Its orbit hag a radius of 238 miles; and It ambles about the sun about once in four years. Tableau With a Moral. Dr. Albert E. Palmer, who won the blue ribbon at the recent Chicago Husband show, was talking to a reporter about mar riage. "Marriage will grow happier,” said Dr. Palmer, "as men learn to regard it more unselfishly. Men are still too /much like the savage. They still inclipeao consider their wives too much In the light of serv ants. "Why, not long ago at the seashore, do you know what 1 saw? I saw a little tableau that revealed lo me in miniature the chiefvcause of unhappy marriagea. “A little boy and a little girl were dig ging In the white sand with toy spadea and buckets. The little boy laid down his tools and said: •’ ’Clara, do you want to be mv wife?’ “ ’Yes.’ said the little girl, with a happy smllu. "The boy sat down on the sand and put up {his feet towards her •'Then,’ he said gruffly, take ofT my shoes and stockings.’ ” Perhaps the reason a woman is con tinually looktoig in a mirror is because she wants to see herself as others sea her. There has 1/ebn a revival of the whaling lndustiy. A few years ago me annual death had dwindled to ISO. . . 1 A Matter of High Politioa. London Tribune: One of the wittiest of Krigllsh peers Is Lord Longford, and he has also earned the reputation of being one of the worst dressed, in spite of the fact that for 20 years ho lias been in the Second Life guards. The story goes that a friend one* met him in Ireland garbed in a pair of continuations which were not on speak ing terms with his boots, and chaffed him mercilessly about the ".lucid in terval" that occurred between them. But ‘Tommy,” as Lord Longford is known to his intimates, In nowise dls j concerted, blandly explained that it wa» really a matter of high politics. “You see, my dear fellow, the breech-' es were made by a tailor who Is a rampant Orangeman, while the boots are the achievement of a Fenian cob bler so how can you expect ’em t» meet T” The Gypsy. Oh, she was most precious, as the Wind's' seif whs fair. What did l give her when I had her on my knee? i Red kisses for her coral lips and a red! comb for her hair. She took my gifts, she took my heart* and fled away from me. Oh. but she was fanciful. She found a savage mate; He scorned her, ho spurned* her, he drove* her from his door. She cuddled in his ingle nook and laughed1 at all his hate. She took his curses, took hla blows, and, never left him more. —Helen Hay Whitney, in (he April Metrw-i poll tan magazine. Consoled th