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•!&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.
(To Be Continued Tomorrow.) _
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(Copyright 1924 >
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