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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 29, 1904)
THE FATAL REQUEST ORF O U N D OUT By A. L. Harrie Author of "Mine Own Familiar Friend,” e»c. Copyright, 1691, by V a t t e l l /‘ublithing Company. Copyright, 1 9 o it , by Strrtt <f Smith. CHAPTER XVII.—Continued. •‘I’ve been dreaming.” lie said to hiruself. “I thought everything hail been made quite clear to me about—" •Was he dreaming still, or was there some one in the room beside himself? Some one sitting before the writing table and bending forward as though -. The figure had a pen in its blind, but it made no sound as It traveled over the paper! The next moment it had raised its head so that he >aw the face, "it Is the continua tion of my dream." he said, ard rub bed his eyes. lie looked again. There was nothing there. "How does that chair come to lie there, in its old place? I thought 1 had pushed it back against the wall, and I hate no recollection of moving it again. It is very strange.” He rested his hand upon the back of the chair. Oh, it was real enough. There was no mistake about it. Hut lie could have sworn he had never moved—Ah. what in heaven's name was that? A simple enough thing, surely, to cause so much amazement and—what?—surely not fear—in the beholder. Only a pen lying upon the blotting pad. beside a sheet of paper. But the pen was wot, and there were fresh words added to those he had himself written before lie fell asleep. 'I he sheet of paper was the one upon which he hail written those vague and disconnected phrases, which hail caused him so much per plexity and unprofitable speculation. Tney had been written irregularly, just in the same order that they had occupied on the mutilated sheet, with blank spaces between each broken sentence. Now each blank space had been filled in. and it was with per fectly indescribable sensations that he read the copy as it now stood: "If you have not forgotten the friend of twenty years ago. you will, on receiving this letter, start at once for Dover, which place 1 expect to reach to-morrow morning. There is sisted of only a few lines, but those few lines seemed to afford him con siderable satisfaction, judging by the play of his features. Indeed, to the ! two who were watching him, it seem ed as though the expression whicli J overspread his face were almost one of triumph. “Doctor." he said, “will you excuse me a moment ? 1 have to send an answer to this by the bearer." He s[K)ke rapidly, and still that spirit of elation was perceptible In his words and actions, lie seemed quite to have cast ofT that air of abstraction which had characterized his demean or previously. He quitted the room leaving hts sister and friend tete-a tete. “Now," said the latter to himself, “do it. Jeremiah! Now's your chance. Make yourself agreeable for once in your life. But don't forget that you were forty-four last, birthday, and you look it, every bit. Ahem! I suppose I you arc very much attached to your brother, Miss Burrltt?" "Attached to him?" was the ex | clamation. "Of course I am!" ‘ Exactly so—and I m sure Us very 1 much to your credit. Your brother ! seems hardly to be himself. I don't ! remember that he was as nervous and | shaky, as he appears to be now', when ; I first, met him—though he had a lot | to try him, and—” She put her finger upon her lips and gave a nervous glance at the door before she answered, sinking her , voice to a whisper. •'He has been like that ever since the funeral. He goes and shuts him ■ self up for hours, and 1 know that he I is always thinking of that man who , killed my father, and planning how j he can hunt him down and bring him I to the gallows. 1 don’t mind telling I you. because I know 1 can trust you; j but"—leaning across the table toward I him—"1 can’t help feeling sorry some , times for—that other man!" i "My dear young lady! I agree with The figure had a pen in its hand. that between ns which I think will not allow you to deny this favor which I ask. I have much to say to you and many questions to put which you alone can answer to my satisfaction. It you refuse 1 shall think, rightly or wrongly, that you still regard me more as the criminal than what I once was, the friend of your youth. "J.—" The young man read this through. Who had written it? Whose hand had completed the broken sentences, and given them the meaning which they had heretofore lacked? Con In lie have done it himself, while in a state of somnambulism? No; for the hand writing was not his! At a glance, lie could distinguish the words which he had written himself. The words over whicli lie had labored and perplexed his soul. The words which had seemed to cast a slur upon the memory of his dead father—which w’as now removed. He turned the sheet over. There, on the other side, were those words, the last probably his father ever wrote: “My dear-” together with date, "April 23rd." He looked again at those mysteri ous sentences, upon which the ink still glistened. They were written in the same hand! CHAPTER XVIII. The Advertisement. Next morning a petty ol' three were assembled at breaklast. "You don't seem to have much of an appetite this morning." remarked Dr. Cartwright, addressing his host, who appeared rather distraught, with a tendency to start when spoken to. “How's that?" The young man replied, as he fid geted with his knife and fork, “That he didn't seem to care to eat any thing. somehow.” At this moment there was an inter ruption. A maid presented herself with a letter which tied just come by hand, and gave it to her young mas ter. stating at the same time, that ttie bearer wrs waiting for an answer. A letter! and come by hand! He started -.gnin as though tie had been shot, and the doctor noticed that his hard v;ent up to the breast liocket of his coat, as though there were something there lie— The doctor shook his head as he made this observation. Ted Burritt took the letter held out to him, glanced at the superscription and lore it open, tt apparently con every word you have said, and I am much flattered by the confidence you have shown in me. But I’m afraid it's no use talking to him. I was the same at his age.” he continued, “but at forty-four one sees things dif ferently." "Are you forty-four. Dr. Cart wright?" she inquired. Innocently. “Then you are not quite a quarter of a century older than 1 am. 1 shall be twenty next month.” “1 wish 1 hadn't been in such a devil of a hurry to be born,” thought the doctor: "I wish I had waited another ten or fifteen years or so. I wish she'd got red hair and a squint, or that I was cut out after a different pattern myself.” hater In the morning he paid a visit to the lady of the house. She sat up in bed to receive him. with her Indian shawl over her shoulders, and allowed him to feel her pulse in the friendliest possible way. But when Dr. Cart wright had left the room, he shook his head and remarked to himself. “Un less I’m very much mistaken, that woman is dying of just nothing at all.” “Doctor." said Ted Burritt. meeting him at the foot of the stairs, “I am afraid I shall have to leave you for an hour or two—a little matter of business, you know.” ' Don’t hurry back on my account, i sha'n't miss you in the least! He's off! I'll just go and-No. he isn't. Why. what's he coming back for? For gotten something?” "I vo dropped a letter—the one 1 re- i celved this morning. 1 thought I put it in my pocket, but it isn't there. I suppose you haven't seen anything of the kind lying about?"—he east a hasty glance round him. but, not see ing it—"Never mind," he said. "After all. it is not of much consequence, and 1 know the contents." The door hanged again and he was gone. A few moments later his sister crossed the hall. "I wonder what the doctor's doing?1 she said. "It is very rude of us to leave him to himself iu this way. What's that?" Her eye had been caught by some thing white, lying on the mat at her feet. She picked it up and saw that '.t was a letter, the contents of which merely consisted of a couple of lines, as follows: "Dear Sir—The luggage has been claimed. Can you call upon me at 11 o’clock this morning'.' Yours obediently, ‘ JOHN SHARP." • • • • * Dr. Cartwright did not return home hy the first train next day. The mere mention, on his part, of such a pur pose being scouted as preposterous by his entertainers. “I thought you spoke of three days at the least as the length of your visit,” said his host; “and 1 want to have a long talk with you to-day if you don’t mind." 1 “Mind!” said the doctor, “it’s just what I should like." They were at breakfast when this occurred, and the morning paper had just been brought in. Ted Burritt had been glancing over its columns in a careless way. with the air of one who feels certain that they are not likely to contain anything to interest him. when, turning the sheet, his at tention was accidentally caught and held by something which appeared among the advertisements. There he sat. his mouth slightly open, and a vivid spot, caused , by excitement or some other feeling, on each cheek. “Anything very remarkable in the paper this morning?” asked the doc tor. with an affectation of Indiffer ence; but noticing every change in the countenance before him from be hind his spectacles. This remark re called the other to himself. He seem ed annoyed that he had betrayed his feelings so openly, and crumpling up the paper, threw it on one side before answering: “Nothing whatever.,There is absolutely no news worthy of the name!” “Now,” thought the doctor, “is he deliberately telling an untruth, or what? Oh. certainly! I must get to the bottom of this!” Aloud he merely observed, “There never does seem to be much in the papers nowadays. Now, when I was in the 47th, etc.” Notwithstanding this last remark, he did not forget to take an early oppor tunity of examining the paper. "I wish 1 had noticed which page it was,” he said to himself, as he ran his finger down each column in suc cession. But I don't see anything like ly to account for the boys's peculiar behavior. Oh. here you are,” as the door opened. “Think of the devil, you know, and - Hullo! you look very much excited about something! What is it?” “I am excited,” was the answer. “And you’ll be excited, too, when you have heard all I have to say.” Dr. Jeremiah stared at the young man in astonishment. Then, "All right,” he said, “fire away and aston ish me as much as you like.” “Not here,” he answered, “I want you to come with me to the room that was my father’s study, and where we shall be sure of not being disturb ed, as I kcpp the key myself, and never allow any one to enter it.” They crossed the hall; Ted unlock ed the door; they entered, and he lock ed it again behind them. Dr. Cartwright looked round him with considerable interest. He notic ed the dust, now lying thicker than ever upon every object, small and great. He dusted a chair with his pocket handkerchief before venturing to stt down. Then he took off his spectacles and ixdished them care fully. “Now." he said, as he settled himself. "I’m quite ready to be aston ished.” “You asked me a moment or two back whether I had found the other man?" said Ted—“meaning, of course, the murderer. I have.” “Quite sure?” said the doctor, still preserving his equanimity. “1 will give you the whole story from the day we parted. You know all that went before.” He began with the account of the burnt letter; and the little doctor lis tened with an interest he found im possible to disguise. “It’s a sad pity it should have been so nearly des troyed," was the first, remark he made, “because, of course, it is im possible to tell now what the rest of the contents might have been.” (To be continued.) MISTAKEN IN THE DIAGNOSIS. Doctor’s Error Affected the Size of His Pocketbook. Albert Levering, the black-and white artist responsible for so many “comios,” used to live in Chicago, but lecently transferred his allegiance to New York. He took his hypochon driacal tendencies with him and they are still in good working order. His favorite pastime is to read of some deadly disease, preferably a new one. go to bed imagining he has it, lie av ake all night, seek his doctor in the morning and get assurance that be is in perfect health, and then go back cheerfully to work. One morning not long ago he turned up at the doctor's just as the man of medicine was getting into his car riage. "I’m in a hurry,” called the doctor, "and can't stop to see you. but it's all right—you haven't got It.” "Haven’t got what?' demanded the astonished artist. ’’Whatever it is you think you've got. Not a symptom of it. Good bye.” and he drove away. "Well, now,” said Levering, turning to a lamp-post as the only witness of ‘he scene, “that's the time he's mis taken. I know 1 have got it—ten dol lars in my pocket to pay his last bill; but if he's sure 1 haven't I'll try tr get in line with his diagnosis,” am he went around to the nearest jun« shop ami invested the money in a pair of brass candlesticks and a cop per kettle.— Philadelphia Post. Russian Doctors. Russia is very short of doctors, hav ing only eight for every 100,000 inhab Hants. Great Rritain has 180 for the same number. *♦♦♦♦♦•♦♦♦•♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦•♦ ♦ KANSAS CITY GIRL WHO HAS { : WON HIGH FAVOR IN ENGLAND l ♦ _t T2153 EZ/ZA£E77f mp/r/AOcyv London correspondents point, out an unusual honor for an American singer in the three-year contract made hy the C'ovent Garden opera in London with Miss Elizabeth Parkinson. Miss Park inson is the daughter of Judge John D. Parkinson of Kansas City. She made her musical debut in Paris a little over a year ago. and a few months later appeared with success as Lakme in a grand production at the Opera Comique. WON CAMPAIGN WITH BULL. How New York Assemblyman Secured His Seat. Much surprise was evinced when the young millionaire Robert Win throp Chanler defeated Major Francis G. London in the race for the New York assembly. The explanation may he found in a story which seems to indicate that Mr. Chanler either lias a good idea of practical politics or is being guided by a veteran at the game. Everything was going well with Major London's campaign, despite his unpopular move in declaring against the acceptance of Pullman passes, when Mr. Chanler invested $5,000 in a prize bull, which he invited all of the tarmers of the district to call at his place and view. The ruralists went into raptures over the bill!, and when they expressed a wish that they might own such an animal Mr. Chanler promptly presented each with a card giving him an Interest. These cards were distributed without discrimina tion to all raisers of cattle, and the prize bull became the common prop erty of the county. Against this sort of competition Major l.andon's light was hopeless. “THE HEALTH OF THE SICK." Witty Toast Proposed by New York State Senator. Senator Sullivan of New York was recently the guest at a banquet of homeopathic physicians. During the banquet the usual toasts were drunk. To the health of "the ladies,” of "the president,” of Hahnemann, the father of homeopathy.” and of a dozen other persons and subjects glasses were trained duly, and then, all of a sud len, the toastmaster remarked that 'he witty Senator Sullivan had not yet responded to a toast. “Senator Sulli van.” he said, rising, "has not yet been heard from. Senator Sullivan will now propose a health." The Sena tor arose and beamed upon the assem blage of physicians. “1 propose," he said, “the health of the sick." CHARITIES TO BE KEPT UP. Forecast of John D. Rockefeller’s Last Testament. It leaked out the other day through the statement of a prominent business man of New York city, whose ac quaintance with John D. Rockefeller is a close one, that tlie terms of the Rockefeller will are so drawn that the numerous charities to which he now contributes regularly will receive the same benefits yearly as they do now. It isn't known whether this will in clude the University of Chicago or not, but it does include scores and scores of institutions and private charities which are kept alive largely by the generosity of Mr. Rockefeller, and of which the world at large knows but little. Left Lands of Unknown Value. The personal property of the late George M. Wakefield, mining operator and speculator of Milwaukee, Is worth $123,699.40, according to the report of tin* appraisers made to the county court. How much the real estate is worth is not known, as the appraisers «ere unable to determine tlie values, there being 1.1X6 acres of mining land in Michigan and thirty acres in Mari nette county. Would Change Term of Cffice. Assemblyman Newcomb lias intro duced in the New York legislature a bill providing that after the close of McClellan s term the mayor of New York shall remain in office four years instead cf two. Mr. Newcomb at pres ent contents himself with saying that it municipal and national politics are to be divorced in New York it is evi dent that mayoralty elections the year before the presidential contest must be abandoned. SPLIT IN NOTED SOCIETY. Women Leave Organization on Ques tion of Divorce. ' An organization of Catholic women was formed in New York city recent ly which had for its object, among other things, suppression of the di vorce evil. Miss Annie Leary, a lead ing member of the 400, a personal friend of Mrs. Astor and a pupal countess, was one of the principal movers in the new enterprise, but it is understood she and Mrs. Frederick Neilson. also one of the leading wom en of the Catholic laity of the United States, have withdrawn from the so ciety, the reason bping that a rule was recently adopted that all mem bers pledge themselves to abjure the society of divorced persons. Miss Leary numbers among her friends Mrs. Oliver H. P. Belmont and other notable divorcees. Mrs. Neilson, the mother of Mrs. Hollis Hunnewell, who recently divorced Arthur I. Kemp and wus remarried soon afterward, followed suit. WORSTED IN WITTY CONTEST Young Society Woman Got the Best of Chauncey Depew. Chauncey Depew was badly worsted the other afternoon in a contest of wit with a young society woman of Wash ington. The two had been waging a fairly even battle until the Senator ventured to praise a certain young woman who for some time has been endeavoring to work her way into ex clusive society. The youthful matron with whom Chauncey was conversing does not view this aspiration with favor, and he was aware of the fact. “You must admit," said he, "that Mrs. Blanks’ crudeness is disappearing. 1 should certainly say that she is rising in the social scale.” “Oh, dear me. yes,” was the reply, “she is snubbed by a better class of people every time she appears. To that extent at least the poor thing is making progress.” A DIPLOMAT AND NOVELIST. South American Who Has Won Fame in Both Spheres. Dr. Eduardo Acevado Diaz, the new ly appointed minister from Uruguay, who has been sent to Washington to open a legation, is known in South America as a novelist of high repute. Not confining himself to running a newspaper as editor and dabbling In affairs of state, Senor Diaz found time to publish in Spanish a large number of romances of thrilling interest. Most of these stories have all the interest of Spanish love tales and are typical of South America, taking high mark in the lighter literature of that coun try. Lady Minto’s Long Journey. I>ady MInto, who recently returned to Ottawa after an enjoyable visit to Japan, has covered a good many thou sands of miles since she took up her abode at government house. It was only quite recently that she and her husband made the journey from Ot tawa to Montreal, a distance of 120 miles. In Canadian canoes. The party, which comprised eight persons, pad died by day and camped in the woods at night, the arrangements generally being of the simplest und least luxu rious description. Claus Spreckels' Vow. When Claus Sprekels left the Sand wich islands some ten years ago he said he should not return until Queen Uliukalani had won her throne back, or. failing that, until grass should bo growing in the streets of Honolulu. As there is no prospect of either of these events happening, it is probable that the splendid Spreckels mansion in Honolulu will remain vacant until the owner dies. Half a dozen servants have been in charge of the place for ten years. PROUD SHIP WAITED. WHILE LONGSHOREMEN SHOWED RESPECT FOR COMRADE. Story of How a Great Ocean Liner Strained at Her Dock While Work men Attended Funeral of One of Their Brotherhood. Once upon a time an ocean liner had to wait five hours for a man. The man was only a dock hand. His name was Jim. The story amazed me. It was re peated by several men before I could believe it. For of all things under heaven there is nothing more symbolic of power and wealth and the rising surge of a whole world’s commerce than an ocean liner. The ship must sail! Men strained day and nights on the docks—often thirty hours without sleep—to load late rush cargoes of freight. Men toil In a turmoil of tumbling crates and barrels, of huge loads swung by derricks. Men slip and are maimed; some are killed and forgot ten. The ship goes on! The ship must sail. In this case it had to wait, and for a dock hand. It. happened two years back. Tho B-was unloading Jim was fat down in the bottom of the hold. Hvery few seconds the daylight was almost! blotted out. by a great mass of cargo' dragged twisting and turning up sixty feet to the deck above. Presently a massive mahogany log, weighing seven tons, was to be raised, and Jim helped fasten the rope. A comrade signaled by the wave of his arm to the men far above. The great derrick strained. The rope tightened. Jim gave a short, startled cry. The signal had been given too soon. He was wedged in between the huge logi and the steel side of the hold, and was crushed to death in an instant. The legal term for this is ‘'contribu tory negligence." On the docks each year brings scores of deaths and hun dreds of accidents. Most of them are legally due to “negligence,” and the man gets no damages. Still even a “negligent” man must be allowed to live. His wife and his little children must not starve. And so on pay day you will find at most dorks a box by the pay window, into which the big hearted longshoremen drop part of their pay for the sake of a comrade maimed in the week’s Ir regular surge of commeree. So Jim's funeral expenses were paid by the men. Fortunately he' had no family. Jim was young, In his early twenties, with a kind heart and a cheery wit that had already been felt and loved by his three hundred com panions. lie was killed on Saturday. His fun eral was to come Tuesday morning. On Tuesday morning the great ship must sail. It must he loaded. Suddenly there occurred to some one a startling, unheard of Idea. “The ship can wait!" Once started, this heresy was hotly discussed. It spread with lightning speed. It met with amazing success. Not a man could be found on the dock Tuesday morning. The great ocean liner was delayed five hours, simply by the death of one “negligent’’ longshoreman, whose 300 mates loved him well enough to attend the funeral, even though it should have cost them their jobs.— Ernest Poole in Chicago American. ——— 1 1 » WHAT THE STARS ARE. Chemical Matter la the Same in All the Twinkling Lights. In concluding a valuable series of articles on the "Chemistry of the Stars,’’ A. Fowler writes as follows: "Notwithstanding the divergence of opinion on some points, there is a general acquiescence in the view that the matter composing the stars is essentially the same as that with which we are acquainted on the ■a rth. "This leading idea is admirably ex pressed by Sir William and l.ady Huggins In the following passage in tbeir ’Atlas of Representative Stellar Spectra': 'As the conclusion of the whole matter, though there may be no reason to assume that the propor tions of the different kluds of chemi cal matter are strictly the same in all stars, or that the roll of chemical elements is equally complete In every Uar, the evidence appears to be strong that the principal types of star spectra should not be Interpreted as produced by great original differences of chemical constitution, but rather as successive stages of an evolutional progress, bringing about such altered conditions of density, temperature and mingling of stellar gases as are suffi cient presumably to account for the spectral differences observed, even though with our present knowledge * complete explanation may not be forthcoming.’ "Investigations are still in progress in many lands, and it is not too much to expect that sooner or later the story of celestial evolution will be completely elucidated.’’—Knowledge. The Wheat Song. •‘Brothers, brothers, ‘tls dark down here— Brothers, brothers, o feel the sun," Whispers the wheat beneath our feet.’ In the glow of life begun. "Brothers, brothers, the light fs good— Brothers, brothers, my sap runs strong ' Murmurs each Made by the warm wind swayed. In an endless whispering song. “Brothers, brothers I’m fair and strong— Brothers, brothers, I'm crowned with gold." Whispers the wh at with its task com plete. And the tale of its labors told. ‘‘Brothers, brothers, the earth was dark: Brothers, brothers, the world is fair— But we Struggled on and we gained a crown Which arch of us may wear." —Klmir B. Mason in The Reader.
