The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917, January 29, 1904, Image 3

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    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.