THE SEA-HAWK ]
n^SSaS&rwtm^. Part Two By Rafael Sabatini.
_ i
(Continued From Yesterday.)
"My word," he answered her in a
ringing voice.
"lour He,” she amended.
' . >o you suppose,” said he, "that
1 could not support my word by
proofs if called upon to do so.”
• Proofs?" She stared at him, wide
eyed a moment. Then he lip curled.
” Vnd that no doubt was the reason
of your flight when you heard that
tit" queen's pursuivants were coming
in response to the public voice to call
you to account "
lie stood at gaze a moment, utterly
dumbfounded. “My flight?” he said.
■ What fable's that?”
■ You will tell me next that you
d d not flee. That that Is another
false charge against you?”
' So,” he said slowly, "it w»s be
lt* ved I fled!”
,\nd then light hurst upon him, to
dazzle and stun him. It was so in
ivltahly what must have been be
lieved. and yet it had never crossed
ills mind. Oh the damnable simplic
ity of it! At another time his dis
appearance must have provoked com
ment and investigation, perhaps. But,
happening when it did, the answer
to it came promptly and convincingly,
and no man troubled to question fur
ther. Thus was Lionel’s task made
doubly easy, thus was his own guilt
made doubly sure In the eyes of all.
IPs head sank upon his breast. What
bad he done? Could he still blame
Posamund for having been convinced
by so overwhelming a piece of evi
dence? Could he still blame her if she
bad burned unopened the letter which
lie httd aent her by the hand of Pitt?
What else Indeed could any suppose,
but that he had fled? And that being
so, clearly such a flight must brand
him Irrefutably for the murderer he
was alleged to he. How could he
blame her If she had ultimately been
convinced by the only reasonable
assumption possible?
A sudden sense of ths wrong he
had done rose now like a tide about
him.
“My God!” he groaned, like a man
in pain. "My God!”
He looked at her, and then avert
ed his glance again, unable now to
endure the haggard, strained yet fear
less gaze of those brave eyes of hers.
"What else, indeed, could you be
lieve?” he muttered brokenly, thus
giving some utterance to what was
passing through his mind.
"Naught else but the whole vile
truth," she answered fiercely, and
♦ hereby stung him anew, whipped him
out of his sudden weakening back to
ins mood of resentment and vindic
tiveness.
.She had shown herself, he thought
In that moment of reviving anger, too
ready to believe what told against
him.
“The truth?” he echoed, and eyed
her boldly now. “Do you know the
truth when you see it? We shall dis
cover. For by Gotl’a light you shall
have the truth laid stark before you
now, and you shall find It hideous
beyond all your hideous Imaginings.”!
There was something so compelling
-
- I
now In his tone and manner that it
drove her to realize that some revela
tion was Impending. She was con
scious of a faint excitement, a re
flection perhaps of the wild excite
ment that was astir In him.
"Your brother,” lie began, "met his
death at the hands of a false weak
ling whom I loved, towards whom 1
had a sacred duty. Straight from the
deed he fled to me for shelter. A
wound he had taken lit the struggle
left that trail of blood to mark the
way he had come." He paused, and
his tone became gentler. It assumed
the level note of one who reasons Im
passively. "Was it not an odd thing,
now, that none should ever have
paused to seek with rertainty whence
that blood proceeded, and to con
sider that I bore no wound in those
days? Master Balne knew It, for I
submitted my body to his examination
and a document was drawn up and
duly attested which should have sent
the queen's pursuivants back to Lon
don with drooping tails had I been at
Penarrow to receive them.”
Faintly through her mind stirred
the memory that Master Balne had
urged the existence of some such
document, that In fact he had gone
so far as to have made oath of this
very circumstance now urged by Sir
Oliver; and she remembered that the
matter had been brushed aside as an
invention of the justice's to answer
the charge of laxity in the perform
ance of his duty, particularly as the
only co-witness he could cite was Sir
Andrew Flack, the parson, since de
ceased. Sir Oliver’s voice drew her
attention from that memory.
"But let that be," he was saying.
“Let us come back to the story itself.
I gave the craven weakling shelter.
Thereby 1 drew down suspicion upon
myself, and since I could not clear
myself save by denouncing him, I
kept silent. That suspicion grew to
certainty when the woman to whom
I was betrothed, recking nothing of
my oaths, freely believing the very
worst of me, made an end of our be
trothal and thereby branded me a
murderer and a liar In the eyes of
all. Indignation swelled against me.
The queen’s pursuivants were on their
way to do what the justices of Truro
refused to do.
"So far I have given you facts. Now
I give you surmise—my own conclu
sions—but surmise that strikes, as
you shall judge, the very bull’s-eye
of truth. That dastard to whom I
had given sanctuary, to whom 1 had
served as a cloak, measured my na
ture by his own and feared that 1
must prove unequal to the fresh bur
den to he cast upon me. He feared
lest under the strain of it I should
speak out, advance my proofs, and
so destroy him. There was the mat
ter of that wound, and there was
something still more unanswerable he
feared I might have urged. There
was a certain woman—a wanton, up
at Malpas—who could have been made
to speak, who could have revealed a
rivalry concerning her betwixt the
slayer and your brother. For the
affair In which Peter Oodolphin met
his death was a pitifully, shamefullv
sordid one at bottom.”
For the first time she interrupt'd
him. fiercely. "Ho you malign the
dead?”
"Patience, mistreaa,'’ he command
ed. "1 malign none. I speak the
truth of a dead man that the truth
may be known of two living ones.
Hear me out, then! I have waited
long and survived a de.-»l that I might
tell you this.
"That craven, then, conceived that
I might become a danger to him;
so he decided to remove me. He con
trived to have me kidnaped one
night and put aboard a vessel to be
carried to Barbary and sold there as
a slave. That Is the truth of mv
disappearance. And the slayer, whom
L had befriended and sheltered at my
own bitter cost, profited yet further
by my removal. Ood knows whether
the prospect of such profit was a
further temptation to him. In time
he came to succeed me in my poa
sessions, and at last to succeed me
even In the affections of the faithless
woman who ones had been my
affianced wife,”
At last she started from the frozen
patience In which she had listened
hitherto. "Do you say that . . . that
Lionel . . .?” she was beginning in a
voice choked by Indignation.
And then Lionel spoke at last
straightening himself Into a stiffly
upright attitude.
“He lies!” he cried. "He lies, Rosa
mund! Do not heed him.”
A wave- of color suffused the
swarthy face of Sakr-el-Bahr. A mo
ment his eyes followed her as she
moved away a ’step or two, then they
turned their blazing light of anger
upon Lionel. He strode silently across
to him, his mien so menacing that
Llopel shrank back In fresh terror.
Sakr-el-Bahr caught his brother’s
wrist In a grip that was as that of
a steel manacle. "We’ll have the
truth this night If we have to tear
it from you with red-hot pincers,” he
said between his teeth.
He dragged him forward to the mid
die of the terrace and held him there
before Rosamund, forcing him down
upon his knees Into a cowering atti
tude by the violence of that grip upon
his wrist. )
"Do you know aught nf the inge
nuity of Moorish torture?" he naked
him. “You may have heard of the
rack and the wheel ami the thumb
screw at home. They are instruments
of voluptuous delight compared with
the contrivances of Barbary to loosen
stubborn tongues.”
White and tense, her hands
clenched, Rosamund seemed to stiffen
before him.
"You coward! You cur! You craven
renegade dog!" she branded him.
Oliver released his brother's wrist
and heat his hands together. Without
heeding Rosamund he looked down
Lionel, who cowered shuddering at
his feet.
“What do you ssv to a match be
tween your fingers'.' Or do you think
a pair of bracelets of living fire would
answer better, to begin with'.’"
"Look up, dog," ho bade him, "Con
sider mo that man, anil see if you
know him again. Look at him, I
say!" And Lionel looked, yet since
clearly he did so without recognition
his brother explained: "His name
among Christians was Jasper Leigh.
He was the skipper you bribed to
carry me into Barbary. lie was taken
in his own toils when his ship was
sunk by Spaniards. Later he fell Into
my power, and because I forbore from
hanging him he is today my faithful
follower. I should bid him tell you
what he knows," he continued, turn
ing to Rosamund, "if I thought you
would believe hla tale. But since 1
am assured you would not, 1 will take
other means.” lie swung round to
Jasper again. "Bid All heat me a
pair of steel manacles In a brazier
and bold them In readiness against
tny need of them." And he waved
his hand.
Jasper bowed and vanished.
"The bracelet* shall coax confes
slon from your own lips, my brother.”
"I have naught to confess," pro
tested IJonel. "You may force lies
from me with your ruffianly tortures."
Oliver smiled. “Not a doubt but
that lies will flow from you more
readily than truth. Hut we shall have
truth, too, In the end, never doubt
it." He was mocking, and there was
n subtle purpose underlying his mock
ery. "And you shell tell a full story.*
he continued, "In all Its details, so
that Mistress Rosamund’s last doubt
shall vanish. You shall tell her how
you lay in wait for him that evening
In nodolphln park; how you took him
unawares, and . .
(To Bo Continued Tomorrow.)
Ain’t It a Grand and Glorious Feeling By Briggs
WHerJ. eue.«. i\NCC You lutRe
* L'TTH. TomOOY YoU'vjS
U/AMTtO SvioRT hair 8UT
MOTHeR JU$T COTCD LomG CURLS
- And That mothsr
Th«.ouj-5 a fit when You
insist on‘'putting
UP’* That lomG Wad
in High School days
*
- AMD Yi?AB» LATER iaJMEiv
You'Re MARRIED, and B0B8ED
hair if. im style Too A6ah0
have That Childish impulse
BuT rRiCMD HUSBamD vSAYJ
»r Yao oBby THat imPuL-SE
He VUit-l. Turk* You OUT
.
• AmD Thcm Two ybaR* later
Too Take Your lire in You* HanDJ
ano Get That BOB andEvprt
Owe including FRi£NO HUSBAND
ls Keen about it
New York
—Day by Day
V J
By O. O. McINTYRE.
New York. May 22.—Dan Carey's
fsinous old crutch store on the
Bowery has closed. The closing marks
nnother liigh spot in the Bowery up
lift. t'arey’s was the haven for beg
jars -,vho faked physical deformities.
^•■Stllt men’’ they were called.
'’.'tey also furnished bandages that
v ere tinted blood color. In the old
days the front part of his place was
a saloon, but with prohibition It was
n sawdust coated eatery. In the
hick room were crutches snd a few
Invalid chairs for rent.
t'arey charged 50 cents a day for
crutch rental and a dollar a day for a
w heel chair. Ilia largest profits, how
ever, came from the beggar's profits,
for he generally spent all he made
over the bar. t'arey was able to buy
the building in which he held forth.
it la said beggars are abla to make
more these days without simulating
deformities. When they ask for a
price of a drink they receive from BO
to 75 cents, whereas in the old days
Bowery liquor sold for B and 10 cents
a shot.
Even ths "dummy chucker” who
threw fake fits to excite sympathy
liaa disappeared. He finds his feigned
seizures lost motion. An extended
trembling hand will produce greater
results for New York since prohibition
knows the pang of a hangover.
The tattered old hum has given
way to tha rather natty seeker of
temporary alms. He accosts you not
ns "Hey, Jack!” but by a polite touch
on the arm. He is well dressed snd
shaved. He admits he has been over-j
indulging in liquor. He wants to!
freshen up and go back to hla job.
The beggar's eyes used to relesse
a freshet of woe. He hung hia head
and recited unlmaglned misery. Now
Tie looks you in the eye, gives you
the Impression of mere temporary mis
fortune and you hesitate to give htin
a dime. Mora than likely you feel
ashamed at the dollar.
Two young girls who have been
chasing the Broadway Ignis fatus—
Boy, the dictionary—have wound up
as hat check girls In a cheap Tenth
avenue cabaret. They tre trying to
earn enough money to return to their
homes in the south. They discovered
Brosdwny generous until the youthful
bloom hsd tarnished aryl then the ask
of a loan was met with a. snub. It
is Broadway’s age-old attitude toward
the good fellow. First sdmlratlon—
then sympathy.
Nearly every best selling novel in
♦ he past three years has been written
in New York and the characters sre
smsll town folk. In the New York
atmosphere sll the village folk seem
dull-minded clods. As s villager my
aelf I refuse to believe we are ss flat
as we are painted. In fact I believe
th<fre is more stupidity and oafish
ness to the square inch on Manhattan
Island than any place else tn the
world. Just this morning a clerk in
a hotel asked me if I knew the capital
of Omaha. And a laundry collector
the other day told me he was quitting.
He hsd to go out. west. Hts destina
tion w-ss Buffalo.
Thera is on# thing New York does
for Ihe country boy. It gives him a
self-assurance he could not acquire on
^Vlain street’. When the newness of
\ New York wears off he begins to see
that the town Isn’t surh-a much after
all. Nearly everybody who has ac
complished anything here was yanked
sway from the hualneaa end of a
plow. The garden ho# under the Man
haltan matantorphoais beromea a nst
tv walking stick snd that is about ail
thf change there Is.
(Copyright, lt24.ii
THE NEBBS It s the Ticket That Barney Gets That Counts. Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol He»
/vm GL AO vou C ALLE D -1 WAS
SOUMO ASLEEP IN THIS CHAIR
WHEN ThE &ELL RANG - if
GAVE ME A SHOCK -I THOUGHT
IT WAS THE ALARM CLOCK —
WHAT TIME WILL l MEET NOU 7
A LITTLE AFTER FlViE 7 -N£S
ALL R.IGWT
GOOD-HVC
(CopyrlgSf. TIit Bell SyndicittTiu )]
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- • - " ; ' _ - ■■ / i - -
Barney Google and Spark Plug THE LINE IS BUSY. Df«»" Th« Omaha fe. by Billy D«B«*k
/ Keep 'em -1
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\ WAvr* The /
V^ATTtBNCC^ 7o
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RPINr.IlMn IIP FATHFR SEE jiccs and Maggie in full Drawn for The Omaha Bee by McManus
DlMllVjli'Vj UI r r\ 1 riLl\ U. S. Patent Offlcn PAcE OF COLORS IN THE SUNDAY BEE (Ctopjrifht 1924)
FATHER-WH\ DON’T TOO
^iUCCETT tsOME PLACE
TO CO TRt*b SUMMER - , -
---—f*
TOO KNOW TOUR
MOTHER WOULDN'T
U'STEN to N1E • „_rW.
the COUNTRY HICE ^ r
&OT iT t> LOVEUT AT V
THE tEAXHORE • tjTl L L.
AH OVJTIMO IH THE 4
NOUNTWH6 VJOULE
—1 BE dLOROOt) - ,
.
'b'Tl LU - VO RATHER —
E>C- MEAtR, l_AKEb /T/T
FOR CAMOElMC* -\ET fill
EEXROOE l^> £>EAOTiroL ; [flj )
AT TH\t> TME Or THE ISST
—j TEA«. AMD - • ^
JERRY ON THE JOB Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hoban
m. 1 * * * 'r0*yri*ht 19*4'
►
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ABIE THE AGENT •Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hershfield
\ REASON \R1.E REQUEST.
Fvou KNCXaJ to me a pan/or, ^11
l monEV i cwe ; Please * ip |
\XTOO?ILELU= DON'T INTEND TO >
I ^ P«Y ME, AT LEAST, '
'. Stop REMiNCMNjjj
Vme oe it*!'
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