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About Omaha daily bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 187?-1922 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 3, 1904)
January 3, 100L TTIE ILLUSTRATED BEE. 15 tnlnd as hs let th handles of the bar "P slowly Into the boy's outstretched hands, but It wm quickly over. Btlll, after that he did not let the boy net far enough away from him so that he could not have brought him back with a quick grip upon his collar. Once alone In his room, he sat on the side of the bed for a few moments, and then arose with the air of having solved several puzzling problems to his satisfac tion. He took from his pocket the flask of gin which he had had the girl put up for him at the public house, and drank greedily, lie was very white and was breathing hard, as does o. man after a great strain for a moment ceases. He opened the bag and took from It the belt which he had secured from the vault of the safety deposit company. It was of the kind often worn by travelers and others who are obliged to carry large sums of money. Jewels or other small treasure with them on their journeylngs. Its sur face had been polished with much wrarlng and several protuberances along Its length showed where the treasure was hidden In it. His fingers lingered lovingly on the bunches which marked its contents and for a moment toyed with the small slit which formed the opening to the secret reoers within its length. Then he deftly slipped two Angers into this opening and drew forth four or five pebbles which to one un accustomed to Jewels would have seemed to be but worthless things, but which, by the experienced eye, would have been recognized as diamonds In the rough. "Well," he said to himself, "60,00) is a um worth fighting twice for. Once I won the fight. It can scarcely be harder to win the one Just begun." Now. quickly and with no more dalliance with Its contents, he buckled the belt about his waist and removed his outer clothing. Prom the bag he took a suit of blue serge, with a sack coat and a soft woolen peaked cap. The suit he quickly put on. That which he had taken off he made Into a careless bundle and with a sigh of rueful regret thrust it Into the bag. The new top hat. under which he had left the house on Russell square, he smashed remorsefully and crowded It Into the bag with the other discarded elcsan-' cles. It had been the first top hat which he had upon his head for five weary years of adventuring. He rang the bell and waited for the ar rival of the answering boy. To him he gave the bag and the circular ticket for Paris, with instructions to book the bag through to the French capital. He watched Its departure with a genuine regret. It had been his companion on many a rough and many a pleasant Journey. To lose it was to lose an old. If Inanimate, friend. Before long the boy returned with the ticket and a small slip of white paper, which Is the Incompetent European sub stitute for the American brass check, and Pnrton placed them in his pocket. But after the boy had left the room he took the baggage receipt, twisted It Into a small wisp, and used It as a cigar lighter, while a moment later he burned the Paris ticket. Then, with that almost automatic rfklll which some men acquire In handllnd razors upon their own faces, he attacked first the mustache and then the black, pointed beard. After he had roughed them off he ran Ms hand carefully over his fare to find where the work had been Ineffective. He corrected tlese errors and examined the reflection In the mirror minutely. He smiled as he realized that this simple dis guise was a most effective one. He placed the shaving outfit In one of the pockets of his coat. Then, with a traveling cap upon his head, he was ready to go out into the world again a very different person from the young man In Immaculate afternoon dress who had en tered the hotel. He listened at the door for a moment with the idea of avoiding meetings as he emerged from his room, and then boldly opened It and steppped out Into the cor ridor. Just as he reached the stairway he met the boy who had attended him to his room. He saw, with some satisfaction, thlt he merely glanced at him, evidently without recognition. The young man took heart at this and went upon his way, passing through the office without recogni tion by the clerk, and, so on, down in the elevator. Once again In the train shed he sought the densest part of the crowd that was gathered there. Within five minutes, by easy maneuvering, be had again satisfied himself that he was not followed. Keep ing always as many people between himself and the front of the station as he could he edged his way to the extreme left of the place, and then, going close to the outer wall, passed along It until he reached the entrance to a small stairway, which leads downward to the narrow side street. The passage across the great train shed had been nervous work, and despite the fact that he had so materially altered bis appearance Parton almost trembled as he made It. Once actually in the entrance to the stairway, and then on the narrow and Ill-lighted stairs themselves, he felt much safer. He hurried down. It was a relief to b able to hurry without feeling afraid that by so doing he might attract danger ous attention. He would not have dared to make any haste on the station platform. Long before he reached the bottom of the stairway the friendly fog again enshrouded tolm and changed the sharp outlines of his figure Into a dull, gray blur. When he actually stepped out Into the street he did so with confidence and great gratitude to ward the fog. It had surely been his friend that day. He stepped to one side and waited near the bottom of the stairway for a moment to see that none followed him and then went slowly down the street to ward the Thames embankment. CHAPTER III. With wind and tide to fight, sometimes a port that's In plain sight, seems further off than Chlny The Log Book of The Lyddy. The embankment walks were so dimly lighted and the fog along the river was so dense that I'arton found It difficult to keep In the paths instead of wandering off upon the grass plots. When at bust he reached the river's edge progress was easier, for he could guide himself by keeping his hand upon the low granite wall. Thus, carefully feeling h's way, he eventually reached the hill which precedes the approach to Ulaekfriar's brldgo and, climbing It and crossing Blackfrlar's road, found himself In the tangle of narrow streets which lay beyond It busy by day, but almost deserted after nightfall. After he had plunged deeply Into this darkness and found it to be puzzling, he sat down upon a stone post to think. Ills plans, indefinite as they had been, had so far worked out well. The first stage of his flight had been successfully accomplished. Ho had dropped out of the sight of that part of Ixindon where he might reasonably be expected to be found, and had not once been questioned In the process. By what he considered, as ho sat there on the post, rather clever maneuvering, he had ?eft a distinct suggestion of a trail to Paris by booking his bag and his passage for that city. Both these actions, he re flected, were matters of record, and in caso inquiries were made at Charing Cross sta tion those records would be found. Where he was really bound for he did not quite know. He had chosen the West India docks as the starting point of his flight from London. He had decided, purely for purposes of prudence, that It must be some hind over which there flew a flag other than the Union Jack, because of the danger of extradition in case he fled to a British colony. He reflected, bitterly, that England no longer held for him any binding ties. A fleeting suggestion of an interest, which, even in his then unpleasant pass, he wished were a binding tie, he tried to put out of his mind as being too absurd for considera tion. He realized that the fact that he hud fallen In love with a girl almost at first sight was a poor basU from which to argue that she might have fallen in love with him as suddenly. And the fact that this girl would in all likelihood be taught to regard his flight as the sequel to a fraud upon herself was bitter to him. He knew very little about that part of London Into which he had wandered, but he was certain. In a general way, that he had been going In the direction of the docks. The points of embarcatlon for most of those who go as passengers from Eng land are Liverpool, Southampton and Ports mouth, though London itself Is the greatest British port for the reception and embarca tlon of ocean freight. Parton argued that the police would be unlikely to look to the docks In London for a fugitive who had plenty of money and whose desire would naturally be to flee from England as rap idly as he could. But as time passed after he had again started on his wandering he became more and more impressed with the fact that finding the docks without making inquiries would be a matter of unexpectedly serious difficulty. Muny times he became so con fused In the smother of the fog and the labyrinth of twisting thoroughfares that he knew not whether he was going right or whether he might not be turned about and passing back over the track which he had already followed. Then suddenly a man approached him and a blue-clothed arm reached out toward him. The hand at the end of the discern ing sleeve had lightly caught hi arm be fore he had time to shrink back, almost faint from shock. Involuntarily he clenched hU fist, quickly resolved to make a fight of it and then cut and run If he succeeded In getting away, taking his chances on being able to elude his pursuer in tho fog. Parton was ready for tho words which should have followed this grip from a blue coated arm, "I arrest you in the name of the law!" The words which really came to him were different. The stranger said to him In a voice which bad both pleading and com plaint in it: "HI begs your pardon, but w'ere in 'ell's Blackfrlar's bridge?" With a relief which could be scarcely ex aggurated in description, Parton told the stranger how to get to Ulaekfriar's Irldge. The mere feeling that the man was r.ot his enemy reacted on him and made him re gard him as a friend. He commented on the thickness of the weather. He found htat It was exceed ingly good to talk to seme one. Also, as he saw that the blue of the stranger's coat was that of the somewhat faded uniform of a steamship's petty officer instead of tho smart npparel of a policeman, it oc curred to him that tho Btranger might bo ablo to return bis service by making clear tho way to tho distant docks. He sug gested that they adjourn to discuss tho streets of London nt their leisure In a nearby public honso whoso lights were glimmering faintly through tho fog. Parton had decided that ho would leave Ijondon, If possible, on a sailing vessel, be cause, ho argued, that their passengers would bo less carefully scrutinized than those who sailed on the more important steamers. The sailor told him that one of the best of tho few sailing vessels still In tho transatlantic trade was In port at that mo ment, although he thought thut it was to sail In a day or two. Its name was the Lydia Skolfeld. Farton mado a mental note of this nnd the two men parted with mutual expres sions of esteem for each other nnd con tempt for tho weather. He walked on and on, until he saw by his watch under a flickering gas Jet that It was about the timo when the sun would have lcgun to Shine on him had there not been too much fog to make such a phenomenon possible In Ixuidon that morning, lie had begun to lose faith In the directions which the sailor had given to htm when he realized suddenly that his Journey was at an end. There were the odors of salt and tar and oakum nnd bilge water, as well as that strange, sweetish, almost sickening smell which always seems to go with ship car goes, and there came the unmistakable odor of the sea from the big haHln. Parton walked along the sidewalk, which Is separated from the great gates leading to the docks by a space wide enough to bo a plaza In any other city. Tho fog had thinned with the coming of the day; but It was still necessary for him to walk slowly nnd to peer closely In order to Bee tho signs.' At last he found one which Informed the wayfarer that within might be found good food and comfortnble lodging nt moderate prices. Ho entered. He was ravenously hungry and satisfied his appetite. Then lie was shown to a room which was clean. He undressed as quickly ns ho could, and, locking his door carefully and seeing to it that tho precious belt was buckled tightly about his body, plied Into bed and almost instantly fell into a deep tiecp. CHAPTER IV. On a lonesome voyage a floatln' chip '11 chirk you up the way a brass bund wouldn't when you was to home. Tho Itig Hook of The Lyddy. It was almost noon when Parton awoke. Hl9 head was whirling from the effort of the night before and too much drink, and his heart was heavy with that depression which comes to ull at times, when they are In course of a hazardous enterprise. Tho fear of the police came back to him a hun dredfold stronger than it bud been at any time before. Ho listened nervously to the noises which came in through tho open window from the street. He had small doubt that by this time tho police had at least been notified that he was missing. It might be that tho whole meaning of his disappearance bad not yet been guessed, although of this he was by no means confident. His stepfather tho man who was most vitally Interested In tils disappearance would scarcely have had time as yet to learn at what safety deposit company the belt and its contents had been on deposit, and, therefore, It was at least Improbable that he had found that he had carried it away, but he was sure to grow suspicious early and to worry about the 00,000 worth of diamonds which Purton had carried away with him. When he entered the miserable eating room the sight of a blue coat and police helmet would scarcely have surprised him. Even after he had settled at a table ani ordered what the last night's liquor had left taste for in his stomach, he could not avoid occasional nervous glances at the door. He noticed that all those who wero in tho dingy place wore their huts while they ate, and this was a relief to him. He pulled his cap well down over his eyas. The problem whffch confronted him now was how best to investigate the ships then lying at the docks and engage passage on one of them without occasioning remark. This was not an easy matter to figure out. Well dressed young men without baggage wanting to take passage on sailing vessels probably were rare. Mercifully the time which elapsed after he gave his order and before the food ap peared was long and gave him an oppor tunity to collect Ids scattered wits. He culled the waiter to him and sent him to get the morning papers. After ids return he ate as heartily as he could, entirely from a sense of necessity for it and not because of appetite. While he ate his attention was attracted by an article that told how Kudyard Kip ling, in order to describe the experiences of one of his characters, during a long trip through India In a bullock cart, had made the Journey himself. Parton jumped at the suggestion. That was the solution of his awkward situation He had Just reached this conclusion when. In laying tho paper down, he folded It by chanco so that the first column of the first page came uppermost. This Is always. In tho London Times, devoted to "Personal Advertisements" nnd Is known the world over ns the "agony column." It Is probably tho most widely read column In any Euro pean newspaper. And In It Parton read: Henry Parton: In't return. T under stand your reasons for going and think you nre Justified. Watch this column for any Information which 1 may be able to give to you. N. M. "N. M." could not menn any other thin Norah MacKarrcn. He was elated and en couraged, although It warned him that his fears concerning the attitude of MacKarren wero accurate and well founded. Also, suddenly, nnd almost with n shock, he realized that he was In love with the girl who had sent the message to Mm. He thought wildly for a moment of going to her of offering to give his treasures to the old man with the hope that he might, perhaps, win a second fortune which she should share with him, but this plan was quickly rejected. If he gave up the trea-ture he would have nothing to offer her and tho Idea that he might find another was toa visionary for practical consideration. But the message from the girl put heart Into him. He culled tho mournful looking waiter who had been attending to his wants nnd Inquired where the Lydla Pkolfeld lay in dock. He found that he had stumbled al most on Its berth In the fog, and within a few moments he was on hiard. The master of the American barkentlne Lydia Pkolfeld was n short, chunky, g'iod natured looking New Euglnnder with gray mustache and n close croprcd I card. He laughed comfortably ns he looked Parton over. "(lood day, young man," be said Jo vially. "I'o you want to ship before the nmit on my old linker?" "No," said Parton, "I don't want to ship before the mnst. But 1 want to ship be hind It, If that H where the passengers ship." The old man looked nt hl-.n with some surprise. It had bci n muny years since a Btranger had asked for the privilege of closing with him as n passenger. "What's the matter?" he asked. "You don't look consumptive, nor yet you don't look as If you'd been drtnkln" yourself to death. Them's the on'y folks that wants to cross In sallln' ships nowadays." "My name Is Cirter," said I'arton, "and I want to gilher material for n story." It seemed to him that the captain scarcely believed what he Mild; but It was also evident that if Pnrton re illy did want to write n story about u voyage lu a sail ing vessel, the captain would be glad to hnve It made in the Lydla Pkolfeld. It was quickly apparent that he was Inordl nitely fond nnd proud of hl'i ship, al though he ostentatiously culled It an "old hooker," a "wind Jammer" nnd a "rag power liner." Before he finally accepted Parlon's offer he had devoted half an hour to a eulogy of It, nnd had explained that he owned It himself, having bought tho last share of It- very recently. "How much ure you willln' to pay?" he asked, finally. "Whatever you think Is right." nnswerel Parton. And then added quickly at the thought thut he must be cautious, "That is, of course. If it Is reasonable." "It'll cost you more'n It would to go over In a steamer, but 1 s'pose you got your own reasons for want In' to go on th' Lyddy," said the captain, ignoring tho reuson that had already bren given. "How much?" asked Purton, trying hard not to speak hurriedly. "Twenty pounds," said the captain. "You c'n go on almost tiny of th' steamers for less 'n that. It's about a hundred do'lars good money I mean I'nlted States money." "Twenty pounds seems like a filMy high price," said I'arton, as if considering. "Well," Bald the captain, reflectively, "there's one good thing about It, by Jihn! you don't have to pay it! Not 'nless yoj wunt to, by Qulncy! Nobody ain't got no rope on you, by Adams! You can suit y'rsclf, by John Qulncy Adams!" "Oh. I'm willing to pay It." said Pnrton somewhat hurriedly, "but I shouldn't want to pay much more. I couldn't afford it." "Well," said the captain, having passed the sharp annoyance that made him swear so wickedly, "there ain't nobody askln' you to pay any more, so fnr'a I can see." It was evident that he felt a little ashamed of and sorry $or hla outbreak. "You see. It's like this," he went on. "Mebbe it don't seem reas'r.able for me to charge more for passage In th' Lyddy than you'd have to pay In some stuamer'n other. But th' biggest part o' th' cost o' my passage of you Is what you eat, by John. All right. You see that, don't you? Yes. Course you do. Blind baby could sea that. Well, one o' these Qulncy steamers one o' the slow ones wouldn't have to feed you at th' outside for more'n ten or twelve days. "Now I've got to feed you prob'ly. thirty days, anyway, an' I've had a passage taks me four months. It's a speculation with me. I have to take chances. If God's good 'n' th' wind's fair, an' you don't eat too much for your size, I may make some (Continued on Fag Sixteen.)
