{T F{ffmcmc* of tht SpantahF/"WKjjN*-j (Xptain Rloop^m •!&r RAFAEL SABATINI (Continued from YtMrrdny.) ‘‘He desired," he said at last, ‘‘to give you a message that should prove to you that there is still something left In him of the unfortunate gen tleman that . . . that . . . for which once you knew him. It is not easy. Stab me, it is not. He was a man who deserved well. And amongst us we have marred his chances; your uncle, because he could not forget his rancour; you, because . . . because having told him that in the king's service he would find his redemption of what was past, you would not afterwards admit to him that he was so redeemed. And, this, although concern to rescue you was the chief motive of his embracing that same service.” She had turned her shoulder to him so that he should not see her face. His lordship's unusual nerv ousness was steadily increasing. "He thought, then—so he told me—that my presence here had contributed to his inability to redeem himself in your sight; and unless he were so re deemed, then was redemption noth ing." "He thought thnt you had contrib uted?" she echoed. "Aye, and he said so in terms which told me something that 1 hope above all things, and yet dare not bey* e for. God knows, 1 am no coxcomb, Arabella. He said ... I hail gone aboard his ship to demand the instant surrender of your uncle. He laughed at me. Colonel Bish9P should be a hostage for his safety. By rashly venturing aboard his shop. I afforded him In my own person yet another hostage as vnlunble at least as Colonel Bishop. Yet he bade me depart; not from the fear of consequences, for he is above fear, nor from any personal esteem for me whom he confessed that he had come to find detestable; and this for the very reason that , made him concerned for my safety." "I do not understand,” she said, as he paused. "Is not that a contradic tion in itself?" “It seems so only. The fact is, Ara bella, this unfortunate man has the . . the temerity to love you." She cried out at last, and clutched her breast, whose calm was sudden ly disturbed. “Go on," she hade him. "Well, then: he saw,in me one who made it impossible that he should win you—so he said. Therefore he could with satisfaction have killed me. But because my death might cause you pain, because your hap poiness was the thing above all things he desired, he surrendered that pnrt of his guarantee of safety which my person afforded him. If his departure should be hindered, and I should lose my life in what might follow, there was the risk that . . . that you might mourn me. Because of that he hade me leave his ship, and had me put ashore.” She looked at him with r Neu> York ••Day by Day ■> By o. o. McIntyre. New York, Oct. 1.—Monk McGlone, whose powerful right kept Essex street merchants terrorized for sev eral years, has left the East Side for the suburban peace of a small Jersey town. He has deserted the scent of garbage for the scent of musk. Reporters found him out where the pavement ends in a romantic ivy clay cottage spraying the lawn. On the porch was a frail wisp of a girl, whose lingers were busily applying the needle to some embroidery work. "She done it!" said McGlone a little sheep ishly. McGlone was raised In the beery wilderness of East Side dives that cater to all the vices of men. He was a gorilla in size, more than six feet tall with oak-like arms and legs. He began early to work on docks and then went around the Horn on wind jammers. Ashore he sought th" fleshpots, and found that a man who could use his fists could live without toil. He waif fit first a saloon bouncer and then drifted naturally through prowess to gang leadership. And then he met her. Love at first sight—the sort of thing the poets blab about. She was one of the undernourished "little mothers” whose parents — worked all day and left her to take care of her younger brothers and sis ters. One day McGlone was sur rounded by rival gangsters. He was alone, but gave a savage guttural warwhoop and plunged in. When a patrol wagon backed up and they took him away she ran up to him and gave him a faded flower. Three weeks later he was out of Jail and hunting for her. He found her and the romance in sordid settings Began. McGlone went to work in a chain grocery store. His gang mocked him and tried to bring him baek to leadership. “Loco about a skirt,” they Jeered. And Mc Glone with a menacing leer admitted it was true and what were they going to do about it? Wisely they let him alone. And so they were married. Prohibition has snuffed out many of the picturesque Itttle clubs of Manhattan. The latest to expire was The Cloister. It was frequented by artists and writers and occupied the top floor of an old house in West Eleventh street. The walls were dec orated by the members. Only ale was served. No doubt it is just as well these clubs expired, for their closing shows that the members were drawn there by the false fellowship of liquor. Still their atmosphere was more elevating and stimulating than the hole in the wall cafes where the same clubmen go now to drink poisonous hootch. There is one of these little cafes, however, where no liquor is served and which smacks of the old days. It is run by a plump little French woman and her two waiters, Jean and Gaston. She makes a specialty of crayilsh bisque and stewed eels. Through a glass oval In the kitchen door one may see the fat and benig nant cook in immaculate white cap and coat, and there is the smell o( onions and herbs and the fragrance of sauces. There are no chair tables but benches where patrons sit and play cards and dominos. And a few play cubito. It is about the laBt of the old cafes with French flavor and if it were not for the Frencli neighborhood where it Is situated it would wither and perish. And there Is a ticket speculator who hawks his wares In front of Broadway playhouses wtio owns three restaurants, lie made the money srypplng the public, and although he iias It profitably Invested he remains • "spec.” (Copyright. 1224.) eyes that were aswtm with tears. "Was he right, Arabella? My lift's happiness hangs upon your answer." "He said that!" she cried. "He did that! Oh!" she turned away, and through the slender, clustering tyunks of the bordering orange trees she looked out across the glittering wa ters of the great harbor to the dis tant hills. Thus for a little while, my lord, standing stiffly, fearfully, wait ed for fuller revelation of her mi.td. At last it came, slowly, deliberately. In a voice that at moments was half suftiocated. "What weighs—oh, so heavily and bitterly—is the thought that hut for the words in which yesterday I re pelled him, he might have been saved. And now he is lost—back at his out lawry and piracy, in which ultimate ly he will he taken and destroyed. And the fault is mine—mine!" “You have no cause for shame," said he. "As for your sorrow—why, if it will afford you solace—you may still count on me to do what man can to rescue him from this posi tion.” "You will do that!" she cried with sudden eager hopefulness. "You prom ise?" "I promise," he answered her. And then, retaining still the hand she had surrendered to him—"Arabella," he said very gently, "there is still this other matter upon which you have not answered me. This matter that concerns myself, and all my future, oh, so very closely. This thing that Blood believed, that prompted hint . . . that . . . that you are not indif ferent to me.” He saw the fair face change color and grow troubled once more. "Indifferent to you?” said she. "Why, no. We have 1 een good friends; we shall continue so, I hope, my lord.” "Friends! Good friends?" He was between dismay and bitterness. “It is not your friendship only that I a Arabella. You heard what I said, what I reported. You will not say that Peter Blood was wrong?" Gently she sought to disengage her hand, the trouble in her face increas ing. A moment he resisted; then, realizing what he did, he set her free. "Arabella!" he cried on a note of sudden pain. "I have friendship for you, my lord. But only friendship.” "Is it Peter Blood?” "Peter Blood?" she echoed. "I do not know,” she said, faltering a little. When the Jamaica fleet put to sea some few days later. Lord Julian sailed with Colonel Bishop in Vice Admiral Craufurd's flagship. They cruised awhile off Hispaniola, watch ing the WindWard Passage, hut they cruised in vain, and after a month of it returned empty-handed to Port Royal, there to find awaiting them the most disquieting news from the old world. The megalomania of Louis XIV had set Europe in a blaze of war. The French legionaries were ravaging the Rhine provinces, and Spain had Joined the nations leagued to defend themselves front the wild ambitions of the king of France. And there was worse than this: there were ru mors of civil war in England, where the people had grown weary of the bigoted tyranny of King James. It was reported that William of Orange had been invited to come over. Weeks passed, and every ship from home brought additional news. Wil liam had crossed to England, and in March of that year, 1689, they learned in Jamaica that he had accepted the crown and James had thrown himself into the arms of France for rehabili tation. To a kinsman of Sunderland's this was disquieting news, indeed. It was followed hy letters from King Wil liam’s secretary of state informing Colonel Bishop that there was war with France, and that in view of its effect upon the colonies a governor general was coming out to the West Indies in the person of Lord Wil loughby, and that with hint came a squadron under the command of Ad miral van der Kuyien to re-enforce the Jamaica fleet against eventual! ties. Bishop realized that this meant the end of his supreme authority, even though he should continue in Port Royal as deputy governor. I*ord Ju lian, in the lack of direct news to himself, did not know what it might mean to him. But he had been very close and confidential with Colonel Bishop regarding his hopes of Ara bella, and Colonel Bishop more than ever, now that political events put him in danger of being retired, was anxious to enjoy the advantages of having a man of Lord Julian's emi nence for his relative. “There is one obstacle in our path," said his lordship. "Captain Blood. The girl is in love with him." "The brazen baggage! By God! I'll bring her to her senses " "Don't he a fool, Bishop. Listen, man. She has a constant mind. As long as Blood lives she will wait for him.” "Then with Blood dead, perhaps she will come to her silly senses." "Now you begin to show Intelli gence,'' Lord Julian commended him. "That Is the first essential step.” "And here is our chance to take it.” Bishop warmed to a sort of en thusiasm. "This war with France re moves all restrictions in the matter of Tortuga. We are free to invest It in the service of the crown. A victory there and we establish our selves in the favor of this new gov ernment." "Ah!" said T.ord Julian, and he pulled thoughtfully at his lip. Bishop laughed coarsely. "We'll hunt this rascal in his lair. right under the heard <>f the king of France, and we'll take him this time, If wo reduce Tortuga to a heap of ushes.” On tliis expedition they sailed two days later—which would be Home three months after Blood’s departure —taking every ship of the fleet, and several lesser vessels as auxiliaries. To Arabella and the world in general It was given out that they were going to raid French Hispaniola. CHAPTER XXII. THE SERVICE OF KING I.OUIS. Meanwhile, some three months he fore Colonel Bishop set out to reduce Tortuga, Captain Blood, bearing hell In his soul, had blown into Its rock bound harbor ahead of the winter gales, and two days ahead of the frigate in which Wolverstone had sailed from Port Royal a day before him. __ In that snug anchorage he four.* his fleet awaiting him—the four ships which had been separated in that gals off the Leaner Antilles, and some s.-v, en handled men composing thc*if crews. 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