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.)