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Fhe Golconda Cole

or, A Scheme for

Millions.BY WELDON J. COBB.

a T3a© toost-l^aica. j^jLzixus eix»o not Ck,l.i7cra,-y& successful."

"Ship scuttled, and the mine is ten feet under water."

THE SATURDAY LIBRARY.

THE GOLCONDA GOLD MINE

;

—OR,

—

A. Kclurao for Millions.

" The bat-laid plans arc not always suc-

cessful."

BY WELT10N .1. COBB.

CHAPTER I.

FIGURING UP.Morning in New York.It is early dawn iu the great metropolis.Here and there along the business thor-

oughfares of the mighty city, which, duringthe day, pulsate and quiver like throbbingarteries with the din and turmoil of a rest-less activity, no sign of life exists, exceptthe occasional rumble of a vehicle or thesteady tramp of the policeman on hisrounds.

It is to a street located in the very heartof the city that we would conduct our read-ers this beautiful morning, and to the broadmarble steps of a superb edifice bearingacross its columned front the words:

"The Golconda Mining Company,of A-lameda, California."

The plate windows, the thickly mattedhall, the frosted interior lights and the rich,handsome carpets aud chandeliers evincewealth, taste aud prosperity.There are counting-rooms and offices, pri-

vate offices aud reception-rooms, while thewell-appointed apartments indicate a lavish•xpeuditure pleasiug to the eye and confi-dence-inspiring to the mind.There is no trashy display, no "shop"

reminiscences about the place, for the Gol-oonda is reported wealthy and prosperousand at the high-tide of popularity.It is not with the mining workings of the

oompany that our Btory has to do, but withthe president of the rich organization whichhas so suddenly sprung into notice, CecilVivian, and with his private secretary,Gould Dayton. A retrospective glance willbe necessary to a proper understanding ofthe state of affairs upon the day which opensour story.Two years previous Cecil Vivian had been

left an orphan and the heir to a handsomefortune at the age of twenty-five.Young, unmarried, and handsome, he at

once became the lion of a social set, thereigning belle of which was Miss EthelWayne, the adopted daughter of a wealthyretired bunker.The acquaintance between the twain had

ripened into affeotion and their engagementbecame a matter of public gossip.Among the property left by old General

Vivian to his son was a large tract of terri-tory In California.Gold having been found near this place,

Vivian, Mr. Wayne and several others madea trip to the Golden State, examined themines, and the result was the formation ofthe Golconda Mining Company, of Alameda,with a cash capital of five hundred thousanddollars.The young capitalist placed all his ready

means in the enterprise and became its pres-ident.

A't the time of our tale, to all outward ap-pearances the company was in a flourishingcondition, and the prospect of an immensedividend soon to be made was apparentlysatisfactory to all concerned.Upon acquiring; the fortune left him by

his father, Cecil Vivian had taken into hisconfidence and employ a man who claimedto be his half-cousin, Gould Dayton.In his loneliness and grief the young man

felt the want of a friend and counselor, anddespite the fact that Dayton had never beenknown to his father, accepted him in his

•heart as a warm friend.Dayton was forty years of age, and on the

score of years well able to become a ju-dicious and prudent adviser to his generouscousin, who little dreamed of the perfidy

and treacherous nature of his dependent.He gave him a position as private secre-

tary, and indeed the moving spirit in theoompany was Gould Dayton, whose judg-ment was consulted and confidence invitedin the minutest details of the company byits young and inexperienced president. Hehad access to the books of the company,carried on all private correspondence, anddrew a fine salary for his efforts.

Early ns the morning Is, the private officeof the president of the company is not un-tenanted, nor are its occupants idle. Sentedin an elegant arm-chair, with thoughtfuleyes and pale feal ures, is Cecil Viviuu. Be-fore him, on a table, is a large pileof papers,closely written, and covered with perplex-ing rows of figures, while opposite him, andbusily engaged adding up hh account, is hisprivate secretary, Gouid Dayton.The shades of this apartment are drawn,

the chandelier is lighted, and the remusintsof cigars on the hearth and the half-emptybottle of wine on the table indicate thatthey have been thus engaged during thenight." I have finished," said the secretary, ab-

ruptly, looking up and starting his compan-ion from his deep reverie. "Id is a grandthing we went over the books, and a still

morefortunatoevent that the real conditionof affairs is unknown to the public. Thebank account is overdrawn thirteen thou-sand dollars, and" the assessments on stockaro paid in to the last dollar."A shade of startled amazement crossed the

young capitalist's brow." As bad as that ?" he murmured." It is as I say."" I knew we were running short in cash

;

in fact, considering the heavy expenses wehave incurred, I do not marvel at it. Thepay-rolls, transportation of miners aud pur-chase of maohineryfor the past year havebeen run up to over a quarter million ofdollars. There is no need of anxiety or fear,however," continued Mr. Vivian, with aforced expression of relief. " We must tideover the present month, and then "

He paused suddenly as his eye caught thewatohing expression of his consul's face.Was it imagination, or the workings of hisbrain, weary with the night's anxious vigils,

that look of supreme triumph, mingled withdeadly hate and vindictiveness? One flash,

and then the calm lips serenely echoed

:

"And then?""Why, then we shall be all right, of course.

Why not, Gould ? The machinery is all

up, and our first remittance of gold, will behere on to-day's steamer to brighten up thedirectors' eyes. We'vesunk a fortune; weshall reap a princely harvest."The secretary watched his enthusiasm

with a half-sneer on his lips, a veiled venomin his basilisk eyes. Then he met his look,impatiently . leaned forward a little, andsaid, in a grave tone of voice

:

"I don't want to discourage or worry you,Vivian, but I believe in facing peril andaverting it if possible. Seriously, we are inshallow water."" I know it," replied his companion, in a

subdued voice, his enthusiasm waning atthe matter-of-fact tones of the, secretary."Now, let us face the crisis boldly," said

Dayton. "We have issued one hundredshares of stock now ruling above par at Avethousand dollars each. We have drawn ex-tensively on our bank credits, and no assess-ment dues are payable for nearly a fullquarter. The mines, at last accounts, wereat work, panning out well. Suppose thereis a failure ; suppose the steamer carryingour first consignment of gold miscarries

—

what then ? I have conoealed the truthfrom you, but fifty thousand dollars mustbe paid before noon to-day or our papergoes to protest."A look of absolute horror spread over the

faoe of the president." Do you mean this ?" he gasped, growing

white and more startled." It is true."'• Why did you not tell me this before ?".

"I did not know how short we were untilI went over the books."The young man lifted his hand to his

brow, with an uncertain, dazed expressionof face."There are my private bonds," he said,

finally." Hypothecated for their full value. Our

securities are all in use," replied the secre-tary."Then we must wait until we receive

news from the steamer.""Impossible."" How impossible?""The Commercial Bank holds our paper

for fifty thousand."" Renew the loan.""It has been intimated that the money

must be called in.""Then what do you advise?"The secretary drew his chair near to his

companion, his eyes watching every move-ment of his cousin's face.

" We're in a close box," he said, slowly;"but if we can keep the truth from the

public for a few weeks longer we are safe.

One whisper now, one suspicion, and crasn

goes the company. Prudence demands asacrifice which houor may refuse; but whatis this to the ruin of the men who havetrusted you? We will not tail; the minesmust pav, but we mus» have time."Cec'l Vivian had looked up, startled and

perplexed, at the hidden insinuation in his

secretary 's last words.••

I do not understand you," he said, con-fusedly."I mean there is but one way out of the

difficulty.""And that is

"

The wily conspirator drew closer to hisunsuspecting tool aud whispered in a low,hoarse murmur:"An overissue of stook!"A cry of amazement, mingled with horror

and anger, rang from the pale lips of CecilVivian as he arose to his feet,"Never!" hecried. "Ruin may oome, but

dishonor never!"It was more like the cry of a tortured and

ensnared soul repelling an awful temptationthan the indignatiou of a proud and: sinlessspirit.

CHAPTER II.

"HI PLOITIB8.The human mind in unexpected dilem-

mas is marvelously active in its workings,and in that one moment of surprise and emo-tion Cecil Vivian seemed to realize the en-tire import oonveyed in the words of bissecretary.It meant dishonor if detected, and, worst

of all, it nieaut ruin, irretrievable ruin, ifnot done, and no other avenue of escapefrom his present financial embarrassmentpresented itself." Never," he had said, but the wily cousin

knew better and kept silent."Do you know what it involves?" in-

quired Vivian, pacing the floor and address-ing no one in particular in his present dis-ordered mental condition." We have reached our limit, and if a sin-

gle certificate is issued and placed upon themarket fraudulently, the penalty is impris-onment in the state penitentiary."A cunning gleam came into the secreta-

ry's eyes." But if we redeem the issue in a few days

—in fact, if we save ourselves and no oneknows of the transaction, what then ?"

The wavering conscience was partiallyquieted." It cannot be done," murmured the presi-

dent."It can.""How?"" Listen to me," said Dayton, and his tone

become persuasive as he spoke. " The valueof our mines has been placed as high as fivemillion dollars. The Btook issued alreadyhas amounted to five hundred thousanddollars. In your private desk yon haveblanks which may be filled out for fivethousand a share. Sign ten of these certifi-cates and give them to me. I will affix theseal of the company and my signature asseoretary. Then I will take the stocks toold Isaacs. From their appearance he willnever know what the conditions of theirissue are. I will pledge them with him forfifty thousand dollars, payable in thirtydays, and by that time we can redeemthem, and who is the wiser?"Thepresident'sfacebecamemore hopeful,

but a slight cloud of indecision and reluc-tance still lingered upon it."Besides," pursued the< wily conspirator,

" there is no criminality in the act and nopublicity. What is the deception practicedon the Jew, which he will never discover,compared to the loss of a fortuue for thewant of a paltry fifty thousand dollars?"" Can you do this V queried Cecil, anx-

iously. "Can the matter be arranged sothat no whisper of it will get abroad ?""It can."An irresolute expression still haunted the

thoughtful eyes of the young president.'•I will think this over, Gould," he said.

" I will let you know this afternoon."" This afternoon will be too late," said the

seoretary. "Now is the time. The blanksare in your desk. Sign ten of them, and Iwill attend to the rest."He started up as he spoke.A shadow, leaning in a listening attitude

over the ground-glass doors in the nextapartment, attracted his attention.He frowned slightly, and then turned his

full attention upon his cousin, who sat nerv-ously playing with a pen-holder from thedesk before him.

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"Well?" he asked, eagerly.The young capitalist laughed uneasily." One would believe ihatyou were an evil

genius leading me to the commission ofsome crime," he Baid, triflingly. " I will doit, however; but only under the pressure ofthe necessity whioh exists."The eyes of the seoretary burned triumph-

antly as he saw his victim open a drawer inthe desk and take therefrom a bundle ofblank certificates.He watched the nervous fingers sign the

name, and then, taking them one by one,affixed the company's seal and his ownname.There they lay on the table, ten certifi-

cates ready for use. The president arosewith a weary sigh."Heaven grant that we hear from the

mines to-day," he said. "1 am very tired,and will go home to seek rest. This all-

night business wears on me."He lit a cigar, donned his light overcoat

and hat as he spoke and left the office.

The secretary watohed him as he descend-ed the steps of the building, saw him turnthe street corner, and then, locking thedoor, flung himself into a seat with a demo-niac expression of triumph upon his evilface.

" It is done," he muttered, exultantly.A low tap on the glass door connecting

with the next room caused him to start sud-denly and unlock the door.A man entered—a man whose features and

form bore so strange a resemblance to CecilVivian that they would scaroely be distin-guishable apart in a dimly lighted room.

If the expression of the face differed mate-rially, only a person familiar with Cecn""Vivian would have discerned.lhis peculiar-

The young man entered with a wearyyawn and threw himself into a seat beforethe desk just deserted by the president."Tired of waiting, Dacre?" inquired the

secretary."Yes. You've had a mighty long confab,

and I've had a good sleep. Well, is the gameready to be played ?"

"Yes."i watched the latter part of your busi-

ness through the window yonder," said thenew-comer, with a nod toward the glass

doors. "You've roped him in. Now fororders. I say, Dayton, have you any liquorin the place?"The secretary took a bunch of keys from

the drawer in the table and left the room.At that moment the manner of the man

Dacre changed. His eyes roved quickly overevery article of furniture in the room, finally

resting on the open drawer of the president'sprivate desk. There lay the balance of theunsigned certificates.

It is impossible to say what thought cross-

ed the man's mind at that moment. Hequickly inserted his hand into the drawer,drew out ten blank bonds of the company,and after placing the company's stamp uponthem, rolled them rapidly up and secretedthem in his inner coat-pocket.The secretary returned with a bottle of

whisky brought from a secret closet, andwhen his companion had drank a glass said

:

" We understand each other, Dacre, andit is not necessary to remind you that I

hold your safety and liberty in my power.Your very remarkable resemblance to mycousin suagested my using you as a party to

a little plot of miue, and I propose to j>ay

you well for your trouble. Only one stipu-

lation I make. You are to take those ten

shares of stock, leave this office within anhour, and after banking-houses have open-ed, present them as I direct to the variousbanks written on this piece of paper. At-tempt in every way to imitate the mannerand tone, of the man you are to represent—Cecil Vivian. Offer the shares at seventy-five cents on the dollar. Send the money to

me at once, reserving ten thousand dollars

as your share. Then do as I directed. Hirea conveyance, get the woman you Bpoke of

to accompany you on a ride, passing Mr.Wayne's residenceslowly, and you are readyfor your trip to Europe. You understandy«ur part thoroughly ?"

"I do, but "

A shadow crossed the young man's face.

"But what?""Mabel "

Gould'Dayton uttered a fierce oath." I tell you, you must leave that woman

alone." „ , ,

The other's face grew sullen and down-

"You fly high game, Gould DaytoD," he

said, moodily, " and expect all the booty andnone of the risk. Mabel Clare does not love

you and- never will, and you have avowedyour indifferenoe to her. Why, then, thisjealousy of me? Take your money and re-quest any favor of me, but give me thewoman I love.".A hot flush mounted the brow of the secre-

tary, a deadly glitter came into his eyes." I forbid you to see Mabel Clare," he Baid,

hotly, almost furiously. "She is not foryou, and if I choose to shut out all otheraffections and bestow my friendship uponher, you must be content with no explana-tion of the mystery existing between us. Domy work and take your money, and seekforgetfulness of your hopeless passion inother dimes."The young man, Arnold Daore, did not

reply, but taking up the stock and list placedthem in the outer pocket of his coat. Thenhe moodily drank another glaBS of theliquor and left the office.

He almost stumbled over a man who wasnear thedoor, and who brushed past him andentered the private room of the presidentunceremoniously as the other left it.

He was a roughly dressed man of middleage.He closed the door after him and stood

facing Gould Dayton, who had turned, witha startled cry, from the desk upon which hewas arranging the papers, when the foot-steps of the stranger announced a new ar-rival.

" You ?" he said, in a tone of surprise."Yes, it is me, boss; why not? Orders is

orders, and you wrote to come on at once.""Well, Jones," he said, patronizingly,

" from the mines, I suppose ?"

A quick look passed over the face of theother as his glance wandered over the sec-retary's face. He was evidently puzzled atthe cool reoeption he had not expected tomeet with." Yes, sir, from the mines and "

He lifted his hands to his mouth as hespoke, iu the shape of a Bpeaking-trumpet.Then he threw his head back, and a soundlike the gurgling of water proceeded fromhis hoarse throat. Coolly winking he eyedhis companion askance.

If the secretary understood this sign hedid not evince the least evidence that suchwas the fact, but coolly knocking the ashesfrom his cigar Baid

:

" What does that mean, Jones ?"

"Ship's scuttled."A look of questioning innocence and

amazement passed over the secretary's face,hiding the cunning gleam of triumph whichhad momentarily preceded it.

"Scuttled? What do you mean?"There came an expression into the bronzed

face of the stranger at this assumption ofignorance on the part of his companionwhich fairly startled Gould Dayton. It wasthe look of a man inoensed, entrapped, puz-zled, combined with an expression of thecapabilities for resenting wrong or balkingin a summary manner.

',' Mr. Gould Dayton," he said, " I've heerdof- fellers high-toned as yerself luring uned-ucated pals like me to do their dirty work,but I never heerd that they did not pay aman for his honest labor. Come, now, theagreement was to pay on delivery. Theship's scuttled, the gold was never shipped,and the mine's ten feet under water. I

don't know your object. I doft't care. AllI want is my money. Atween Rio and theHorn I scuttled the ship ; no lives lost ; andthe iron ore gone to the bottom. Whatthen ? Aecordin' to agreement, five thou-sand cash.""See here, my man," said the secretary,

coolly, suavely, " are you wild or drunk ?

What have I to do with the scuttling of theship, the shipment of iron ore, or the plot orplan you are hinting at?"A coarse oath broke from the lips of the

miner." Did yer or did yer not hire me to leave

New York and go to the mines ?"

"I certainly did."" Correct. Did yer or did yer not tell me

that ef I obeyed the orders of yer right-bower, Arnold Dacre, I was to hev money ?"

"Yes, that is substantially true, also."" Thet's what I've done, boss. First,

floodin' the mines; second, puttin' the ironin place of the gold ; last, scuttlin' the ship.

What then?""What then?" cried Dayton, arising and

flinging his cigar away. " I'll tell you, myfriend. If you and Dacre have got up agame on me, lookout. If you think I'm to

be blackmailed at your will and pleasure,take care. I repudiate you and him, too;

There's a hundred dollars," flinging him apurse, " and now, if you ever come into this

place again, if you ever so much as dare to

hint even at what you have said, I'll haveyou put where you won't see daylight for atime."The miner arose to his feet, spurning the

gold contemptuously, white, trembling,with murderous eyes and evil face.Rage, battled avarice, and a gleam of de-

moniao hatred sprung into bis features ashis hand clutched a revolver at his belt.He paused in hie sudden impulse, how-

ever, for the finger of the secretary restedon a little electric knob connecting with thepolice headquarters, and he saw what it

meant." I'll go, you devil, you sneak and villain !"

he cried. "I'll leave ye, my friend, but be-ware. When you sleep I'll be awake ; whenyou're iu fancied safety I'll be plotting, andI'll tear you down. I'll trump your bestcard if it takes my life."

Then he turned and was gone ere the sec-retary could stop him, leaving Gould Day-ton in a state of doubt, indecision and fearwhich blanched his cheek and filled himwith the conviction that he had made adangerous and unrelenting enemy.

CHAPTER III.

IN THE NAME Or THE LAW,

Of all dark schemes that had for theirpur-pose the destruction of the integrity, thelove and the social status of an apparentlyinnocentman, that of Gould Dayton against,his unsuspecting cousin was the blackest anddirest.To crush him ; to alienate him from the

love of a faithful and tender heart; to de-grade him in the eyes of the community andwin for him the opprobrium and punish-ment of a common criminal, he had con-ceived and partially executed a plot whichcould not fail of success, so carefully had it

been projected, so faithfully carried out byhis auxiliaries.Arnold Dacre would not fail to carry out

his agreement, and the wily conspirator hadof late not only poisoned the minds of manyagainst his cousin by vile innuendoes andcareless but damaging insinuations as to hishabits, but had managed to have these re-ports reach the ears of Miss Wayne.Too proud was she to question further, as

she had the fullest, confidence in her lover'sintegrity and honor, and while these re-ports failed to convince her of the unfaith-fulness of her betrothed, yet they preparedher mind for the stunning proofs of CecilVivian's unworthiness with which shewas so soon and unexpectedly to be con-fronted.Ethel Wayne was the adopted and only

child' of Mr. Wayne.Years before he had found her, a child of

three years of age, upon a cold winter'snight, homeless and friendless, with no clewto her real identity, and had taken her to hislonely home, and as she grew up her beautyof face and character had well repaid himfor the love he had lavished upon her.Daily unfolding new beauties of soul, she

had entranced and captivated both CecilVivian and his cousin, Gould Dayton; butwhile the former inspired her with a deepand pure affection, the latter filled her withan aversion and repugnance she could notavoid exhibiting in his presence at all times.The result was a natural one; the engage-

ment of Cecil and the lady in question, andjealousy and a feeling of hatred for his suc-cessful rival on the part of Gould Dayton:Upon the afternoon of the day which

ushers in our story Ethel was seated in thewing of Mr. Wayne's house devoted to thelibrary, when looking up from the book shewas perusing she saw passing the houseslowly in an elegant vehicle her lover, asshe supposed, Cecil Vivian.At first she thought herself mistaken, but

a second view satisfied her that it could beno other than he.By his side, gaudy with bright attire and

flashing jewels, with rouged cheeks andpainted face, was a woman, a bold, brazen-faced thing, whose every gay gesture andsmile told of an abandon and recklessnesshabitual only to one class of women.The hot blood flushed the face of Ethel •

Wayne with indignation as she recognizedthe open insult offered her, and she burstinto a flood of tears.Au hour passed, when she was aroused

from her fit of sad meditations by the soundof voices in the hall, and she started up paleand agitated as Mr. Wayne entered theroom, followed by Gould Dayton evidentlylaboring under some intense excitement." Impossible, Mr. Dayton !" Ethel's father

was saying.

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" It is M I say, Mr. Wayne. Excuse me,sir: Miss Wayne is present."He noticed with satisfaction the scarcely

dried tears on her face, the pale features,the agitated manner."Remaiu, Ethel," commanded .the old

man, sti-rnly."Consider her feelings, Mr. Wayne," in-

terposed the wily hypocrite; "the newsmay be too severe for her.""My Elbel is a true woman," returned

the capitalist, proudly. " She knows how toaccept mid treat the unmasked swindler asreadily as her friends. Ethel, I have painfulnews for vou. Cecil Vivian is a fugitive fromjustice—a common swindler. He has madean overissue of stock of the company ofwhioh he is president, and has misrepre-sented the affairs of the company to thepublic."

" Oh! it cannot be!"There was a gasp of pain, a white horror

In the fair young girl's face, and then, asCould Dayton sprung forward, she sunk tothe sofa, withdrawing herself from his will-ing grasp and placing her handkerchief toher eyes.

"The discovery came at noon, sir," con-tinued Dayton to Mr. Wayne. "The shipArizona has sunk in mid-ooean with the first«onsignment of gold from the mines aboard

;

aud late intelligence from California statesthat over ten feet of water have flooded themines, involving a loss of thousands of dol-lars and a consequent delay for future op-orations which will deteriorate the value ofthe property. The news spread like wild-fire and the stock is offered for sale at anyprioe. In fact, the company is a totalwreck."The old man listened with a white face and

trembling lips." I do not care for the fifty thousand dol-

lars I have invested in the company and willprobably lose, " he said. " It is yonder poor,crushed girl's condition which grieves me.To think that she should have been engagedto a common swindler, for such he is. Thafinger of disgrace which points out his fallwill reflect scorn upon her. Cheer up, mypoor child," he said, tenderly, turning to hisdaughter, "It is well we ascertained in timethe character of the man whom you were tohave wedded."A low moan was her only reply. Utterly

crushed, the events of that fated hour hadbent the gentle spirit like a frail flower inthe storm." Whether Mr. Vivian intended to flee the

country I know not," pursued the secretary,slowly. " I know that the affairs of the com-pany show a sad discrepancy between thereal and publicly stated condition of things.The overissue is in itself bad enough, butthe forgery of my name makes it infinitelyworse."Did he do that?""He did. If I could shield him I would,

t>ut I cannot bear the odium of complicitywhen none existed."At that moment a servant opened the door

and announced

:

'•Mr. Vivian!"At the mention of that name Mr. Wayne

turned red and angry.Dayton shrunk into the shadow of the

curtain, while Ethel, pale but composed,faced him Bternly.He entered the apartment full of life and

vivaoity, with no knowledge of the blowwhich had fallen, of the terrible odiumwhich the events of the past few hours hadattached to his name.The glad smile on bis face was checked

aud a presentiment of evil came into hismind as he glanced from the stern face of3f r. Wayne to the pale, sad features of hisfiancee.

"Ethel! Mr. Wayne!" he ejaculated, insurprise, " what has happeued ? What meansthis agitation?"

" What does it mean ?" cried the old man,placing a detaining hand between the twolovers. " It means, sir, that you have for-feited all claim to our friendship and respecthy your conduct. How dare you pollute agentleman's house with your presence or in-

sult its inmates while the street is ringingwith the story of your shame?"

Shame!" echoed the young man in sur-prise. "Strange words, Mr. Wayne."

" And true ones, sir. Do you deny therumors afloat concerning your swindling op-orations—the overissue of stooks and theirsale at a ruinous sacrifice?"

A chill struck the heart of the young man:is he realized the meaning of the coldness.i£ Mr. Wayne, of the silence of his daugh-

The stooks had been sold, then, and thenews had spread abroad.His manner indicated that there was some

foundation for the charges made, aud EthelWayne, with alow cry, sunk her head ou herfat Iter's shoulder."Ethel, my darling!" cried the young

man, springing forward, distressed beyondmeasure at this exhibition of her sorrow,and catching her hand in his own, "listento me. 1 may have consented to the over-issue of stocks, but only to save the com-pany."

" Silence, sir! Do not touch me!" criedthe maiden, raising her arm and flingingaside his band, while with head erect andflashing eyes she confronted him. " Dareyou stand in my presence after committingthe crime which nas brought disgrace anddishonor to you and' grief and shame to me ?

Never enter this house again ; never ap-proach me with hollow mockeries of affec-tion, for the man who can descend to thelevel of the swindler and the forger is be-neath any true woman's love."He bent his white face as if a blow had

struok him. He stood self-accused beforeher, and as she swept from the room it

seemed to him as if life and hope had gonewith her. In a dazed, meohamoal way hewalked through the opon door-way out in-to the hall and down the marble steps intothe street.Had Dayton led him into a trap ? Had

the story of the stocks by some fearful errorgot abroad, or was it a dream ?

As he moved on he saw nothing, beardnothing, until he had walked he knew nothow far.

A crowd had stopped the thoroughfare be-fore him and were reading the bulletin ofan evening paper posted conspiouously inthe window.He looked up and started into conscious-

ness as he read the lines in black, announc-ing his own doom, for the bulletin read

:

STARTLING DEVELOPMENTS!The Golconda Gold-Mining Company,

of Alameda, a Wreck!

Its Mines Flooded, its Bullion Lost at Sea,

and its Stock Worthless!

The President is a Defaulter and a Fugitivefrom Justioe!

He turned from the spot with a suppressedcry of amazement, doubt and horror.Was it true, or a dream ?

He started as a hand touched his shoulder,and raising his woe-haunted eyes he stoodface to face with a neatly dressed, profes-sional-looking man." Mr. Cecil Vivian ?" he sa;d.He bowed mutely." I arrest you in the name of the law," he

said slowly as he took his arm.The young man looked at him confusedly,

dazedly." Arrest me?" he repeated, slowly."Yes."" Upon what charge?"" Swindling and forgery."He allowed the man to lead him on.He had a dim. idea of a curious, pressing,

looking crowd, of a hurried drive in a closecarriage, of a brief few minutes in a dark,unwholesome office, of a clanking of irondoors, and then, as he realized that therewere iron bars shutting out the view fromwithout and iron doors the light fromwithin, he sunk unconscious on a woodenseat—a prisoner.

CHAPTER IV.THE INTERCEPTED LETTER.

A man in jail is a man in a tomb.It has been said that riches in a reforma-

tory or corrective institution purchase im-munity for the wealthy captive and bringto him many little attentions and delicaciesnot vouchsafed to the poor prisoner.Cecil Vivian found that in his especial

oase every prison-rule was strictly adheredto.

The peculiarity of his case, his inability tocommand bail, his utter desertion by hiBformer friends, emanated from a source helittle dreamed of.

Not satisfied with all the evil he hadworked, Gould Dayton had systematicallyfurnished the press and public with state-ments entirely false and calculated to tra-duce his character.

It was only when he had sent for GouldDayton and had an interview with him

that Cecil Vivian realized the true depths ofthe man's villainy.It was the day after his arrest, and be was

seated in a dejected attitude in bis prisoncell, when he heard the outer door of thecorridor of cells open, and a minute later helooked up as his name was called, to findGould Dayton standing at the door of hiscell.

"You, Gould!" ejaculated the prisoner,awakening from his moodiness and gloominto attention and interest as be saw his vis-itor. " I am glad you have oome."From the first he noticed a constrained

manner in his cousin's bearing.He did not magnify the change in his

appearance into anything important untilthe latter Eaid coolly :

" You are in a bad box, Cecil. Your ownjudgment should have taught you betterthan to attempt the wholesale fraud youundertook.""Fraud!" echoed, Vivian. "I tell you,

Gould, I do not understand these allusions.I am treated as a common felon, and oncharges utterly without foundation, andam not even allowed to send for my friends.The overissue of the stocks was bad enough,but the charges of forgery and swindling, asyou know, are utterly unfounded."" I know nothing of the kind," bluntly re-

plied the secretary. " You may play thatgame before the court, but It won't go downwith me. The ten certificates you gave meI handed to a friend to negotiate as agreedupon. Those bonds have entirely disap-peared, and in their place ten oonsecutivecertificates having entirely different num.bers hare been sold to the banks."From me!" ejaculated Cecil, in amaze-

ment." Yes; the cashier swears positively to the

fact of your individuality. I accuse you ofnothing, Cecil, but it looks bad for you."

" Why, I was at home the entire day andin bed!" exclaimed the prisoner. "So farfrom being abroad, I had just left homewhen I was arrested, having only called atMr. Wayne's house. You know this to "be afact, Gould."A perplexing anxiety began to evince 't-

self in the young man's face." I know what you say, that only. These

men positively swear to your presenting thestooks, and my signature is a forgery."Thepresident started as if a shot had struck

him. '

" Gould," hesaid, "are you in aplot againstme, or what is the mystety of this affair ? Ifthe stocks, running from one hundred andone to one hundred and ten inclusive, havenot been presented on the market, beforemy Maker I swear that I am innocent of anycrime. Under your instigation I signedthose papers ; beyond that I know nothingof these you refer to."The secretary was silent, and at that mo-

ment, a turnkey entering, the interviewterminated, Dayton agreeing to endeavor tosecure bail for his oousin, and to send himbis dressing-case and other necessaries.He never called again.The case came to trial and the prisoner

pleaded not guilty.It was a case whioh interested every one

and involved the employment of consider-able legal talent, and although every effortwas made to prove an alittl on the part ofthe prisoner, the evidence 'against him wasoverwhelming.Two bank cashiers swore distinctly to his

appearance, and to the purchase of th»stocks from him.Experts made affidavits to the fact that

the signature of the secretary was a forgeryIn vain the president explained and argued

'

the case was dead against him, and he wasadjudged guilty and sentenced on two sep.arate charges to penal servitude for fifteenyears.

It was upon the trial that Gould Daytoamanifested to his cousin the depth of perfidyand villainy of which he was capable:He never went near his unfortunate cousit

in jail, and while he marveled at the Bubsti'tution of the stocks for the original onesand pondered deeply over this mystery, heknew in his inmost heart that Cecil Vivianwas innocent; and so it became a nine-days'talk, and then gossip allowed some otherequally strange matter to take precedenceand the young financier disappeared frompublic view within the walls of a prion.Ethel, in the face of such overwhelming

evidence of the criminality of her lover, waswell-nigh heart-broken.Poverty or loss of friends never could have

turned the pure-minded girl from her lovefor him, but dishonor she shrunk from.She could not retain in her mind a respect

THE SATURDAY LIBRARY.

for the man who had trampled upon thetruth and aet society at open defiance.Tearfully and despairingly she laid down

her love, and met the world with half thesweetness of lite gone.Had she ever reoeived the letter whioh

Cecil Yiyian had written to her upon theday which found him a oondemned manshe might have gone to hisslde and oomfort-ed him in his loneliness and distress.

He had written her a letter, telling hereverything and beseeohing her to come tohim ere he was Bent to his prison home.She never came, and the weary heart, over-

burdened and feeling -at enmity with all

mankind, hardened like the nnimpressibleheart of a stoio.The keen eyes of the secretary had seen

Vivian hand a letter to a boy to mail uponthe evening wheu an adverse deoision wasreached in his case.To prevent its reaching its destination he

would risk everything.Hefollowed the messenger from the court-

room, watched him approach the letter-boxand drop the missive into it.

He oonsulted his watch ; it was 6:30 p. m.,and the last evening mail had been colleott dfrom the boxes. Then his eyes lighted witha demoniac expression as he hit upon a planto prevent the delivery of the letter to thelady for whom it was intended, for heintuitively divined that it was for EthelWayne.He repaired to a drug store, ordered sev-

eral articles and went to his room to arrangethe infernal machiue whioh was to destroythe letter and its companions in the letter-box.At nine o'clock that night he went to the

vicinity of the box, and at a moment whenno one seemed to be observing him droppedan oblong objeot into the slit in the recep-tacle for letters, first applying his cigar toa fuse which protruded from one end of themysterious package.Then he turned quickly from the spot,

crossed the road, and stood in the shadow ofa door-wayawaiting the result of his scheme.There was a pause, a dull report within the

little box, and then satisfied that within afew minutes the letters contained in it

would be a mass of cinders he hastenedfro— the spot.

lie started as, turning the corner of thestreet, he came face to face with a manwhose eyes glittered and glowed upon himas he passed- him with menacing signifi-

cance.Both men went on their way, but the

secretary felt a vague fear at his heart as herecognized in the lurid eye and evil face ofthe man the miner, Tom Jones.On the trail, sure enough ; on the track of

the man who had lured him to sin and left

him unrecompensed.The rough miner, in carrying out his own

schemes of vengeance, was unconsciouslyaiding the successful exposition of the plotagaiust the life itself of Cecil "Vivian.

CHAPTER V.

IN THE PRISON.Cecil Vivian was conducted to prison.

To the delicately nurtured child of fortuneand refinement this life had horrors un-known to those of coarser mold.The prison-rot sickened and disgusted

him with an existence the monotony anddreariness of which appalled, him and filled

him with thoughts of suicide.

He never noticed a man who entered theprison about one year after he had beenhpti t t h prp

It was Tom Jones, the miner, but he hadnever seen him before and did not knowhim now.He observed the white pallor of the man's

face when he first saw hltn, but prison rule

prevented any conversation, although hewas startled onffday by being called ' Da-cre" by the new prisoner;The presence of a guard interrupted any

further conversation, and Vivian, with aperplexed air, resumed bis labor at thework-bench.There was another man who, of all that

motley gang, the prisoner had noticed andevinced a genuine sorrow for. This was a

gray-headed man of perhaps fifty years,

whose lines of sorrow on his broad, intel-

lectual forehead and care-worn features be-

spoke a suffering the sentiment of whichprecluded the idea of any innate baseness.

Often the magnetic eyes had met those

of Vivian, and there was a tacit althoughunexpressed friendship existing betweenthem. . ,. .

At seven o'olook every evening the huge

wooden doors were closed over the inteiioriron frames, and from that moment untilsix the following morning the prisonerswere kept in solitary seclusion, with nolight save that whioh penetrated the dia-mond-shaped hole in the doors, or suoh aswas afforded by the moon or stars throughtheir barred windows.Cecil Vivian had often marked out a pre-

sumptive course of escape if the opportunityever presented itself, but he never schemedto perfeot such a plan through his own un-aided efforts.

In the prison he was known as No. 93.His name was never called from the day

he entered its doors.Upon his breast, ia blue worsted figures,

was sewed the nember he went by—93.The prisoner in the next oell adjoining

that of Vivian, however, was known throughthe prison, by name, being referred to asColonel Andre, the murderer.The doors of the cells had been closed

fully half an hour one evening, and silencereigned within the huge dormitory of theprison, when Cecil Vivian's attention wasattracted from observing the distant moon-lit waters without, and sadly meditatingover the lost past, by three distinct knocksupon the stone partition separating his cellfrom the one adjoining.Among prisoners, commonly at war with

the keepers of a jail, and ever willing to con-ceal anything from them and to aid andabet a fellow-prisoner, a signal is a sufficientreason for attention.The knocking continued at intervals, night

after night, until he was not a little sur-prised to observe a piece of hard mortardrop from its crevice, followed immediatelythereafter by the moving of a stone, andthen in an instant the truth flashed upon hismind.Colonel Andre, the so-called murderer, his

next-cell companion,had penetrated the wallbetween their cells, and the supposition onthe part ot Vivian was soon verified as theblock of stone was pushed from its place,followed by a human head."Hist!" came in alow tone.He placed his head near the aperture and

looked. There was the pale face before him,the well-known features of the colonel.He held in his hand a chisel with whioh he

had made the embrasure, and half leaningthrough he spoke in a low tone of voioe

:

"Lay down upon your bunk with yourbead near the hole so the guards may not seeme if they suspect anything. I have some-thing o£ importance to both you.and myselfto tell."

The young man obeyed him mechanically,coolly, his quiet composure ot manner con-trasting strangely with the nervous tremu-lousness of the other, who, resuming a re-cumbent posture, bent half way throughthe breach made in the partition, and saidin a low, trembling tone of voice:

" The tools I have used in communicatingwith you I obtained a month since. I havecut the bars at my window and could haveescaped a week ago. I have used the utmostcaution in my work. Do you know why I

did not escape at once—why I have riskedthis much, all my chanoe of escape, perhaps,by thus delaying and breaking through toyou?"The young man moved his head negatively."Because," went on the colonel, in a hur-

ried, agitated manner, " I want you to es-

cape with me.""I! do you mean this?"A new light broke in upon the prisoner's

mind, anew hope set his pulse throbbingwildly, his heart beatiDg with the sameanxious turbulency whioh his companionevinced."Hist!" cried the other warningly. "One

loud word and all our plans may fail. Yes,

I offer you a chance'for freedom, but I de-maud a reward."" Any honorable return I can make you,

be sure I will do," said the young maneagerly." I know it. I was sure of it. Listen to

me, No. 93. Since I first saw you, of all themen I have ever seen your face attracted

me. Your honest, pitying glance inspired

me with confidence in you. You believe meinnocent. Nay, I can read you. You at

least deem metheviotim of circumstances.

I can read extenuation of my crime in yourface. I can see that you too are a wrongedman."You are not known here, save as 93.

Your name is a mystery to every man in this

prison; mine is a distinctive title. I amcalled a murderer, and the future has manyrisks for me. With much to accomplish if I

regain my liberty, do you wonder that I seek

an assistant—that I offer you freedom withthe promise that you aid me in the execu-tion of two of the most powerful motiveswhich actuate the human heart—love andvengeance?

." I trust you, my friend, and I am going to

tell you my story. Then if you accede to myrequest we join lotB and endeavor to escape

;

if not, then I go alone, with no hindrance onyour part. Is this understood ?"

The youug man bowed his head assent-ingly.

CHAPTER VI.

THE BRETHREN OE THE BLOOD." If my story is not along one," continued

the man, keeping the same watchful air forany sound on the outside, " it is as strange aone as you ever heard. I shall tell it to yousimply as a man would divulge a secret to astranger to whom some irresistible attrac-tion had drawn him—whose manner had in-vited confidence, and whose honest soulshining in the eyes repelled any suspicion ofa violation of that candor. I trust in you toretain ray secret—more, I depend on you toassist me in unraveling amystery, in defeat-ing a possible crime, in establishing therights of a woman whom I ask you to makeyour wife."The young prisoner regarded his older com-

panion pityingly. In his restless eyes he hadinsanity, in his manner the evidences of anhonorable career misspent, perhaps thewasting of noble energies and a high order ofintellect in pursuit of wealth or in somecriminality. He listened quietly, however,as the former went on

:

" My name is George Andre, and I won thetitle of colonel In the Mexican war. Bornwealthy, I reoeived a fine education, losingmyfatherand mother, the latter at my birth,the former one yearprevious to my enteringthe army. I went through the Mexican warwith a few slight wounds, and when I leftthe servicelweutwith a scoreof others of mycompanions to Lower California, where itwas reported vast deposits of gold had beenfound."In my travels thither I became acquaint-

ed on the way with a Spaniard named DonAlvarez Cervantes. We became friendly audfamiliar, although he was a much older manthan myself. At his hacienda I remained formany weeks and there met aud loved hisbeautiful daughter Inez." Among our party was a man whom all

disliked and whom we had regarded withsuspicion aud aTersion ever since his first

joiniDg us on our way to Old California. Thedou owned and operated extensive miningclaims near his hacienda and the majorityof our company remained there working inthe mines tor him or in the immediate vicin-ity on their own individual account. Mars-ton, the man referred to, remained withthem. Of his past history, save that he hadbeen a sutler and speculator in our regi-ment, we knew nothing. One thing, how-ever, impressed me strongly—he loved theDonna Inez." His openly expressed preference for the

lady forced me to early measures, and I pro-posed for the heart and hand of the don'slovely daughter and received both. For oneyear we led a life of unalloyed bliss and thenour little child, Portia, was born." Marston was sullen aud unfriendly over

my success in winning the band of the seno-nta, and more than once I caught his eyefixed jealously and malignantly upon my-self. I knew his evil nature would seek re-venge, but I guarded against any suddenattack by exerting the utmost vigilance. Itwas in vain. Some seoret influence was atwork and the vengeance of the villain wasconsummated quickly and terribly." One by one the mines of the don were

mysteriously flooded or . ruined. His resi-dence was burned, his stock poisoned, andalthough we suspected Marston of being atthe bottom of all these iniquities, not theslightest clew could be obtaiued which wouldimplicate him in the atrocities referred to.

Finally, however, I resolved to watch him,individually, for I was positive that the de-struction of the property of my father-in-law had been instigated or committed byhim and his confederates, and I one eveningtraced him from the village to a rocky defileleading from the hacienda to a lonely por-tion of the mountains." It was a cloudless night with a crescent

moon, aud the exquisite starlight served tohide me in the distance as I followed hisBteps and to show his outline plainly as 1sprung from tree to tree, from rook torock." He was on horseback and I on foot, but

6 THE SATURDAY LIBRARY.

I kept the same distance steadily betweenus, he being unable to urge his horae to moretbau nu ordiunry trot over the rough andunfrequented mountain-road.

" At hist he reached a point where theroad made an abrupt divergence to the leftand descended along a rocky cliff into avalley. Here, at a point where the gulohbranched off into opposite directions, beforea deep fissure in the rooks, he paused. I

watched him curiously. He rolled a stoneaway from its place easily, and as he did soan aperture appeared leading into apparentdarkness. Then heentered and disappearedfrom my view." I waited a few minutes and then boldly

determined to advance into the secret ofthe cave, for I doubted not this was an en-trance to it, and immediately crawled intothe hole.

"There was a long, narrow, and low pas-sage, gaining in height as I advanced andfinally widening into a large room. Iu aniche in the rook was a spirit-lamp that,flaring up, cast a brilliant radiance over theroof and sides of the cavern, which werecomposed of glittering stalactites that hungpendant, refleotiug a myriad of prismaticrays, varied and beautiful as those of therainbow," I was lost in admiration of the scene

when my eyes rested upon the second sub-terranean corridor leading from this cave,and supplied here and there with lampsplaced iu Assures of the solid rock evidentlyintended to light the way to some place still

further in the mountain." I hastened on, noting that the pathway

was well trodden and smooth until it cameto a door made of solid forest wood, pend-ant on huge, frame binges firmly imbeddedin the rock. It yielded to my touch, swungopen, and I had just time to spring into adark recess to evade the notice of a dozen ormore persons gathered in a semicircle in thevast cavern which I had so strangely en-tered.

"It was an Aladdin-like dream of beauty,wonderment and marvels."The cave was resplendent with magnifi-

cent rock crystals, reflecting a thousandvaried hues from the light radiated towardthem from perfumed lamps hung from thelofty ceiling." In the center of the place, perched upon

a high ] lattoi in of white, transparent stone,resembling -gypsum or alabaster, was a fig-

ure hewu fruui solid rock, such as I hadnever seen berore. It was a dark, forbid-ding representation of the Azteo god o£ dimtradition—Zeus Intlamma. I recognized it

at once as the object of superstition, theworshiped divinity of a fanatio sect thendying out, called the Brethren of the Blood,whose devotees dwelt amid the ancientruins of Mexico." In the center ot the altar upon a pure

white shield were other symbols iu blood-red characters, and in the hand of the idolwas a scepter of gold, upon the end ofwhich, glaring and burning like a fiery sun,was an Immense yellow diamond."It emanated such a flood of molten,

liquid light, so subtle, so diffusive, that myeyes were almost blinded by the light of it.

Of immense value, and doubtless ancient asthe knowledge of the mountain itself whichconcealed it from the eyes of unbelievers,its votaries here worshiped the fiery symbolof their belief.

"I had heard of the order, had often won-dered at their strange fidelity to their cause,and at once divined the secret influence ofthe villain. Mars ton was a member of theorder." By what means he, a stranger, had been

accepted as a member I know not. I onlyknow that, seated there with the dark-skin-ned, burning-eyedremnant of a race almostextinct, he conversed with them in a puredialect, simple and of but few words, andspoken very generally in Central America.I understood their conversation very thor-oughly and I listened intently, every wordsounding distinct and loud in the reverberat-ing cavern."

' I have kept my promise, Brethern ofthe Blood,' Marston was saying. ' You haveaided me in my plot against my rival, and I

in return have delivered to you secrets ofthe army's movements, of the movementsof its dispersed members in whom you seefit to be interested. I desire the Donna luezand the death of my rival.'

" ' It cannot be done,' said one of the men,who, richly although quaintly attired, ap-peared to be a high-priest or other import-ant official of the order. ' Death can onlybe dealt out by Brethren of the Blood to its

direct enemies. This man you hate has doneno overt act to entail such a doom.'" ' He is my enemy, and am I not a mem-

ber of your order and a friend to all yourmovements ?' replied Marston. ' Of whatavail is the burning of the don's hacienda,

the poisoning of his flocks, the destruction

of his mines aud other property if he, myenemy, lives and the senorita is not mine?'" Tbe Aztec was silent for a few minutes

deeply engaged iu looking over a roll of

parchment he held in his hand, finally hesaid

:

," 'Brother,' when you entered this orderwe promised mutual society and aid. Wehave extended it to you. Further than wehave done we will not do. Let thatsufflce.'" A flush of anger, deep and uncontrolla-

ble, evinced the ready passion of the other.

"' Beware!' he said, revealing his true

spirit to the men about him. ' Tour seorets

are '

" He paused. Quick as thought the Aztecarose."

' Go!' he said, haughtily, pointing to theentrance of the cave. ' For two centuries

the secrets of this branch of the order havebeen vested within the knowledge of whiteand black, brown and red. Every race hasknown us, every station in society has rep-resented us. Never has a traitor lived to

enjoy the reward of his treachery. "Wide-spreading as the banyan-tree our order pro-tects aud watohes. The symbols of it arepotent to protect, powerful to watch, terri-

ble to punish. Gol We renounce you as anunworthy hypocrite. Hen6eforth your everyfootstep will be watched, your every wordheard, your doom inevitable.'." The villain arose with a sullen air and

left tbe spot. I watched a favorable oppor-tunity and also departed. That night themau disappeared, and for a year I noverheard of him." To no human being did I divulge what I

had seen in the cave. While I deplored theneoessity which made them destroy ourproperty, I knew these depredations wouldoease now that the selfish member of theorder who had instigated them was an out-cast from its benefits and privileges. I re-spected their sincerity and principles whichforbade the useless shedding of blood, andlived a year of unalloyed happiness andbliss.

"One day I was hunting in the ravinewhere I had met with my singular ad-venture when I was suddenly startled bythe appearance before me of a man in astrange Oriental garb, whom I at oncerecognized as one of the inmates of thecavern upon the night of my visit to theabode of their strange, inanimate but be-loved deity." He was terribly excited, and was tearing

bis long, white, flowing beard and givingutterance to strange cries. I approached himand spoke to him in his own dialect."

' You are in distress,' I said, kindly.'Nay, do not start from me, for I am afrieud to you. What means this emotionn pftu the part of a worshiper of Zeus In-flamma?'" The man started and turned his burning

eyes upon me." ' Art thou, too, a member?' he inquired,

making a singular challenging signal withhis baud."

' Nay—a friend.'" Strange words are these of the race of

our destroyers. Leave me to myself. Al-ready your countrymen have robbed us ofa jewel inestimable in value and ancient asotr order.'"'Ah, then Marston has robbed you!' I

cried in amazed tones."'Yes; dost thou know him?' eagerly in-"

quired the man. ' Listen, thou of the whitefaoe. This man thou speakest of was amember of our order. He proved a traitoraud we dismissed him. By some surrepti-tious means he gained our cave this day audtook with him from the scepter of our deity >

the mountain of flame—the yellow diamondof Atirza-Hujui, the originator of our sect.Aside from its intrinsic value the legendconnected with it predicts blood, ruin anddisaster to our order if lost. It is gone;it is stolen and there is mourning in ourorder.'" I was infinitely sorry. The man's rare

simplicity of manner, the opportunity ofmaking him a true friend of the don, mademe resolve to assist him." ' Listen I ' I said. " I know this man and

I know you. I am a friend to you. I willfollow him. I can penetrate where youmight not, and I will try to return yourstolen treasure.'" I left him, and with a noted trail-hunter

in tbe don's employ tracked Marston fromstation to station, from village to village. Iovertook him at last. Iu a log groggery inHouston, surrounded by men whose revolv-ers never rested, whose knives never grewrusty, I placed the barrel of my pistol to hisforehead and took the stone from him byforoe." I returned to the hacienda of my father*

in-law." To describe to you the rapturous joy of

the Azteos when I returned the lost jewel tothem would be to tell you of the moat ex-travagant demonstrations of delight. Theyhad invested the diamond wkh veritablemagical attributes, and had believed allcalamitous catastrophes would follow its

appropriation." They loaded me with presents, promised

me proteotion and aid at all times, and re-stored the flocks of Don Alvarez by newaccessions of stock."They rebuilt the burned quarters and

Elaced the mines in their original condition,esides paying large damages for their

former depredations at the instigation ofMarston." A third year went by, the villain never

appearing. The Aztecs informed me thathe would be doomed ere he ever appearedwithin their limits again." My father-in-law dying, we sold the

hacienda and realized quite a fortune, re-solving to repair to New York and investin some business with my own funds, inbank at that point." One day the old chief of the Aztecs came

to me bearing a little box. He then told methat as I was going away, and as the order,owed me a lasting debt of gratitude, he de-sired to mark upon the arm of my onlydaughter, Portia, the mystic symbols of theirorder." They had resolved to thus impress the

signs of the Brethren of the Blood, andwhen she was of age they would reward myfriendship to them by presenting her with aroyal present." I attempted to refuse. He was not to

be put off, and the three symbols of theBrethren of the Blood were firmly impress-ed upon my child's right arm in indeliblefigures. He presented her with a singularnecklace of precious stones aud gold^^dmyself with a ring, all bearing reference tothe order, took my address aud bade me ' naffectionate farewell, first giving me a sealedletter to one Hayri, an astrologer in the cityto which I was bound, requesting me to callupon him and deliver the letter if I everwas in trouble and needed assistance."Ab the man spoke he took from its hiding-

place a curious circlet of gold, having forIts setting a plain, polished agate-stone. Ashe touched a spring this flew back, revealinga cavity lined with gold, in the bottom ofwhich appeared three mysterious signs indark enamel.the svmbols of the secret orderof the Brethren of the Blood." Keep this ring," continued the colonel.

" If you assent to my proposition it shallbe' yours."The young man took the ring while the

.

convict resumed :

"The year following my arrival in NewYork City I lost my .wife. I had removedto a little suburb and had engaged in busi-ness in the city. One day I came face toface with Marston. He never noticed meand I refrained from speaking to him ; butfrom that moment my life became one ofuntold misery.

. Mysterious men followedme. Strange missives greeted me at everymail. I believed myself surrounded by anorganized band of murderers and thieves inthe employ of my vengeful rival." One day I returned to my home and met

one of the spies near my house. For myselfI cared not, but for my child. Ah ! there hewould strike! I felt convinced of it, andplaced her in charge of a woman who re-sided in a secluded portion of theoity. ThenI set at work to sell my business and myproperty. I succeeded, but at such a sacri-fice that I had but ten thousand dollarsafter the sale."To evade the evil machinations of my

enemy I resolved to take my child andleave the oountry, seeking some quiet spotin Europe-. •

" The day before that upon which I hadmade arrangements to leave I received anote from Mrs. Harris, the lady who hadcharge of my child. Portia was lost orstolen." In my rage and certainty that this fiend,

Marston, had a hand in it, I sought him out.I was so excited that I did not notice twomen—roughs of the lowest order—followingme, doubtlessly attraoted bymy rich watch-

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chain and guard, carelessly displayed In myintense excitement.

' It was dark when I reached the place ofbis abode. I found him in his room with afriend engaged at a game of oards. I

charged him with stealing my ohild. Hedenied the charge. We had hot words, iuwhich he and his friend thrust me Irom theroom."I had drawn my revolver in that moment

of passion, aud as I was thrust into the hallI was oaught about the neok by one of thetwo men who had followed me, the otherattempting to rob me. I fired, and he fell

dead. Then I left the spot."That night I was arrested for willful

murder. Torn Jones, the oompanion of theman I had killed, swore that he and his com-panion were attempting to put me out ofthe building at the instigation of the manMarstou, for disorderly conduct. I wastried, found guilty of manslaughter audsentenced for lite to this prison.

" Lying iu ray prison after senten oe, theman Marstou came to me. He taunted meand enraged me; told me he knew my se-

cret of the mysterious marks on Portia'sarm—of the fortune awaiting her. But healso told me he knew nothing of her where-about." He said he had hired Jones to swear to

the falsehood ; he had uever.seen Joues be-fore the time of the shooting of Davis, his

comrade. He would find Portia, he said,

and complete his revenge. '

"This man Jones is uow an inmate of this

prison. I have never spoken to him, neverhaving had the opportunity. He can clear

me—he alone—if what Marstou said wastrue."Of Portia I never heard. For fifteen

years, in misery aud distress, I have spent alife of woe and sorrow behind these bars.

To-night we are free." Listen to me, young man, and promise

me that if I aid you to escape from here youwill Join me iu finding my daughter ; thatyou will aid me in revenging myself uponthis man Marston, who has wrecked my life

and perhaps the happiness of my daughter.Promise me, if I 'die in escaping, that youwill prosecute the search for her, and if youand her will marry her aud claim the fort-

une -from the Brethren of the Blood. Prom-ise me this, and I will send you from this

prison a free man and a rich one."The young man had been regarding the

face of the prisoner curiously, piteously.

Now a look of the most absolute surprise at

the strangeness of the request filled bis

mind. Believiug him insane he, however,humored his whim."I promise it." he said earnestly."Swear it! Raise your right band to

heaven, and swear as you hope for forgive-

ness from yourMaker for all your sins, byall your belief iu that future life, to carryout my desires and wed my daughter—topunish the destroyer of my life."

There was a terrible earnestness in the

man's manner—a pleading iuteusity in his

excited gestures."I swear it!" came solemnly from the

young man's lips, believiug he was makingthe pledge to a madman. **.,*,The older convict uubuttoned his frock

and theu his coarse under-habit, revealing

as he did so two strips of worn cloth andbuckskin tied across his chest.

He unfastened this, unrolled it, and tak-

ing out apiece of paper worn and yellow,

handed it to his companion.The young man took it, and by the dim

light penetrating thiough the bars of his cell

from the lamp without, read as follows:

"Received from George Andre the sum of

ten thousand dollars, special deposit, pay-

able to bearer on demand."Goldex, Dretei, & Co., Bankers."

For the first time during his conversation

with his fellow-prisouer did Vivian believe

him sane. . _. .

The certificate was genuine. His former

business experience incliued him to that be-

lief, and he handed it back to the man.The other waved it away from him with

the words

:

T"No—keep it! For fifteen years I have

carried that certificate, which was upon mebefore being arrested. Before I was brought

here and after conviction, 1 managed to ob-

tain this pad for my chest from the jail

Dhv»ician. When examined I had hidden it

with the ring in the pad, which they aliowedme to retain. If we escape, well aud good.

We will obtain the money and proseoute our

search for my lost daughter. If I am capt-

ured use it as you will to accomplish the

ends you have sworn to attain. Hark ! doyou hear that?"Both listened ; a bell sounded. Theguards

were being relieved; the hour for escapehad arrived.There was a sound of arms ringing on the

stone upon the roof, the noise of humanvoioes, the tramp, tramp of the sentries up-on their monotonous rounds, and then thecolonel said

:

" Crawl into my cell at onoe."The youug man did as requested.The excitement of the moment lent a new

vigor to his frame, a flush to his ordinarilypaleface.The oolonel approached the window and

opened it ; took out the bars oue by one.They had been sawed through a week be-fore. He then lifted the coarse mattress ofhis cot and drew therefrom a rope."Now, listen to me," he whispered. "I

will attach the rope to the irou ends of thebed aud drop it to the ground beneath. Icfalls over the lower tier of cells aud into thewater of the ditch thirty feet below. Youdescend when I give the signal, quietly,quickly. I will follow at once. Then strikeout independently of me for the river, cross,

and gain the hills." Once there, if you do not find me, go at

once to New York, secrete yourself, auddraw the money. I will communicate withyou through the Herald."He spoke quietly, earnestly, as 'he fixed

the rope aud dropped it over the windowand into the darkness beneath."Yonder," he said, pointing to the wall

whioh ran out directly opposite the window,"the guard passes every three minutes.Now is your,time. Go, aud if I am killed orovertaken, remember your oath."" I remember," slowly spoke the young

man.He crawled through the window and be-

gan to descend.As he reached the tier of cells below he

went very slowly', for he counted upon theconviots being asleep.As the rope went directly over one of the

windows, his face, being turned within,met the full glow of a light shining throughthe diamond-hole iu the cell-door. To his

horror he found himself face to face with aprisoner.

It was Tom Jones, the convict

!

Afterward it seemed as a dream to him,those ensuing few seconds. Just then it wasa terrible reality.The convict was screaming and yelling for

the guards."You, you, Arnold Dacre.!"he yelled, in

a voice iu which passion, alarm; aud vin-dictive triumph blended. "Ah! I'vecaughtyou, and you shan't go. It was you androur devilish employee who sent me here,

t was you and Dayton, the fiend that sent

me to scuttle the ship, then betrayed me.Ho, guards! an escape, an escape!"There was a sound of heavy feet on the

esplanade above and a glaring of lights.

He heard the sharp report of n gun, min-gled with the cry of a disappointed man.Then, as he struck the ground a body shotdownward near him aud was lost in thedarkuess. It was the unfortunate ColonelAndre.Then, with a prayer for help and deliver-

ance, Cecil Vivian struck out boldly, climb-ing the walls by the meaus Colonel Andrehad already prepared, and raced like ahound down to the Hudson, into whose ooldwaters he pluuged, Just beyond the railroad

track.His first step had been taken toward free-

dom.Liberty

!

As a bird, pinion-poised and free from anentanglement of fetters aud cage, soars

aloft, with exultant thrill and joyful cry,

after a long confinement within unnaturalbonds, so Cecil Vivian, with stroke after

stroke, swam away from the hated prison.

He experienced a sense of delight, whichhis immediate peril and almost certainty of

recapture failed to render less-intense or tri-

umphant.To breathe the cool, fresh air without the

presence of a guard, to breast the current,

confident in a strength augmented by thenearness of future freedom, sent warmblood in a hot rush through every artery

and vein of his frame, lending to it renewedyouth and activity and powers of endur-ance.He was a noble swimmer, and forgot all

the brooding misery of the past, his mindfilled only with a determined resolution to

outdo his pursuers or die in the attempt.In a straight line he would reach a point

whioh shelved down to the bank leading

from a prettv summer villa which he hadoften watohed from the high window of hislonely prison cell.

So aocustomed had his eye been to seeingthis spot and the landscape surrounding it

that it had become a monotonous picture inhis mind, and even in the white moonlight,dim aud uncertain, he knew that he couldtraoe his way to a place of security.He laughed, the first utterance of the kind

that had escaped his lips for months, as hethought of outwitting his pursuers.The prison and shore were gradually fad-

ing away iu the misty distance; their lightsgrew more and more dim ; the shouts of themen getting out the boats became more re-mote, and he exultantly saw the" spot be-tween the high promontory and the regularelevation of rocks grow nearer and nearer.In the midst of his apparent success at es-

cape a sudden thrill of terror pervaded hisframe.He had smiled at the idea of the boats

overtaking him on the Hudson, with hisdexterous skill iu evading them ; be hadscoffed at the thought of their bulletsreaching him in the uncertain moonlight,but a new cause of fear had arisen. A gun-boom went over the waters, the signal tothe guard on the shore.Suddenly a light bright as day shone out

upon the waters, dazzling the eyes of theswimmer—a reflected light on the shore.

It shone over the waters, aud falling withcruel radiance on the swirmoer revealed hisform struggling iu the water as plainly asdaylight.The bank was now only afew rods distant,

tut lights Hashed hither and thither, and thepreseuce of the guards gathering at the spotwhere he proposed landing was plainly ap-parent.The realization of his position had weak-

ened him.To lose liberty when almost within his

grasp was too terrible to think of.

Behind him the approaching boat of theprison-keepers ; before bim the shore-guard

;

to one side an only chance to escape, an un-certain risk, but Burely worth the venture.With a sudden dive he disappeared from

view, swam rapidly under the water, andwhen he again arose puffing and panting tothe surface he was outside the radius of thelight.For a little time he rested on the water

and surveyed the scene behind him.Plainly visible, the guard-boat shot over

the spot where be had gone down.There was no time to lose, no time to spend

in so dangerous a locality, and with asecond dive he gained a Bpot a rod furtherfrom the place, then swam rapidly towardthe bank.Reached at last! Tired, breathless, almost

exhausted, be grasped a frieudly rock andraised himself upward to a standing positionwithout the water.Step by step, hand over hand, he climbed

the weary ascent, never pausing, never look-ing down, aud at last with a sigh of relief

he drew himself upward over the shelvingtop aud stood safely upon the earth.What was that ?

A cold thrill pervaded his frame as a hu-man form started forward Upon him.In the light of the moon he saw the glit-

tering uniform of a guard.

CHAPTER VII.

THE SECKET SYMBOLS,

With a sudden movement he sprung uponthe man, caught him by the throat, forcedhim to the ground aud smote his headagainst the rocks. Then he sprung up audflew from the spot with the bounding gaitof a startled fawn.A shot was fired after him, but missed.He hurried on, tearing over the uneven

surface, and finally came to an abrupt stopat a low wall sin rounding the villa towardwhich he had first directed his way.

Its garden at that point, whioh he reachedafter he had leaped thestone wall, was over-grown with weeds and-straggliug vines, audas he heard the sounds of his pursuers, at-tracted thither byjthe report of tire-arms, hedashed recklessly, breathlessly onward. Thevilla itself was a two-story stone building,and as he came into the shadow of its leftwing he found himself fairly cornered.In the thoroughfare without lanterns

flashed hither and thither.In the rear the sounds of his pursuers evi-

denced the fact that they were close uponhis trail.

Fairly cornered, yet two methods of es-cape seemed open to him—a bold dash

8 THE SATURDAY LIBRARY.

through t'le pnrds without, or concealmentin the house, tiefore him.He would undoubtedly have- risked the

first method in the rxeiteiuetit mid impulseof the moment, had he not seen in the angleof the building a water-pipe running up tothe roof.In a moment his design was in process of

execution.With n quick movement he mounted the

pipe, drew himself thence to a little trellis-work, and as he reached the roof crouchedlow nebi-nd a chimney, safe lor the present,at least, from his pursuers.He lay in the shadow of the chimney, si-

lent, breathless, exhausted, his eyes fixed onthe opposite wall.He saw a form come to the open window

and gaze out, the light within the room re-vealing a dark-skinned beauty, whose brighteyes flashed magnetically as she peeredforth.There were the sounds of whistles, sig-

nals, shouting aud commotion.The tumult faded at last, the lights re-'

ceded from the buiiTing, aud a feeling of re-lief was experienced by the escaped convictas he saw that the guards had been thrownon a false scent and had goue, as they sup-posed, in close pursuit of bim.Should he leave at once or remain quiet

until the guards returned from their searchfor him?In the Impetuosity of his nature he re-

solved to place as much territory as waspossible between himself and the prison.He half arose, and then he parsed.The young woman in the room, the win-

dow of which was not ten feet from him,had moved the lamp so its rays shone direct-ly on the wall opposite.Should be attempt to descend she would

be sure to discover him, and he resolved towait until she had left the apartment or hadretired to rest.For the present, however, she had appar-

ently uo intention of doing either.She took up a book, seated herself by the

open window, turned over its pages idly,and then her meditative gaze fell musinglyupon the gently moving leaves, the sum-mer-night's stars, and the convict watchedher impatiently.She could not have been more than twenty

years of age, but beautiful iu form and feat-ure.She was, in short, a lady whom all men

would admire, few love, and none confidein. What her capabilities were for lovingor hating, the firm, gently compressedmouth told. What her powers of enchant-ing were the curl of the lips iu smiling onlytoo well indicated.She could allure, repel, or hold at a dis-

tance, as she chose.Suddenly she arose with a weary sigh,

went to the marble-topped dressing-caseand stood for a moment, intently regardingherself in the mirrcr.The full beauty of her face flashed upon

the vision of the escaped convict as shestood thus, and as her hands undid a splen-did brooch of diamonds, he saw with satis-faction that his chance to retreat wouldsoon be afforded.She approached the window and raised

her hand to pull down the shade. As shedid so the loose, flowing sleeve of her dressfell back, revealing the well-rounded out-lines of the fair arm.A suppressed cry burst involuntarily from

the lips of the escaped convict, for there,

Slainly revealed in the radiant lamplight,ark and distinct, upon the fair arm, imme-

diately above the elbow, were three marks,which were burned into the memory of theyoung man from that eventful night'sscenes.and which were now plainly revealedto his amazed gaze—the symbols of the so-ciety of the Brethren of the Blood.

CHAPTER VIII.

IN THE WHITE MOONLIGHT.

Was it imagination—was it reality ?

Fate works curious coincidences and cir-cumstantial combinations, and he had of asurety, that first night of his escape, comeface to face, although unknowing and un-known, to the fair woman, whom the shadeof the window now shut out from his sight,whom he had sworn to wed.He descended the trellis and the water-

pipe, and reached, the ground full of strangethoughts.

If this woman lived here, and he must ofnecessity return so near the place of hisformer incarceration, what disguise wouldserve to hide bim from the hounds whom

Gould Dayton would Bet upon his track to

discover him t

Ah! a gleam of hope entered his mind as

be thought of the money of his probablydead prison companion.With that once in ids possession, what

thorough changes of face and apparel werenot possible?He glanced past the corner of the building,

stood undecided for a moment, aud thenstarted away on a keen run.Ajperilous move ! Had he remained where

he was for an hour more, had he taken an-other road, his discovery by two guards re-

turning from the search would not have oc-

curred.Sudden as a flash of light, as he darted on

a path near the main road, a commandingvoice cal'ed out

:

"Halt!"He stood still, frozen, petrified with hor-

ror.

To be taken now, when life and libertywere so near, to go back to thatawfufservi-tude, was terrible to contemplate." Convict 93, lift up your hands."The order came quickly, peremptorily,

followed by the sharp click of a gun-lock.Both guards had raised their pieces to a

level with the head of the man ten feet be-fore them.He lifted his hands as they spoke, raised

them above his head, and then sprung back-ward.

It was a feint but it served his purpose.As he fell to the ground quickly two re-

ports sounded on the still night air, andwhen the smoke cleared away the convictwas gone.Unheeding and reckless, he dashed for-

ward.If it meant death, it should be here, under

the free vault of heaven, drinking iu thepure, fresh air, and sacrificing himself to re-gain a position among men.The moon swune high iu the heavens, but

its light was toned down, mellow and soft,and the thickly interspersed trees hid himwell as he hastened on through the forest.Death! Another halt! another surprise!

Was the oountry at large scouring for him ?

Ho came almost face to face with a manwhose gun and manner indicated that hewas a hunter—a man-hunter.He leaped over a bush, sprung into a side-

path, and escaped this danger, too.Hark! what was that? Pursuers! He

knew it now; not one, not two, but half adozen, and as he saw a light glimmeringthrough the trees he resolved to gain somecovert and hide, for he was incapable oflonger standing the exhaustion of constanttravel after the wearying events of thatnight.

At length he reached a little fence, leapedit, ran up a garden path, and crouched lowon the vine-shaded piazza of a little cottagefronting the road.Through the open window he saw a form

—the form of a woman—quietly sewing.Her keen hearing was not at fault. The ad-vent of the convict was noticed by her.She arose and came to the large, open

window, while he, pale, breathless and 'ex-cited, faced her with a haunted look and anappealing eye.

'• I am the escaped convict," he said. " Ifyou have a father, a brother, a lover, saveme for their sakes. Providence will rewardyou for your deed, for I am an innocent anda suffering man."Did he notice the ghastly pallor of the

woman's face, or was he too entirely en-grossed in his own escape to heed her trem-bling form, her quivering voice, the handreached out to catch, the window-sill, as ifto prevent her from falling ?

Obeying more her mute, tacit consentthan her words, " Come in," he sprungthrough the window and stood in the mid-dle of the room, excited, anxious and unde-cided.She opened a door leading to the little at-

tic in the house aud motioned him thither.He obeyed her without questioning, with-out hesitation, ascended the stairs, and inthe darkness seated himself on the edge of alow cot, awaiting the arrival of his pursuerswith beating heart.Through the open window soon came the

souuds of human feet aud voices.lie listened anxiously."You live here, madam ?"

In clear, quiet tones, so like, yet so unlike,a voice which had once been familiar to him,came the reply:"1 do, sir."" Have you seen a man pass by here—

a

convict?"

"I have seen no one pass the house tblfevening."The men hurried away, and the sound of

their onward movements was wafted to himon the soft evening zephyr.For the present, at least, he was saved.He descended the stairs quietly and stood

at the closed door, which the wumii badunlocked as soon as the men had gone. It

was slightly ajar and he gazed through.There, with her eyes wildly distended, her

hands crossed upon her beating heart, stoodthe woman. Heaven! what was this? Inthepale, intellectual face, in the well-knownform, there was a living resemblance toEtuel Wayne. He pushed opeu ihe door andstood before her.Tbe woman's manner changed as she

looked.The agonized face relapsed into a coun-

tenance of white pallor, the eyes becameveiled beneath the long, dark lashes."Madam !" he said in broken tones,.." who-

you are I know not. You resemble one Ionce knew, once loved. This I know, youhave saved me. Can I be deceived? Areyou not Ethel Wayne?"The woman raised her eyes steadily to his

face. It was evident that she was schooledto conceal her emotions, and she said, sim-ply:" I am Mrs. Dane, a widow."" It is not Ethel," murmured Cecil. " Th«

hair is different, the face is older. Forgiveme, madam," he said. "Aman just out of aden worse than the cage of a wild animalcannot be himself all at once. You havesaved me to-night, and all I can do now isto thank you, but you will not be forgottenfor your kindness."He started impulsively forward and caught

her hand in bis own as he spoke and presseda fervent, tearful kiss of gratitude upou it.

She shuddered as she withdrew her hand,turned a shade paler, but otherwise main-tained her composure.She offered him something to eat, but he

refused it with courteous thanks. He mustbe away, he said; and then as he disappear-

'

ed through tbe window she sunk pale andmotionless upon a sofa.He pressed onward, encouraged by his re-

cent adventure.A train thundered by a few rods befow-

him, and the thought of boarding somefreight-car and placing more distance be-tween himself and the prison authoritiesfilled bis mind.There, half a mile distant, was the depot.A lonely road, lined with lime-kilns and

old pits, led from the place.He directed his footsteps thitber.The hour had become late, the lights in

tbe village were dying out one by one, andall was quiet around him.Rapidly he crept along toward the rail-

road track.Suddenly he stumbled ; the earth seemed

to open beneath his feet; he struggled tocatch at the edge of a pit into which he hadfallen; he seemed to fall through immensespace, and then he became partially uncon-scious.What varied, fancies floated through the

dreamer's mind as be lay there at the bottomof tbe pit stunned and bruised, insensible to-all action or thought save the rushing ideaswhich thronged his brain, ever active andfertile

!

Faced wreathed in flowers, the wealth andrefinement of palatial residences when hewas a kinji among men, and the same linea-ments of feature, inexpressibly sad and woe-begone, casting upon him a reproachfulglance ora pitying smile.The face of his dead fellow-prisoner, the

face of Ethel Wayne, the features of thewoman of the villa, the countenance of thewoman at the cottage, and aro.id it all, in-tangible, perplexing, a return to life andconsciousness.Where was he? What had happened?

Had he been only dreaming that dream ofliberty so constantly in the restless sleepingof the captive ? No ; there was the pit, themoon and stars above, the trailing vines _adown its sides.He started as, reaching out his hand, it

came in contact with some soft, cold object,and every fiber in his frame thrilled withthat sudden and peculiar tingle which thepresence of blood can cause.His hand was wet with blood.He realized that fact at once, and as his

eyes grew more accustomed to tbe darknessof the place he shuddered as he saw lyingface downward, at the bottom of the pit, adead body.

'

That it had not been there long the freshblood indicated, and as a nww idea cam*

THE SATURDAY LIBRARY. 9

'into the eaoaped convict's mind, he turnedover the form and laid his hand upon theheart of the<oorpse.Corpse it surely 'was, for no responding

throb told of the presence of any lingeringvitality. He was astonished to see a face sovery like his own.Who the man was he did not know, but he

was dead, and that his face was badly bruis-ed at onoe oonvinoed the convict that he hadbeen thrown into the pit or had accidentallyfallen into it.

Hastily his resolve was taken. He deter-mined to don the clothes of the man, toplace his own in their steaa, and to escapeunder the identity of the dead stranger.To have the body of the latter found and

buried as his own would forever destroy hisrisk of beipg sought for and discovered.Life had no charms for him under his own

name ; no ties called him baok to the oldlife; sundered and severed, they caused himto shrink from again communicating or as-sociatiu g with his old companions.A little satchel, evidently dropped by the

stranger, lay in the pit. Hastily he undress-ed himself and the form of the stranger.He brushed the dust and' blood from the

olothes, and shuddered as he noticed onespot where some loose rock or other meanshad caused a hole. It was wet with blood.Then he dressed the corpse in his prison gar-ments. He took up the satchel, and withsome little difficulty gained the road abovethe pit.He went on in the direction of New Tork,

thoughtful, careless of meetiug any one.His head was bowed, his face sad and med-

itative. He had buried Cecil Vivian. Theconviot was dead. There need be no fearson that score.What had life before him ? If he had

biried a man whose crime had been unin-tended sin, might he not be taking up theexistence of one whose years had been spentin evil and crime, and upon whose future amisspent past might levy still further com-mittal of error, perhaps crime? Still, he hadassumed a part he must go on with, andwhen at length he reached the lonely depotand stood awaiting the train to New Torkunder the lamplight, he started as he readhis new name, neatly written on a packageof letters he had found in the inner pocketof his coat.They were addressed to

—

"Arnold Dacre," London,

"England."

CHAPTER IX.

A TBTT M F C ABC.During the time so uneventful and monot-

onous to theyoung prisoner, wasting away,body and mind, in the lonely prison, howfared it with his cousin, Gould Dayton ?

Vice sometimes awards a recompense forthe committal of a crime, but exacts a ter-

rible payment in the end for all.

Lured into a sense of false security by his

confidence in his own power to continue his

deception upon the public, and to keep at

bay all who might try to unravel his plot

and exhibit the true inwardness of his vile

nature, the secretary at onoe set to work to

strengthen himself, financially and socially,

in his new position, and now that the field

was deserted by his rival, he would gain the

hand of Ethel Wayne by fair means or false.

The company was a wreck, its stock-

holders said, and Gould Dayton did notgainsay them.

.. ,. ,

One week after the news of the loss at sea

of the steamer containing the false consign-

ment of gold, a privately chartered vessel

brought a mysterious package to the harborof New York City.

It was the gold which Dacre and Jones

had substituted the iron ore for, and in less

than a week Gould Dayton had purchasedevery share of stock on the market at ten

Bents on the dollar..

Within six mouths after the conviction of

Cecil Vivian as a defaulter and forger, the

Goloonda Gold-Mining Company, organized

on a basis of individual ownership, had not

only regained its former position of financial

strength and reliability, but was paying div-

idends amounting to nearly one hundred per

cent, per annum.""he former secretary of the company be-

came a man of influence and wealth, and its

former president was soarcely remembered.Safe in his financial security, he never im-

agined that fate was slowly but surely work-

ing out for him his destiny, and that his

onoe, yet self-concealed, would be sure to

bring its full punishment.

The man of many plots and schemes wasbusily engaged in other projects, having fortheir end his own individual emolument andthe aggrandizement of the woman he loved,EtbelWayne.One December evening we find him, habit-

ed in comfortable dressing-gown and slip-pers, seated at his desk in his splendidlyfurnished library ; the warm fire in thegrateand the oreature comforts on a sideboardbidding defiance to the cold blasts of winterwithout.He was now at the high tide of his BuccesB,

and a satisfied gleam was visible in the sinis-ter eyes and evil faoe.He had reorganized the Goloonda on a

scale grander and more lucrative than everbefore; he had won the friendship and con-fidence of Ethel Wayne; he had placed herfather under many obligations to himself.Cecil Vivian was languishing in prison, andthe only witnessof the interview he had hadwith his oousin which caused his downfallwas a wanderer in Europe.There seemed no slip betwixt the cup and

the lip in his case ; he had wealth, and pos-sessed a sure prospect of winning the handof Ethel Wayne. What more could a mandesire ?

In spite of all this, he was at times strange-ly ill at ease,Often in the night he would, awaken and

feel that he was standing beside a bottom-less, bridgeless gulf, behind which Bpreadthe plain of his black and desolate past.Upon this particular evening he had drank

merrily to^his own good fortune, given theservants an evening out, and seated himself,with some papers, at his desk.He worked on in the silence of the place,

broken only by the ticking of the ormoluclock on the marble mantel-piece over thefire-place uninterrupted, for nearly an hour.Suddenly he started.The inside blinds of the library were open

at the top, and a low poroh, only a few feetfrom the ground, ran, with an iron railing,around the windows.Was it reality, or a dim fancy, conjured

up by some unexplainable mental phenom-ena—that face at the window—those burn-ing eyes, that expression

!

He sprung to his feet with a startled cry.Asecohdlook showed no face at the win-

dow, no form on the veranda; then he pooh-ed at his own thoughts, and was turning hisanxious, half-satisfied face from the window,when, on the outer sill, he saw a letter.

There was no mistaking it.

Upon the broad sill, held down by a stoneto keep it from blowing away, was a letter.

He opened the window and took it upwith a nervous trepidation, which sent everyvestige of color from his features ; then he'slammed the window down, closed theblinds tightly, locked- the catches, and drewthe shades.He threw himself into a chair, examined

the superscription of the wet letter scrawledupon the envelope directed to himself, andopening it, read

:

'' Mister Dayton :

" Yer knows who I be, an' I know yer five

thousand dollars worth. I know yer had ahand in that stock business—penitentiaryfive years. I tracked yer the night yer burn-ed the letters in the letter-box—penitentiaryten years. That offsets yer prisoner Cecil

Vivian who I dont know and never sawbut intend ter. Now then me covey aboutthat Colonel Andre buznis—perjury tenyears. Do yer understand me? Im on yertrack. Miss Ethel Wayne is the girl yerarter. He give you and Daore away to herso help me heaven and thats the card I

trump yer best play with."A Venoer."

It was coarse, it was badly Bpelled andworse written, this illiterate scrawl of aman whose social and financial status wereso far below the secretary that he held himand his class in contempt, yet he trembledand paled at the letter, and Bat in a fit of

abstraction, deep and irritating, for over anhour.Finally he rose with a curious smile on

his dark faoe. He took up the poker fromthe fire-place' and went to the window, roll-

ing up the shades and coolly proceeding to

force off the catches on the blinds by pryingthe shutters toward him.This accomplished he broke the lower

window with one stroke of the iron and re-

turned to his desk, scattering the papers in

disorder, and then hastening from theapartment.

It was half an hour later when he return-

ed, and when he did so he was accompanied

by a little, sharp-looking man, whose pro-fessional air and general watchful expres-sion, from the closely buttoned coat to theshort-cut side beard, indicated the detect-ive.

" The robbery was committed this even-ing," Dayton was saying. " I had left thelibrary and gone tc see a friend a few doorsdistant. When I rdBurned I found a mantrying to pry open a drawer in the secre-tary."" Could you describe him ?" inquired the

detective." Perfectly ;" and the secretary proceed-

ed to describe the man known as TomJones. ,

"I've settled him this time," mutteredDayton, as he sought rest that night." Within a few days he'll be in a close pnsoaand incapable of doing me further harm;and now to more assiduously lay siege tothe heart of the fair Ethel."Politic and cool-headed, he sought every

advantage be could to impress the younggirl in his favor, and one day he approachedMr. Wayne on the subject."I love your daughter, Mr. Wayne," he

said, humbly, "and 1 have loved her since Ifirst knew her. Once she rejected my love,and I have never approached her upon theBubject since. I would not for a momentpresent my claims to cause her grief or dis-tress her ; but I love her, Mr. Wayne, and ifyou consent "

"Consent, my dear Dayton? It is the dear-est wish of my heart. There is no man whoI could so desire for an alliance with mydaughter as yourself. Our relative positionstoward one another tend to render yourmarriage with Ethel a consummation mostdevoutly to be wished for. I give you myentireconseutand pledge you my endeavorsin your behalf,"Dayton thanked the banker. He had an-

ticipated no opposition, but he had notcounted on so active an ally at so early astage of the proceedings.He was not long in seeking out Ethel." In offering you my love aud asking you

to become my wife," he said, respectfully,candidly, "in proposing for your hand, I amfree to confess that I do not expect you toregard me with the affection that I have al-ways entertained for you. I know you lovedmy unfortunate cousin, and I am also awareof the fact that his memory is not yet oblit-erated from your mind. I ask you to becomemy wife and oheer my lonely home withyour presence, hoping, in time, by my devo-tion to you, to win some cherishing regardfrom you in return."She was pale and silent.

It was a strange wooing; cunning, influ-ence and determination on the one side,indifference and a broken heart on theother.Tn her Cecil Vivian was as dead as if bur-

ied fathoms under the earth. She had noone left upon earth to love but her adoptedfather, and his entreaties and requests pre-vailed.So they were engaged.The wedding-time had been appointed,

and the day, so auspicious to Gould Dayton,dawned gloriously.There was a large gathering of people at

the Wayne mansion and the wedding ser-vices were gone through with eclat.

They proposed making a visit to a relative-

of Mr. Wayne's, in the Southern states, and.the happy bridegroom was seated in thelibrary conversing with Mr. Wayne afterthe ceremony and Ethel had gone to herroom.In the hurry and bustle of the occasion

Gould Dayton had scarcely time to speak aword to his newly made bride, nor had henoticed that a note had been sent to Mrs.Dayton and that a somewhat roughly at-tired man bad been shown by her maid toher boudoir; but he was startled from hisapathy as, looking up from his seat, he sawthe library door open and a servant usher inthe detective he had hired to apprehendTom Jones, whom he had aocused of rob-bery.

" One word, Mr. Dayton," said the detect-ive in a flushed, excited manner.The secretary took him to a window, fol-

lowed by the wondering glances of Mr.Wayne."I've tracked him," said the man hur-

riedly." Well, was it necessary to follow me here

on my wedding-day to tell me this?" de-manded Dayton, somewhat irritated at be-ing reminded of his disagreeable enemy atthis moment."Yes," tersely replied the detective."Why so?"

10 THE SATURDAY LIBRARY.

*' Because he is in this house."" In this bouse?" ejaculated the seoretary

in surprise." Yes. This morning [I tracked him, fol-

lowed bim "

••Well?'"To this house.""Where?"" In my lady's room, taken there halt an

hour siuue by a servant."A cry of startled horror and rage broke

from the lips of the bridegroom,'Why did you not tell me this before?"

he demanded, growing white and pallid." Beeause the servauts insisted on it that

you were engaged."* t that moiueut a second man, a stranger,

oi'-ued the doorund beckoned to tbedeteot-ive.Gould Dayton followed him out.There, coining down the carpeted stairs,

wuh a look of assurance aud malignant tri-

umph on his face, was Tom Joues.The officer laid his baud ou the man's

arm.'• You are my piisoner," he said simply." 1 am, eh?" laughed the man with a look

of intense disagreeableuess at Gould Dayton,who, silent aud pale, watched the appre-hension o£ the ex-miner. "What for?"

" For robbery. Come, no uoise in a gen-tleman's house.""Gentleman, eh?" sneered the miner as

he li .vnl his eyes on the pallid bridegroom."It's all right, my covey. " You've broughtup a case ag'in ine, but you've nabbed metoo late. Go to your wife, Mr. Gentleman,sneak and villain, aud see how she receivesye. X told ye I'd be even with ye, and 1 am.Trump oue, my covey. I've taken the trickand now you can take me."The detective led him on as he finished

speaking, leaving Dayton transfixed withtear, bullied rage aud hatred."What does this mean, Dayton?" inquired

Mr. Wayne, in perplexed amazement.Dayton led the way from the staring cir-

cle of servants into the library, aud suukinto a seat with a forced laugh."This upstart has chosen a bad time to be

arrested, ' f he said, with a forced composurein his manner, not a little anxious over theserious manner of his companion. " Onlya mau who committed a burglary, and hassought to boast of his cunning in eluding thevigilance of the officers by coming here oumy weddiug-day. Had we not better in-form Ethel that it is near train-time?" headded, nonchalantly consulting his watch." Yes," and Mr. Wayne rang for a servant,

not at all satisfied with his son-in-law's ex-planation, but willing to let it pass for thetime being." Inform Mrs. Dayton that we are waiting

for her," said Mr. Wayne to the servant whoanswered the summons of the bell.

The servant bowed and retired.

He returued in a few minutes with a won-dering face."Well?" queried Dayton, who mysteri-

ously divined some cause for conoern in thestartled manner of the servant.

" Her door is locked, sir, and she made noreply to my knock."

" She'll be down soon,. Gould," said Mr.Wayne.She did not come, however, and half an

hour passed before her father began to getuneasy at her coutiuued abseuce.Accompanied by his son-in-law, he ascend-

ed the stairs to his daughter's apartment.He knocked at the doCr, but no oue re-

plied.Startled out of his wonted composure, he

looked up at the white face of Dayton."What can it mean?" he asked iu a sur-

prised tone of voice."Some mystery, depend ou it. Force the

door," suggested Dayton.They did so. There was no occupant to

the room, and it was in w^ild confusion.The bridal veil was lying oarelessly on the

bed with the bridal dress, torn and disor-dered.Ou the dressing-case, the ink scarcely dry,

was a note.It bore no address, but the cowardly heart

of the secretary froze with fear and terroras he heard the words it contained :

"No words can express the loathing, thecontempt, the horror, I feel for the manwho could deceive a broken-hearted womanand wreck the life of an innocent man. Nolanguage cau tell the pity I feel for a fatherwho, a party to the same fraud, cpuld allowhis daughter to wed the man with whom hehas shared the ill-gotten wealth stolen fromCecil Vivian. I leave both forever. I go toprove the innocence of my poor, misguided

darling, and I shall succeed : and then, let

the blow strike where it will, I shall vindi-

cate hiin before the whole world."

CHAPTER X.THE VALET.

The third evening after the escape of Cecil

Vivian from the prison, a young man,dressed in the height of fashion, and sur-

rounded by all the accessories of comfortand luxury, sat at a table in an elegantapartment in one of the most fashionablehotels of New York.Attired iu faultless broadcloth and immac-

ulate linen, few would have recognized in

•Arnold Dacre, just returned from Europe,"the escaped prison convict, Cecil Vivian;yet it was he."Where I lay my life down," he had said

to himself, " I take this mau's up. From all

I cau ascertain from his baggge and letters,

his name is Arnold Dacre, a young manabout my own age, having but little moneyaud no relatives in this country. He seemsto have led an idle, desultory sort of life,

having been in California, Europe, and partsof Asia. He has erideutly gambled deeply,drank some, and been eugaged in severalrather disreputable affairs. If his life hasbeen bad, my future shall be one of moralityand honesty. It is my ouly protection, andwhen 1 have carried out poor Colonel An-dre's last requests, leave this country andpass a quiet lite iu some foreign land."

If the thoughts of the young man ever re-turned to Ethel Wayne with a desire to seeher, he subdued any such desire at once.Her words had wrought a gulf too wide to

be ever bridged. He eould think of her as alost love ; as a regained one, never.There were two letters ou the table before

him, and to these he direoted his attentionat once.The one, in a neat, feminine handwriting,

read:

" Gratiot, July, 18—."Deak Arnold:—Although, according to

your letter, 1 expected you ou the ith,you did, not come. Perhaps this was aswell, for our friend D. was here, and Ishould not care for you to have met him sosoon after your return from Europe. - Withhim, as you know, fate has dealt adversely,aud the loss of his young wife has madehim more irritable than ever. I told himof your return, and he left to meet you inhot anger, vowing he would make you re-turn without seeing me. Did he do so ? andis this the reason of my not having seenyou? You cannot imagine how I think ofyou, how anxious I am to see you. Whenmy galling servitude to that man hasceased, will the same doubt ever exist be-tween us, or will time prove my fidelity andcandor of purpose? Write to me soon, forI shall be very anxious to hear from you.

"Mabel."

The young man studied long and earnestlyover this letter, nor could he, even with theassistance of other letters whioh he found inthe portmanteau of the dead man, and whichhad been written to him by this same Mabelwhile he was in Europe, elucidate clearlythe hidden meaning of some portions of theletter of the young lady.The other letter was in a crabbed, busi-

ness-like hand, and was as follows

:

" Hotel, New York Cut."To AnNOLD Dacbe. Esq.:" Respected Sir :—My time of visit to my

friends having ceased, I beg leave to an-nounce my return to-morrow by the even-ing train. Your obedient servant,

" Jean Darschels."

It was this latter epistle whioh puzzledand worried Cecil. He could, for a time atleast, keep out of the way of Mabel, but whowas this Jean Darschels ?

From the tenor of the letter, evidently nota friend; judging from its conciseness andbusiness-like dictation, not a menial. Butone reference in all the letters of Miss Mabelmade to Arnold Dacre while in Londonafforded auy clew to the identity of JeanDarschels, and that a brief one."Who is Jean ?" she wrote, " and has he

taught you French ? If so, we can conversein that language and mystify our mutualfriend D."Again '

' D.," and " who is Jean ?" Ah, thatwas a question which harassed him consid-erably, and which he knew was soon to beanswered. Would that elucidation involvedetection ?

He perused the letters once more, put them

away, and then set to work at imitating thehand writing of Dacre from his journal in

his portmanteau.This journal was for the most part simply

a record of incidents of travel, with a few-individualities or references to friends.

Finally he completed a letter, a fair sam-ple of the other's handwriting.In falling into the pit, or while esoaping

from the prison, Cecil had torn thefinger of his right hand on a jagged rook,and he had bound it up iu a bandage. Hetherefore had an excuse for his rather irreg-ular chirography.The letter was as follows, a copy after the

fervent style of several blotted letters

found in Dacre's portfolio:

" Dearest Mabel :—I could not come asagreed; busiuess detained me. Write atonce. When shall I come? and appoint atime when D. is not there.

" Yours affectionately."

He dared not trust himself further, andsealed the letter and direoted it.

Again lie was in a quandary.He did not know her address, exoept

Gratiot. He ventured on that—"MissMabel Clare, Gratiot, New York."He laid it on the table, closed the portfolio,

and taking some paper, continued his effort

at copying the real Arnold Dacre's writing,but soon arose to his feet with aweary yawDjust as a knock sounded on the door.There, bowing and smiling, stood a neat,

dapper little mau, faultlessly attired. Hahad little, bright eyes, sharp and piercing, astraggling gray mustache, and was rathersmall in stature." Ah, pardonez moi, monsieur, I "

He started with a look which set his eyes,dilating, his mouth open aghast—startled,dumfojinded. .The impostor trembled forhis identity."You seem surprised," he said, coolly,

"What is it, Jean?"" Ah, mousieur, such a change!" resumed

the other, with wellrbred politeness, affect-ing far more emotion than he really felt.

"Has monsieur been unwell?"" Slightly. Why did you not come be-

fore?"-Jean Darschels stared. Cecil disooVereii

his error; this was the man. Now for hitrelation to him." So you have returaed ?" continued Cecil

in a careless tone of voice."Yes," said the other, with sprightly vi-

vaoity, removing his gloves aud hat andmoving briskly with them and his cane tothe dressing-room; "and now, monsieur,having seen my friends and had a vacation,lam ready once more for servioe. Any neyrcommands, monsieur ?"

"None."Jean shrugged his shoulders with a com-

ical expression."Then monsieur is perhaps short?""No, Jean, on the contrary, very long. 1

have made a raise."The Frenchman laughed gleefully." Monsieur is a chevalier of fortune, a child

of the world, but always a gentleman," saidJean, vivaciously." His valet, evidently," murmured Ceoil

to himself.He was right. Jean had been a confi-

dential servant to the dead Arnold Dacre." I am going out for a short time, Jean,"

said Ceoil. " In the meantime, look overmyclothes and arrange my portmanteau for ajourney.""For a journey?""Yes."" To Europe again?"" No ; on a tour of pleasure to the South."He left the room as he spoke. The ever?

vigilant valet called to him, his quick eyeobserving the letter on the table directed toMiss Clare." Pardonez moi," he said, taking up the

letter. " The letter to mam'selle is not di-rected as usual."" As usual—you mean " said Ceoil with

a puzzled air."To the villa; to Gervaise Villa, at Gra-

tiot."In those few past days of surprise none

had struck Cecil so forcibly as the coinci-dental fact revealed in the valet's lastwords.Could- Mabel Clare be the same womanwhom he had seen at the villa at Gratiot

while hiding from his pursuers behind thechimney ? Surely his new role was to be adifficult one and full of surprises." I omitted it accidentally," he said care-

lessly. "See that it is mailed," and he leftthe apartment.

THE SATURDAY LIBRARY. 11

He passed down the corridors of the hoteland out into the Btreot with a rare, exultantfeeling. Liberty unrestrained, unquestionedwas his.

He might' face down his best friend. Hecould prove himself to be Arnold Daore,and he passed on to the banking-house with-out evincing the least timidity.A sadness passed over his mind as he

reoognized many old friends passing him.Kone knew him.He presented the order given him by Colo-

nel Andre at the cashier's desk for paymeut.A look of surprise stole over that officer'sface as he perused the paper, and he liftedhis eyes inquiringly to the face of the youngman. He read nothing but well-bred com-posure there, however, and taking the pa-per went to the president of the bank." You will please step into the president's

room," he said as he returned.Cecil did as requested. There he found a

portly, consequential personage seated at adesk holding the paper in question betweenhis fingers."The certificate is all right," he said,

promptly. "How came you by it?"" Honestly," respectfully answered Cecil,

much annoyed by the president's manner." I presume so ; still, wo are curious about

the'history of the pieoe of paper. It ia manyyears since it was issued, and we had con-sidered the bolder of the dooument dead andthe paper lost. It is payable to bearer, andwe certainly shall not refuse its payment;but we have a natural curiosity in ascertain-ing its history."" The paper was presented to me to cash

and use the money for a special purpose,"replied Cecil. "For many years ColonelAndre has been the inmate of a prison, therictinrof a horrible plot against his life andliberty. To relieve his name from the odiumof shame and wrong now attached to it

through the committal of an alleged crime I

am sworn to dedicate this money."The money was paid and the young man

left the bank with ten thousand dollars in

his pocket-book.As he did bo he failed to notice a man

hasten into a dark hall-way and evademeeting him as he passed by. It was Jeanlarschels. his valet.That evening, in the comfortable apart-

ments at the hotel, Cecil Vivian read in theevening paper the following

:

"A Sad Case.—Two prisoners attemptedan escape from the prison on the 8th inst.

The one, Colonel Andre, who oommittedmurder several years since, and for whichthe assassin was serving a lite sentence,

was shot while descending a rope to theditch below his cell-window. The other,

Cecil Vivian, a young man of more than or-

dinary business and social attainments,<-9ined the river and succeeded in evadingihe officers until the next morning. Hisdead body was found in a pit near the pris-

on. It is thought that he was shot by theguard and managed to drag himself to the

pit. This young man was at one time the

president of the Golconda Gold-MiningCompany, of Alameda, California, and pos-

sessed a large fortune. He was serving afifteen-years' sentence on the combinedcharges of swindling and forgine the nameof the secretary of the company."

That evening Jean Darschels, the valet,

vfoei his master had retired to rest, took

out his Dote-book and made the following

entries, additional to many like preoeding

ones:

" July 8—Followed A. D. on train to Gra-

tiot; went toward villa over railroad at 8:15;

met a man at the point where railroad di-

verges; would recognize him positively as

D.; lost him in the darkness."July 9—Left for New York on A. m.

"July 10—Arrived in Boston ; saw friends

;

mailed letters announcing return.

"July 11—Returned.' There is some mys-terious change in monsieur; what is it?

Surely not done as a disguise. Looks as if

just recovering from a long and severe siege

of illness. He went to bank ; followed him

;

saw private mem. in cypher; examined his

valise and clothing; found a frock-coat cov-

ered with blood. What is the mysiery ?"

CHAPTER XI." nujUbeb ninety-theee."

"You, eh?""Yes, me; why not? Ain't I as fit for a

special detail as ye ? Hasn't my conduct bin

exemplary sence I come here ? Mighty lee-

tle show of a feller gittinj away with atwenty-pound ball and chain to his foot, noknowledge of swiminiu', a prison suit ofclothes on, ami a dozen guards within shoot-in' distance. So this is the grave-yard of theprison, is it? And them leetle boards showwhar they've planted 'em jist like gardenseeds. It these seed 'd grow they'd tell asweet story agin' the devils as runs this ereinstitution."The scene was the northern end of the

prison-yard. The time toward evening ofthe day succeeding the escape of the con-victs.That day the supposed body of Ceoil Vjv-

ian had been found, and Tom Jones arid afellow-prisoner had been detailed to burythe body." Quit your grumblin', 49," said the other

man." Hush, and let's go to work. Come, it's

no job diggiu' the hole, an' when yer donelet me know. I'm iu for a snooze."Jones dug the hole, turned to awaken his

companion, and then, some sudden impulsemoving him to the contrary, stood silentlylooking at the coffin.

"Ef ever there was a man that played amean trick on a pal, it was Arnold Daore,the man as lies in that ere box," mutteredthe man in a hoarse, meditative whisper."T'other one's bad enough, but this onesold me bad and desarted me, arter profess-in' friendship and sich like. Ef I'm a ruffianand a villain, I'll show t'other one yet whatan injured man can do when he's riled. I'll

hev a look at this one, anyway."He pried the loosely nailed cover from the

coffin as he spoke.He started as he gazed at the white, blood-

stained face which lay in the rude box be-fore him,*and the expression of his face, sofilled with a gleam of malignant hatred andsatisfied spite, changed to one of Btartledsurprise and perplexity.Heaven ! what a change had thoso few

short hours of liberty wrought in this man.The short hair, the contour of feature andform were the same, but a nameless, indefin-able difference existed and manifested it-

self despite the seal of death on that whiteface and those bloodless lips; and as theconvict gazed itseemed as if some changehad taken place in the dead man, too mys-terious for his low grade of intellectualityto comprehend, which had changed hisformer hatred to a haunting dread andP,&e examined the prison suit, the pockets,and the clothing of the dead man.He found nothing much to reward his

search, however; nothing but a picture. It

was part of a photograph, separated fromthe card-board, and contraband in the in-stitution, positively nothing being allowedto be retained by the prisoner upon enter-ing the walls of the prison.

Cecil Vivian had secreted it in its presentshape while undergoing examination ; haddropped it to the floor and regained it

adroitly when his clothing underwent ex-amination.The convict recognized the picture at once

;

it was Ethel Wayne's face, and he placed it

in his pocket and turned to replace thecover on the coffin.

He started as he lifted the cover and set

it down again.His quick eye caught sight of something

under the prison jacket of the dead man,which he had opened in rifling the pookets.It was an undershirt, and a thrill of curios-ity and perplexity went through his frameas he lit upon the discovery.No prison convict ever wore suoh clothes;

no such comforts were allowed at the pris-

on ; for the texture of the garment was fine

and it was white and clean.

In examining it he felt something underit like a thickness of cloth. He unbuttonedthe undershirt and tore from the breaBt of

the dead man a package, which was closely

enveloped in silk, and which he succeededin secreting about his person just as his

companion awoke." Come, there's no time for foolin'," the

man said; "cover him up."They did bo, and then plaoing the rude

board bearing the inscription

: No. 93

door, cautiously drew the mysterious packetfrom his person, where he had concealed it,

and examined its contents curiously.He could with difficulty read the contents

of the package. In fact, he carelesslyglanced over them without ascertaining theirimport.There was a long, olosely written manu-

script of about ten pages, a dozen small pa-pers and a photograph, a picture of a womanentirely different in features than Ethe!Wayne, yet radiantly beautiful, and undeiit was written, in a small, feminine hand,Mabel Clare.The convict reclosed the package and

secured it about his person.The more he thought of it the more he was

convinced of the fact that 1 here was somemystery in the death of No. 93.

The convict thought that Arnold Dacrecould not know Ethel Wayne, and he alsowas aware of the fact that when he had thatinterview with her which caused herflightfrom her father's house that he had told herof what he suspected of Daere and knew ofDayton's plots.The result of this reasoning, combined

with tho strange difference in general ap-pearance with the A. D. whom he had seenclay after day in the prison, led him to onedefinite conclusion : there had been mystery,deception, collusion on the part of the pris-on authorities, and the dead man was notArnold Dacre.

It this was so Dacre was still at large, andhe had been cheated of his revenge. Thenhis restless nature broke forth.Day after day he concocted scheme after

scheme for escape, only to discard and takeup new ones.At last, one night, about three weeks

after Cecil Vivian's escape, cell 49 was foundempty. The bird had flown and the cutlock showed the method of escape.One week later a man attired in the habit

of a well-to-do shopkeeper entered thehotel in New York where Cecil Vivian hadput up when he assumed the identity ofArnold Dacre.

It was Tom Jones in disguise upon thetrail of the man he had sworn to huut downand revenge himself upon—Tom Jones witttwo mysterious packets In his possessionand two photographs the originals of whichhe resolved to see.

over it and shouldering their spades, left theplace and retured to the prison.

That night, iu the solitude of his cell, theconviot, Tom Jones, by the light penetrat-

ing through the diamond hole in his cell-

CHAPTER XII.

AFTER TWO TEABS.

Cecil Vivian did not long delay in NewYork City after drawing the money fromthe bank.He had now two objects in life—to seek

out the daughter of Colonel Andre and toretain his present identity successfully.Deeming correctly that a week's usage to

the society of his valet, Jean Darschels,would habituate him to the character hehad assumed and tend to post him morefully in suoh a position, he made a flyingtrip South and returned to,his hotel in NewYork to find a letter awaiting him fromMiss Clare.It bore date of several days previous and

read

:

" Dear Arnold >—As you know I am stay-ing with my friends, the Postlewaites, andconclude my visit in a few weeks. The airhere is delightful, the scenery fine, the villain splendid condition. You will be heart-ily weloome, and no danger of meeting D.Come as soon as you can, and make up yourmind to stay for a week at least.

" Mabel."

So with his valet Cecil Vivian started forGratiot.He thought onoe of entirely abandoning

Miss Wayne, of sinking Arnold Dacre as hehad Cecil Vivian, of discharging his keen-witted servant and feigning a trip to Eu-rope.

If Mabel Clare and this woman whom hthad watched from his place of concealmentthat eventful night of the prison flight wereone, then he must tell her all; must wedher. Ah! but to reveal his identity to this

woman, to tell her who he was at the start,

would so prejudice her against him as tooause her to repel him at once.No ; if she loved Arnold Daore she might

still unconsciously love on, never suspeotingthe substitution of himself for that other,and then he could tell her all after mar-riage.Was she true, was she false, then whence

this dread of D., the mysterious initial

used in all her letters—what the secret oi

his influence over her?"

12 THE SATURDAY LIBRARY.

He bad accepted the task, he would carryIt to completion. By his sworn promise toth'i dead ('"lonel Andre he was pledged totr*e performance of a sacred duty.Should be fulter f NeJer! Life held but

» memory, nothing of such hope as he mightnave f ipertenced. He might learn to love'.his woman.The bitterness of life might pass away. He

might etill love and Oh, never, never !

The tortured soul was filled with a memoryOf its sorrow and woe.Then the events of that night of the escape

recurred forcibly to his mind. The flight,the pursuit, (be appeal to a woman so liketbe woman be had loved.Out of the warm gratitude which went

forth from bis heart to this living image ofEthel Wayne grew a feverish desire to seeher again, and why not ?

Ho was going to Gratiot, the place whereshe lived, Why, he reasoned, should he notsee her again 7 Meditating thus, he wasrudely awakened by the stopping of thetrain." Gratiot 1" called tbe conducter.He arose and left the car. It was early aft-

ernoon, and he had not advised Miss Clareof the honor of his intended visit.

A vehicle was engaged, and his valet at-tending to his baggage, they soon set out forthe villa.

A cold shudder swept through him as hiseye wandered over the landscape ; thedreary road, the farrgleaming villa nestlingat the foot of .the high cliffs, the far-offocean ; step by step he traced bis wonderfulescape of that night.Tbe prison stood outlined against the east-

ern sky, the very pit where he had fallenwas passed, then the lonely cottage, wherea woman's kindness and tact bad saved him,and when at last the carriage stopped at thesteps before the Gervaise villa he startedfrom his reverie as from a dream, and en-tered the wide hall through the open door.

It meant boldness and assumed oomposurenow.He walked steadily into the drawing-

room.A figure he had seen before started from

the piano-stool, a face dark and hand-some smiled with eager gladness upon him,"Arnold!"" Mabel !"

He clasped the band which the womanoffered him and a mist momentarily floatedbefore his eyes as be recognized in the womanbefore bim the same one whom he bad seenupon that fateful night, the night of his es-

cape from the prison. Mabel Clare andPortia Andre were one

!

There was a constraint in his manner as heallowed tbe bewitohing beauty to lead himto a sofa.From the first the woman took the initia-

tive, leading him on, drawing him out muchas an adroit coquette might, a bashful or ret-icent lover.

She talked gayly, variedly, how of bisjourney abroad , again of bis letters, and toldhim bow he bad changed, -bantering bimwith railery over bis reserved manner.He breathed more freely as the conversa-

tion fell into less familiar channels, and heconversed with more ease upon less danger-ous topics than himself.He was still treading on ground he but

Imperfectly understood. One misstep mightreveal all, or at least awaken the suspicionsof the keen-witted woman beside him.He talked of his wanderings, describing

Slaces he bad himself seen abroad, and anour went swiftly by ete she permitted him

to repair to his room to dress for a drive.He found Mr. and Mrs. Postlewaite easy-

going old people, who had never seen Dacrebefore, ana therefore he felt at ease in theirpresence.Could he oarry out the deception ?

From all the small-talk and generalitiesindulged in in his interview with Miss, Clare,not one allusion had been made which de-cided him on two points which must inevi-tably come up : his true relation toward herand her mysterious connection with D.He neither understood the one nor had he

heard her mention the name of the latter,

and as he sat by his chamber-window thatliight, dreamily watching the far-off prisonlights and meditating deeply, he felt astrange lack of confidence in his ability toi arry to a successful culmination the part hehad assumed.Then, too, be cogitated over theprobabili-

<ies of the effect of his meeting the womanwho had shielded him.Would she not recognize him, and would

not such recognition cause him confusion,

and perhaps eventually eiyose his decep-tion 1

Was It fate which seemed to keep withinthe little limit of Gratiot and its immediatevicinity all the accessories to this drama hewas enacting? And might not the tragio

ending lie a return to those gloomy prisonwalls which lay directly within rauge ofbis vision ?

Ah ! what was that ?

Through the open window, flung by someunseen hand, came a letter. To it was at-

tached a stone.He hurried to the window in time to see a

form stealthily retiring through the under-brush.His first impulse was to hasten after the

man, but the height of the window and his

ignorance of the place caused him to aban-don this intention.He drew the shades at the window and

took up this mysterious missive.So soon, alas!It was not enough that he must know the

friends of the dead Arnold Dacre; he mustalso know his euemies.He had assumed the man's life; he must

carry out the identity he had voluntarilytaken up for better or worse.The letter was an almost illegible scrawl,

and it was with difficulty that he made it

out.Finally he became more familiar with the

illy formed letters, and he read :

" Arnold Dacre;—J don't go fertohevmy revenge on a traytor without warnin'.Take warnin'. I've traced ye from tbe pris-on to New York, and then to Gratiot. I

don't know why you was bagged, and Idou'tcare, but I'll hev my revenge, an' I'll

track ye and that devil Dayton ye betrayedme to, to the grave. When ye played theEurope game in Ntw York I knew ye bedlied, but I sed nutbin'. Don't intend de-liverin' ye up to the jailers. Not much. I'vesuthiu' better nor that in store fer ye. Yerfine lady ain't the only one as would liketer know yer jail history. There's anotheras will foiler ye, an' I warn ye afore 1 strike.

"T.J."

What could it mean ?

If the mixed condition of affairs bad here-tofore puzzled him, this letter fairly per-plexed him and baffled bis most arduousendeavors to discern its significance.Here was a man undoubtedly an enemy of

Dacre, who had known him before and as aformer inmate of the prison.He retirod to rest, harassed, troubled,

wearied. His ignorance of some of the mostimportant points in the history of ArnoldDacre was beginning to become more per-plexing.He awoke the following morning irritated

and down-spirited. In vain Jean Darscbelsrallied him on his lady-love and endeavoredby his wit to elevate his drooping spirits.The day passed wearily enough, even in thecompany of the vivacious Miss Clare.They sat that evening in the drawing-

room at a game of whist—Miss Clare fullof life, her companion silent and moody.He excused himself early in the evening,

company arriving in the villa, and walkedout into the grounds about the place, seek-in his own reflections to regain the peaceof mind the anonymous letter had so dis-turbed.He stood under the lamp at the carriage-

gate and watched a solitary individual comeslowly down the road from the path leadingto the Gratiot depot.The full flare of the gate-lamps shone

brightly upon the faces of both men as CecilVivian turned to re-enter the bouse and theother took the same path.Then there was a low cry of fear and

amazement, whioh issued from the lips ofthe new-comer; for in under the gate-lampof Gervaise Villa there stood, face to faoe,Gould Dayton and Cecil Vivian, met oncemore after two years.

CHAPTER XIII.

IN MYSTERY.Of that interview between the miner, Tom

Jones, and Ethel Dayton Gould Daytonnever knew the full import. Suffice it tosay that the man had gained entrance to thepresence of Mrs. Dayton just after the wed-ding, and had told her of the full perfidy ofher husband.In her eyes the suspicion that her adopted

father had had a part in the subsequent af-fairs of the company, and consequently hadbeen a party to the entire plot, was believedby her.

He was equally guilty in her mind withher husband. He bad lent his influence to-ward concealing the inuoceuce of CecilVivian, of which he must surely have beenaware.As to Gould Dayton, the plain, straight-

forward story of the miner convinced herat once of the depth of bis villainy.

Quick to act, homfled at tbe disclosuresof her visitor, she wrote the note whichwas read by her husband and father withsuoh varied emotions, and then stole fromtbe bouse.She had taken with her quite a sum of

money, her own, and had goue at onee tothe village of Gratiot.She had rented a bouse in the outskirts of

Gratiot under the assumed name of EuniceDane and bad been there months when CeoilVivian had escaped.During that time slowly, very slowly, had

she worked toward her object.She had advertised for Tom Jones in a

variety of ways and had endeavored to findsome trace of the man whose name the ex-miner bad imparted to her as being ArnoldDacre.He bad affirmed that Dacre and Dayton

were at tbe bottom of the plot, and she hadendeavored to And some trace of this manalso.Tom Jones was in prison and Arnold Dacre

abroad—whioh fact she was not aware of

—

and she. had become well-nigh discouragedin the pursuit of the object she desired toobtain.

She had procured a wig of dark hair,her own being naturally of a light tinge.She darkened her eyebrows and used achemical to render her ordinarily clear,blonde complexion more brunette-like anddusky.Sbe dressed in plain black, went out but

seldom, and until the night she bad sostrangely come face to face with Cecil Viv-ian, had met with no surprises.To attempt to depict the varied emotions

consequent upon that meeting would befutile. At first sbe felt that, she must giveway and betray herself.Had the meeting been less abrupt ; had

any other circumstances surrounded herthan those which actually did at ihe tinmoftheir meeting, she could not have controlledherself.

When she secreted him, however, thatgave her a brief respite to control herself,and when the escaped prisoner and her for-mer lover again confronted her she hadsteadied herself to a resolute course of actionfrom which she did not deviate.When he recognized or thought he de-

tected some fancied resemblance to EthelWayne and went away satisfied that hewas in error, she felt that her disguise wasan effectual one under ordinary circum-stances.Once, twice she felt that she must speak

to bim, must reveal her true identity and'implore him to confess to her all the truth,of this horrible business; but should sbe doso and deter him from at once escaping itmight imperil his liberty.

If guilty, she wanted him pardoned; if in-nocent, she knew that she could not concealfrom his devoted heart the discernment ofthe truth tbat she still loved him. No; bet-ter time and trouble than haste and recapt-ure to the poor, pale, troubled wreck forwhom her heart bled.Then came the news of bis death, the rind-

ing of the body in the pit, and then a monthof sickness, of raving delirium'and wastingfever, and she came back to 'life feeble inbody, but in mind as vigorous as ever.Life was black, a dark, unhopeful pall,

with no ray of light. vHenceforth she had but one object In life

—revenge.She would yet prove the innocence of her

dead lover. She would yet bring to justicethe plotter against his good name and liber-ty if the exposition involved honor, husbandand friends.His last words, " I am an innocent man,"

rung in her ears like an inspiration of light,and under that new resolve her naturechanged from an innocent, suffering womanto a veritable Nemesis.Doubt, anxiety, confusion, all reigned in

her mind ; nor could she discern one singleclew which seemed to justify the theoriesshe formed.Of one thing she seemed positively cer-

tain—Cecil Vivian was dead. Be the mys-tery what it might, her eves would not de-ceive her. The man she had saved from theofficers of the law the night of his escapewas, could be, no other than Cecil Vivian.

THE SATURDAY LIBRARY. 13

He had escaped temporarily, only to die inthe pit beyond.Thus she sat thinking, brooding theories

;

fauuilul fabrios, built on solid faots, floatedawayuud came again, only' to be replacedby other facts built upon mythioal crea-tions; and then, in the whirl of her mind,as she thought of purchased liberty, of asubstituted body, of a score of varied ideas,she at last sunk into a troubled and restlesssleep.She awoke the next morning early, and

for the first time in a month took a walk inthe garden.As she neared the gate she started.There, coming down the road and going

toward the prison boat, was a m'an torn,bloody and covered with dirt. Evidentlyhe was a recaptured prisoner, and had beentaken after a struggle.He was heavily ironed and walked be-

tween a hie of guards.The woman's heart stood still as she rec-

ognized him. It was Tom Jones, the con-viot who had given her the warning on thenight of her marriage.He raised his eyes as he neared her, and

she, nearly fainting, leaned on the gate forsupport.He halted abruptly as he reached the road

near the gate."Move on !" commanded the lieutenant

of the guard gruffly. "You've made ustrouble enough already in catching you."" Hold on, my frieud, one moment," said

the man. " I've a word to say."They halted unwillingly." You've had a struggle in catching me,

haven't ye, now?"" Yes, and we'll put a bullet through you

if you bother us any more," returned thelieutenant."Then grant me a favor. I've an old

mother, my friend, and I want ter send amessage to her. Grant me this one favorand I'll go on peaceably."" Hurry up, then. What is it ?" queried the

lieutenant gruffly."Madam," he said, addressing Mrs. Day-

ton.She lifted her eyes to his face. He was di-

rectly opposite and near her now, but nevera token of former acquaintance showed it-

nelf in his words or manner."What is it. sir?"" Will you do me a favor ?"

"I? Certainly, sir," she replied in well-affected astonishment." Give me a pencil and paper."The servant bad come down to the gate,

alarmed at the throng gathered^there. Mrs.Dayton sent her after the necessary articles.

"Unloose one shackle," the convict said,

holding out his manacled bands to the lieu-

tenant.The guard unlocked it.

" No trick, now, mind you," he said, warn-ingly, keeping his pistol aimed at the con-vict's head as a perpetual threat."No, honor bright," said the man, as he

took the peueil aud slowly scrawled a fewlines on the piece of paper. Then he handedit to Mrs. Dayton with the words

:

" There, mum. River street, New York.Mrs. Catherine Wilson. You won't forgetto send it, muni ?"

Mrs. Dayton nodded her head." I will certainly fulfill your wishes."" Thank you, mum," replied the convict,

and holding out his- hand received themanacle and moved on with a significant

glance at Mrs Dayton.Ethel repaired to the house at once. She

knew the fetter and its writing to be a ruse.

Once in the house she opened it.

Alas ! moved by fear that the lieutenantmight read it the cunning convict had writ-

ten it in a mysterious cipher, little thinkingthat it would baffle the skill of its recipient,

for to her it was a perplexing and puzzlingenigma.

It read :

"The papers are 101,102, 108, 104, 105, 106,

107, 108, 109, 110, and D.'s letters.

"Gervaise Villas—Corn for they wdar—esto tuob xx psaeo from feht ecne. Dig."

That was all.

CHAPTER XIV.POBTIA ANDRE.

Had a cannon-ball unexpectedly rootedup the ground where he stood, Gould Day-ton could not have been more startled thanhe was at the sudden appearance of Cecil

Vivian. ,

To him it was a ghostly revelation or a

trick of his fancy, for Cecil Vivian was dead

and buried in the prison grave-yard at SingSing and Arnold Daore, the only man whoresembled him so remarkably, he had reasonto know, had been plaoed most effectuallyout of his way.

It was Cecil who first spoke, and who first

regained his composure.Ever on the alert for surprises, he had

onrefully guarded against being led intoany expression of action which would be-tray his real identity. He, tbe'refore.despitethe trepidation ana lack of confidence hefelt in himself to carry out his assumedcharacter without a blunder before GouldDayton, advanoed, pale but smiling, andconcealing his emotions as best he might,said coolly, as he presented his hand :

" Well, Dayton, we have met again."The hand of Gould Dayton fell meohanio-

ally into the extended palm of the man whoconfronted him, but it was cold as ice andtrembled violently.The fleshy touch, thefaot that either Ar-

nold Dacre or Cecil Arivian stood before himin propria persorue, was too evident to denyto his su perstitiously inclined mind, andhe partially shook off the terror whichhad chained him to the spot like a marblestatue.JELis hand fell nerveless from the grasp of

the man before him, and as he clutched atthe gate-post for support he gasped throughbloodlesslips the single word

:

"Vivian!"The false Arnold Dacre, the real Cecil

Vivian, caught the cue dexterously. Withthe same marked smile upon his face he saidjestingly:"Vivian! Have you seen a ghost, Day-

ton, or have you given leave to yoursenses?"The other was not reassured. His hand

went up to his eyes in a dazed, unsteadymanner.He shuddered with a cowering look in his.

pale face, as he murmured, apparentlyscarcely conscious of what he said

:

" I thought you were "

"Dead?" laughed Cecil. "I don't die soeasily, Dayton.""Then the shot "

"Was harmless, as you see," pursued theimpostor in the same easy tone of voice, hiscompanion little dreaming the intense anx-iety going on within his mind, for Cecil Viv-ian too fully realized that Gould Dayton,confused, startled, taken at a disadvantage,might be led on and " pumped," but thesame sharp-witted individual in his naturalsenses would never betray his own emo-tions or fail toread aright those of others.The change came; a faint flush stole into

the man's face; his eyes lost their haunted,startled expression; an awful picture ofmurder without cause, of crime without re-morse, passed from his mind and left himhis conscious, guarded, natural self." I have been dreaming," he said, with a

sigh of relief, but in a changed tone ofvoice. " Well, Dacre, you are in the field

again."" And mean to stay, mon ami, notwith-

standing your earnest endeavor to get rid ofme."The other scowled.Before the man who knew him to be a vil-

lain of the deepest dye, he did not play hisurbane, politic self. He openly avowed histrue character, and said harshly

:

" Arnold Dacre, once for all, I warn younever to cross my path again. I have noth-ing more to do with you or for you. Re-member the hold I have upon you ; remem-ber that one word from me can send toprison the defaulting treasurer of fhe SanJuan Stage Company. If my pistol failed

me, if your fall in the pit did not finish

you, it was no fault of mine."For a second Cecil Vivian did not reply.

He was meditating over the last words ofbis former secretary. Important revelationsthey contained for him, too, for they postedhim on two points essential to his knowledge—the fact that Dayton had murdered ArnoldDacre, and that he was the D. referred toin Miss Clare's letters as the person whoheld so powerful an influence over her."My visit here is simply one of friendship,

Gould," he said, in a conciliating tone ot

voice. " Miss Clare is a visitor here, and I

also. You surely can have no objection to

that."" You have changed most wonderfully in

your sentiments since your trip abroad.Why did you taunt me with your mutuallove that night at the pit ?" he queried, sur-prisedly and growlingly."Because you are most unreasonable in

shutting me out from oompanionship withthe woman I love. You forbid me to ap-

proach her. Do you love her? Do you in-tend to matce her your wife?"The question was ventured doubtingly as

to its propriety or effect, but it drew apoint-blank reply from the man."No matter whether I love her or not; she

oan never be yours. Does she not encourageyour love? and yet you call this true friend-ship.""Gould Dayton," said Cecil, in a deter-

mined tone of voice, bound to carry out thepart of lover to Miss Clare which he had as-sumed, " tell me once for all what the secretof your power over Mabel Clare is ; tell meif you do not intend to marry her, why yourefuse to allow me to see her, to enjoy hercorananv ?"

"No, i will not!" thundered the secretary."Take warning, once for all, and renounceall claims upon this woman. Finish yourvisit here and then leave her, or you will rueit."

The man passed on toward the house a»he finished speaking.

Cecil Vivian, with an assumed moodinessof manner, kept by his side. Welcame ornot, he determined to improve every op-portunity to understand all the points ofthe case in hand, aud he entered the draw-ing-room with his companion, watchingnarrowly the meeting between Uayton andMiss Clare, which was nothing more thanmight take place between friends, to all out-ward seeming, and then took a seat on theveranda by the open window.From his half-embowered seat he could

watch the interior of the room, and he noteddistinctly the moodiness and silence of hiscousin as he sat awaiting the departure ofthe evening's guests.At last Mabel approached him. Her smile

vanished as she met his glance, and a kindof fear seemed to come into her eyes. Fromhis seat at the window on the veranda Cecilcould overhear every word of their conver-sation.

"What has brought you "down here?" heheard the woman ask of her companion." Business. I must see you alone.""To-night?""At once."" Meet me in the library, then, after the

guests have retired," she said." No further flirtation with your gallant,

Dacre," sneered Dayton, ss she left his side.She cast a look of contempt upon him,

half fearful, half defiant, while Cecil, enter-ing the apartment, bade the occupantsgood-uight and retired to his own room,but not to rest.

He turned down his light, locked the door,and coolly proceeded to take off his coat andsupurfluous clothing. Then as he saw the car-riage drive up to the steps and depart withthe guests, he stole silently down the frontstairs, and uuperceived, in his stocking-feet,reached the library.He peered into the half-lighted apartment

through the partially open door. It wasvacant, and he passed into the room and un-hesitatingly concealed himself and awaiteddevelopments.He had not long to wait.There entered the room a few minutes

after he had come into it, his cousin, GouldDayton.He flung himself wearily into an arm-

chair and awaited impatiently the arrivalof Miss Clare. She was not slow in fol-lowing, and closing the door after her,seated herself on the sofa direotly oppositehim.

If the part of a spy he was acting was re-pugnant to Cecil Vivian, the circumstancesof the case fully justified him, in his ownmind.Sorrounded by plotters, he himself must

descend to their cunning and fight themwith their own weapons, or abandon thefield.

From the first he noticed that each of thetwo parties had assumed a belligerent atti-tude—Gould Dayton domineering and inso-lent, Miss Clare defiant and provoking."Well, Mabel," the man said, regarding

her from under his frowning brows with alook of malevolent import, " I'm here again,aud again you have Arnold Daore withyou."The woman was silent, playing careless-

ly and indifferently with the tassels of herfan."In faot," pursued the man, with rising

tones, " I forbid you to see him again afterthis visit is ended."

" Indeed!"" Yes, Mabel Clare, and I now understand

you fully, and I read his j.!iallow-patedfanoy for you as if it were written on his

14 THE SATUBDAT LIBBARY.

face. You will be eloping some day, andthen "

" Well, Mr. Dayton, and then what?" de-manded the woman, looking up into biseyes with a mocking manner. "Am I boessential to your well-being that you fearsuoh a termination to my flirtation with Mr.Daere ?'

'

" No, Mabel Clare," Bald the man in sig-nificant tones, " we understand each othertoo fully to jest. I neither love you nor amI jealous of Dacre. I know, without yourtelliug me, that all the interest you take inme is so far as my purse-strings go, aud thatyour forced servitude to ray whims, as youterm them, is galling and constrained. Giveme up if you like, marry Arnold Dacre if

you dare, but remember that the day youwed htm he goes to prison and you back tothe gutter and poverty."The woman's cheeks blanched at the

cruelly significant words of the man. Shesat silent and with downcast eyes, neitherregarding nor replying to his last insult.

•' I trust you," proceeded the mnu, utter-ly indifferent to the emotion lie was awak-ing in the breast of the woman before him,"]ust as I trusted Daore—as far as your in-terest holds you to me, no further. ShouldI abandon you, do you know what awaitsyou?"She shuddered slightly, but the downcast

eyes never looked up at her merciless perse-cutor." Poverty ! Tou could not earn your living

at any business, foryoU do not u understandany. Your beauty, the only dower you pos-sess, you are too prudish to barter for gold.To marry a penniless adventurer like Ar-nold Dacre means poverty linked to a manwho-would soon tire you."There was a pause broken by neither for

some time. Then the woman looked up,her eyes veiled, yet gleaming, her lips set,her face white."Are you through?" she asked. "Have

you finished your tirade, or are you in alecturing fit this evening 7"

The man bit his lip in ill-disguised annoy-ance at the capability this woman possessedto conceal her emotions.

" Yes. I have nothing more to say."" Then listen to me, Gould Dayton. You

have paid me a price for actingapart. Now,then, what if I say that I repudiate you,that I end the farce and go back to my ragsand misery? I am not foolish enough tothreaten you with the betrayal of your se-crets; that would do me no good, and onlyawaken your powerful hatred, and I fearyour influence ; but I can conclude our bar-gain at any time. You have no legal ormoral hold upon me, and our feelings forone another are far from being friendly.Now, what?"The man hesitated, fairly cornered.For some time he sat regarding the woman

before him with a look of malignant import

;

but she never quailed, never dropped herfaze under the gleam of his basilisk eyes,[e felt that he had lost ground, but he said,

after a long pause, in which his brain wasactive and devising some new argument toreduce her to subjection again

:

" What then? I will tell you, Miss MabelClare—then we are quits; but come, Mabel,it won't do to quarrel. For a time, at least,

ourinterestsare identical—until that plan is

carried out," and he laid his hand signifi-

cantly upon her arm, " let us have no quar-rel.""Gould Dayton," replied the woman,

shrinking from his touch, ns he lightly

Fressed her arm, " listen to me, once for all.

fear you and you dislike me. I love Ar-nold Dacre aud he returns that affection. I

am a strong-willed woman, stopping at noth-ing to carry out a plan, except murder. I

have no conscientious scruples to overcome.Choosing between the life of a low womanor the river, I adopted the latter as a meansof rest to all earthly sorrow. You savedme and offered me the life and reward ofan adventuress, a mere plotting, ueoessaryinstrument to carry out your projects. I

have met a man whom I love. I wishto marry him. Why this objection to mywish ?"" I will tell you, Mabel," replied the man

in a conciliatory tone of voice, for he sawthat his former overbearing manner was atvariance with the good-will of his emissary."If you were married to Arnold Dacre, howlong would his wife retain her knowledge ofmy secrets from him ? 1 will, however,make you a proposition. Agree to carry outmy scheme to its anticipated advantage;agree to dismiss your lover until then, andwhen I have paid you your share of this—this venture," he continued, flushing slight-

ly, " then you are at liberty to wed whomyou please."The woman's face oleared somewhat at thb

last declaration of the man who was her em-ployer."And you pledge me your word of honor

to seek to do no injury to Arnold Daore?"" I promise you.""Then proceed to the business in hand

you referred to."" I will. From information I have receiv-

ed, I believe the man upon whom the im-mense fortune in which we are so deeply in-

terested depends to be in New York. Infact, Hazri, the astrologer, is here. Withina few weeks the presentation of yourself as

the daughter of Colonel Andre must bemade and the fortune awarded.""And then?""And then, Mabel, you are free to go

where you will, do as you will."

There was a lack of candor in the man'seyes as he spoke the words—insincerity inhis soul. Never having been able to trifle

with this woman—this strange anomaly,with no conscience but a tenaoious regardfor her purity—he had grown jealous of au-otber man possessing her; he would riskmuch to incline her dishonorably to his evildesires.That jealousy had once led him to an as-

sault upon the object of his hatred and ofher preferred lover, Arnold Dacre.The man had escaped, and Gould Dayton

had solemnly promised this woman to seeKto injure him no further. His mind was,even now, in the face of all his pledges andasseverations of loyalty to those assertions,plotting against the future life aud libertyof Arnold Daore and the honor of the womanbefore him. Finally the woman spoke:" You have heard nothing of your wife

yeti Gould?"The man's face darkened."No," he answered, abruptly."Aud her father?""Is dead."The woman started."A sad history," she said slowly. "She

left you upon your wedding-morn for thelove of another, you say ?"

"Yes."" And you loved her ?"

"I did."" I pity you," said the woman in a sym-

pathetic tone of voice. " To love your cous-in as you did, to have him turn out as hedid, to lose your wife, was indeed enough tomake the world seem cold and loveless/'Gould Dayton frowned darkly. He had

never told this woman the truth concerninghis relations with Ceoil Vivian and EthelWayne. As in other things he had misledher in regard to these." It may be a week, perhaps a month,"

said Dayton, "before I present you to Hazri,the astrologer. You understand the entireaffair as I have given it to you ?"" Perfectly."" As Portia, you are entitled to the fort-

une. If you choose to retain your presentname it is well and good. The mark on yourarm indicates your right to the treasureand establishes beyond a doubt your realidentity."

" Then you will be here soon again?" sheasked of Dayton."Yes; perhaps within a week. Let us have

no quarrels over Dacre until this affair is

completed."They soon left the apartment, and when

all was still about the house Ceoil stole fromhis place of espionage to his apartment andsat meditating thoughtfully over what hadtranspired in the library between GouldDayton and Mabel Clare.His eavesdropping, unpleasant as it was

condemnatory, as his high-minded honorhad caused him to regard such a nefariousproceeding, had been prolific of several im-portant disclosures for his benefit.

It had developed the fact that Daytonsimply held Miss Clare through monetaryconsiderations. She was pure and lovedArnold Dacre. She might be the daughterof Colonel Andre, and her parentage andrights had probably been made manifest toher through Gould Dayton, who had re-quired a portion of the treasure for his partin the proceedings.He marvel6d wonderingly over the fact of

Dayton's knowledge of the Andre secretand resolved to checkmate him in his en-deavor to secure the lion's share of the richdower promised the daughter of ColonelAnJreby the mystic society of the Brethrenof the P"<od.And so the plo.t within the plothad reached

its culminating point, or soon must do so.He had taken a leap in the dark ; he had as-

sumed an identity into which be had fallennaturally and undetected.He was firm in his position now. Al-

though threatened by an anonymous ene-my, and openly menaced by Gould Dayton,yet over it all hung the shadow of a crime—the sin of that one weak moment in his life

when be bad signed the overissue of stockshaunted aud pursued him.Gould Dayton was married and his wife

had left him. What new mystery was here 1

Wearied and perplexed with myriads ofdoubts and surmises be sunk to rest.

asked, deter-

CHAPTER XV.EUNICE DANE.

Miss Clare's male visitors were few', andupon the score of eutire fidelity and anopenly avowed preference for his compan-ionship, Cecil had no reason to find fault.She was ever the same vivacious, candid

being, friendly and entertaining, yet neverunmaidenly or free with him.He entertained a sentiment of warm ad'

miration for her, and wondered at thestrange inconsistencies of her character.One day he spoke of love and marriage

;

began his tale iu. the serious, earnest toneof voice which were habitual with him ; butshe' stopped him iq her pretty, capriciousway, by putting her Augers in her ears andgiving utterance to a little scream of dis-may." Forbidden grounds, sir knight," sho

said. " You are on probation, remember,and I have pledged my word to my jailerthat we will be properly behaved childrenuntil my lord relieves the embargo."Cecil was silent, momentarily relieved. He

felt a sickening weight at heart when hemeditated what might be this woman's emo-tions when he told his whole story.It must come out sooner or later, if he

wedded her, aud thenHe grew sad and wretched when he

thought of it.

" My lord has a wife," said he, after apause. " What claim can he have uponyou ?"" Trespassing again, my knight. Have pa-

tience. Give me credit for my aversion toother society than your own."

" Patience till when ?" he amined to face the issue." Until "

She blushed prettily, and avoided hissearching gaze.

'• Must I propose and do the love-making,sir knight ?" she asked, with arch coyness."Seriously," replied Cecil, "youkpowmy

earnest wish—your band in marriage.""Your trip abroad has made you quite

Sedate and serious," laughed Mabel. ' '• In-stead of fervent protestations of love, orwild, jealous invectives against my lord, youcalmly ask my hand as if the heart were anafter-oonsideration. However, sir knight,we understand one another, and when GouldDayton has completed a scheme he is en-gaged in at present, and to aid him in whichmy endeavors are pledged, I will not- onlylisteji to all your proposals, but "" Accept them f" queried Ceoil, smilingly.

" Has Mr. Dayton heard from his wife re-cently ?"

He changed the conversation purposely,venturing the question upon what he hadheard the night before in the library.She little thought that an adroit eaves-

dropper had overheard her conversationwith Gould Dayton."No; it was a singular circumstance.

Wedded at morn, deserted before noon."" I was abroad when the event occurred,

you know," pursued Cecil. "Was the ladywho acted so mysteriously known to voupersonally?" ' u

"No; Miss Wayne did not come within the

limited circle of my acquaintance in NewYork society.""Miss Wayne!" ejaculated Cecil, with a

start of surprise."Why certainly," replied Miss Clare, re-

garding his astonishment with amazement._ThfJa» Mr- Dayton's wife's name—MissHjttiel Wayne.There was no need to ask Cecil Vivian ifhe knew her; the pale face, the startled

eyes, the dumfounded manner of the youneman, told the quick, searching eyes ofkabelClare that a terrible struggle of emotionswas going on in his mind."This is sudden," he murmured, hoarsely,

his head growing cold, his mind agonized,torn, racked with- contending thoughts" Are you sure of this ?"

«6"«.

nold?"m P08itive-

Did vou know her, Ar-

" Yes, I knew her ; she was the affianced ol

THE SATURDAY LIBRARY. 15

a man I knew—Mr. Dayton's cousin, CecilVivian."The reference to Vivian caused a diversion

in his favor, and he was calm and self-pos-sessed in a minute." Cecil Vivian your fiiend ?" she said, with

a peculiar emphasis on the last word, as sheregarded "him with a curious expression offace."Bather an acquaintance," said Cecil.

"Do you drive to-day, Mabel?"" Yes," and then the conversation turned

into different channels.The day passed. The night, with a radiant

moon swinging high in the starry vaults ofheaven, oame out and found Cecil Vivianpromenading within the grounds of Gervaise

These solitary walks quieted and composedhim and prepared him more effectually tooarry out the role he was euaoting—thestolen identity of dead Arnold Daore.He wandered beneath the trees leading to

the remote- grounds of the villa, when heoame abruptly upon a female form.It was enveloped in a shade-bonnet and a

long, close-fitting mantle, and the attitudewas one as if searching for something on theground, for the eyes were steadfastly bentto the ground.There was a break in the hedge at this

point and the stranger had evidently en-tered thence from the road.As the footsteps of the approaohing man

sounded upon the woman's hearing shestarted to an upright attitude and the moonfell full upon her face.A low cry of startled terror broke from

her lips, instantly suppressed as the man, hisfeatures veiled in the shadow of his broadsombrero, concealed the emotion which themeeting caused him.The woman was the same who had saved

him from recapture at' the hands of theprison authorities at the little cottage onthe outskirts of the village of Gratiot uponthe night of his escape from the prison.It was Ethel—Gould Dayton's disguised

Wife.In a moment the man was on his guard.

Whatever emotions this abrupt meetingcaused, whatever memories that pale, sadfaoe, so similar to the face of one long lost—toreyer lost to him—awoke, he felt he mustconceal in this woman's presence. She, morestartled, said simply

:

" Pardon, sir. I believe we have met be-fore.."The voicegrew more reserved. The woman

turned so that her face was lost in the shad-ow of the bonnet she wore, yet that singleglance of her face had revealed to Ceoil Viv-ian suffering and sickness since he had last

seen her."It is rather late to be abroad unattended.

Do you reside in the village?" he asked,politely."Yes."The mind - of the woman, turbulent, per-

plexed, in doubt, bade her remain where shewas.She wanted to know more of the person

who was either Cecil'Vivian "or his ghost toher excited mind."Then, if you are going home and have

tired of wandering here, allow me to escortyou," he said, respectfully. " Or would youcome up to the house? Gervaise Villa has afree welcome for all villagers, and Mrs. Pos-tlewaite must know you if you are living in

the town."In his earnestness to know more of her, to

place himself in a favorable lightbefore this

woman in whom he had taken so strange anInterest, be had come to her side and ten-

dered her his arm. She hesitated a mo-ment and then placed her hand timidlyupon it.

He noticed that it trembled violently.

"lam not acquainted at the villa," shesaid. " I am a stranger here.""I have startled you," he said. " Which

wav ?"

Ttiey had reached the broken hedge. Shepointed down the road leading in the direc-

tion he had taken that eventful night of his

escape from prison, and said with a nervouslittle laugh: '

" You are a Btranger to me, but a gentle-

man, and I gladly accept your escort. I hadwandered quite a' distance from home andmight have found some difficulty in retrac-

ing my steps but for your kindness. I havebeen convalescent from a long and severe

spell of sickness but a few days, and hadtaken an evening stroll. I find my strength

unequal to such a long walk."She leaned heavily on his arm as she

Jipoke.He little knew that it was the emotions

whioh bis sudden appearance had oausedwhich made her momentary weakness; helittle comprehended the wonderful andvaried thoughts running riot in her exoitedand perplexed brain." You thought you had seen me before ?"

he said, inquiringly. .

"Yes.it was a—a fancied resemblanoe,"she said, strangely."It could not have been me unless re-

cently. I have been abroad for nearly twoyears.""Do you reside at the villa?" she asked."No, 1 ara a visitor there. I am Arnold

Dacre—a friend "

He stopped suddenly. She had withdrawnher hand from his arm as though it burnedwith a red-hot iron.Then this was the man who had been one

of the party who had murdered her lostlove! In that moment of supreme hatredfor the persecutors of Her lost darling, inthe face of this man's steady composure andcalmness, she no more doubted his identityas that of the veritable Arnold Dacre thanshe doubted her own existence.The remarkable resemblance between the

two struok her forcibly, but the change twoyears had effectedin Cecil ViVian since shehad last seen him went far to establish theright in her mind of this man to the charac-ter he assumed.She saw her fault as the man stared at her

mute'.y and made a feint as if arranging hershawl about her more closely, then replaoedher hand upon his arm.The movement was so natural that her

companion was deoeived as to the realcause of her withdrawing her hand from hisarm." I am Mrs. Dane," she said when she had

regained her composure. " I am a widowand live in that little white cottage you seegleaming yonder in the moonlight."She pointed to a house some distance away

across the fields as she spoke.They crossed the meadow, making the way

shorter by a quarter of a mile.Their conversation turned on generalities

as they walked on , but when they reachedthe gate leading into the yard of the little

house she did not ask him to come in.

He noticed the lack of an extension of thiscourtesy and said, boldly :

" I shall hope to meet you again, Mrs.Dane. In this humdrum village an enter-taining acquaintance is not to be lightlylost.""I am so retired here," she began falter-

ingly." 1 shall call to see if the night dews have

put you Qn the sick-list again," he said, po-litely. "Good-night, Mrs. Dane."" Good-night," she said as he lifted his hat

and walked slowly away over the meadows.She stood by the gate watching his tall

form until it was lost in the misty distance.How like and yet how unlike was this

man to her lost ldve. How often had shewatohed him thus, but with what differentemotions.As a wife she had no right even to see him

were he that lost love, and instead of thathe was one of her dead lover's murderers.What active part he had taken in the plot

against his honor and life she did not know,and now with a full acquaintance with this

man, with the possibility of seouring his

confidence and furthering the ends of jus-

tice, should she hesitate? No; the politeness

of the gentleman, which evinced itself in

every action, might cover a villain's heart.

Patience, courage ! revenge and an honor-able justification for Cecil Vivian's memory.Let that thought sustain her, she mused,and lead her to encourage this man's ac-quaintance and friendship.But was not Arnold Dacre a friend of

Gould Dayton ? Might he not bring thatperson here by some fated accident? Mightnot the course of their friendship naturallylead to such an undesirable result ?

This recognition on the part of Gould Day-tor, should she meet him, she must avert bymore effectually disguising herself in minorpoints, and she had not invited Ceoil VivianInto the house that night on this acoount.She would endeavor to change her resem-blance to the Ethel Wayne of old as muoh as

Eossible, and then to lead this man, Arnoldacre, on.Villain that she believed, him to be, she

saw that he was impressible.

She would wring his secrets from him, andif possible wring his heart as hers had been,

and then for revenge on Gould Dayton, then

for the vindication of her lost lover I

Cecil Vivian went home silent, thought-ful, moody. What memories this womanhad awakened in his mind. Whatohords

had she caused to vibrate within his heart,such as had lain dull and inert for many amonth.If his life had lost all its sweetness when

he had lost Ethel Wayne, this strange wom-an had awakened at least a thrilling inter-est in her welfare, a longing desire to seemore of her.To have acknowledged that it was the be-

ginning of an interest which friendly atten-tion and companionship with its objectmight foster and uuture into a love less in-tense than the first passion he had everknown, but still fervent and deep, at thatmoment would have been regarded as animpossible folly by him, yet slowly and un-consciously the face of Mrs. Dane was fillinghis heart and mind, and his thoughts of herwere growing into thoughts such as onlyoome with the dawning of love.

CHAPTER XVI.THE KISS OP LOVE.

It is not our intention to follow step bystep the progress of Cecil Vivian toward thegrand culmination of the plot. Suffice it forthe present to say that without the remotestsuspicion of the real identity of Ethel Day-ton, despite his knowledge of the fact of herdesertion of her husband, he went to see herdaily. For one week succeeding the nightupon which he had met Mrs. Dane in thegrounds of Gervaise Villa, each morning,under the pretense of inquiring concerningher health, of bringing her books and flow-ers, under the guise of a score of little ex-cuses, he gained an hour or more of her com-pany.She was her own bright self in his pres-

ence, always endeavoring to entertain himto the fullest extent of her nature. Some-times he lost all consciousness of the presentin her presenoe, dreamin^,under the potent,magnetic influence of her changing ways,that he was back to the old sweet life whiohhad been blest with the smile of EthelWayne. So day by day she led him on, drewhim out, enchanted him with a spell, theweaving of which was wrought with venge-ful interest, the end of which could not failto bring misery, agony and remorse.For this man exercised over her a power

which made her fail and falter when shethought of the future. The polish of hisoutward nature she found was no shallowgretense, but innate good-breeding, theigh sentiments of his mind, expressed the

true nobility of a pure and sinless soul. Shecould not in his presence but acknowledgethe rare grace of his nature, the high moraltone of his mind. So like her dead lover washe that often she found herself wonderingif it were not Ceoil Vivian and not ArnoldDacre whom she was leading on to love heronly that she might draw from him thesecrets she so desired to know, and thenleave him in scorn to suffer as she had suf-fered, to feel all the Btings of unrequited loveand remorse which his perfidy and persecu-tion of Cecil Vivian deserved.That secret she never learned from his

lips. When she spoke of Cecil Vivian it wasbriefly and with an open avowal of only acasual acquaintance with him.

If the man knew much of the plot againstVivian, she found he guarded his knowledgeclosely, and so the time wore on pleasantlyto him when he was with her, but sorrow-fully, sadly, when he was alone or withMabel Clare.The latter neither questioned him as to his

absent hours nor noticed his gloomy indif-ference to her.The agreement that neither should speak

of love or marriage while her employmentby Gould Dayton existed was a fair andeffectual barrier behind which he tookrefuge in atonement for his apparent neg-lect of her.Gould Dayton for a week did not appear

at the villa, and on the score of his promiseto Colonel Andre, Cecil Vivian felt he coulddo nothing at present. Portia, his daughter—Mabel Clare—only knew by some strangecombination of circumstances of herparent-age ar.d of the expected treasure. To thiswoman he was tacitly engaged. He thoughtwith a pang of the young widow in the cot-tage, of the.loveless brido so willing tobecome his. He could do nothing. GouldDayton waB watching the case, and he hadbut to wait until the treasure was in Bight,antt then reveal as much or as little as heliked of her true history or of his claim uponher given him by her father. When thetime came he would see that Portia reoeivedher rights, and.that Gould Dayton did notobtain the lion's share in the scheme he hadin hand.

16 THE SATURDAY LIBRARY.

Alt unconscious was he of the fact thattberjj was a slleut watcher upou his track, aroan who with cunning pertinacity andSalient slyness studied his every action, Jeanlarsubels, bis valet. Never did a deteotivework more silently, more earnestly—neverdid a smiling face and polite exterior indi-cate the outward semblance of a shallowmind alive only to po'ilio endeavors in bispeculiar capacity, more perfeotly bide be-neath nil this a mind bent upon solving theenigmatical problem of like and unlike—ofthe similarity and dissimilarity existing be-tween the Arnold Daore of old and the Ar-nold Dacro of the present.So Monsieur Jean took it into his mind to

not only follow his master in the day-timeat a distance, but to trace his footsteps moreclosely at night. Skillful and adroit, bemanaged to evade suspicion and detection,and as Mrs. Dane played a conspicuous partln'thecase in hand, be fell to watching her.One evening Cecil had gone on a mission

for Miss Clare to the villageand Jean startedquietly toward the lit tie white cottage whereMrs. Dane resided. Whatever his objeot wasor the theories his mind contained, he wasaclose adherent to his cause, for hecarefullynoted everything and went to an enormousamount of trouble, apparently only to sat-isfy an idle curiosity. Upon this especialevening there was no moon or stars, and theindications in the fast-gathering clouds andheavy atmosphere were those of an ap-proaching storm. He crept around to theBide of the house where there was no light,peered in through the shutters, and theresaw Mrs. Dane silting at the table. She helda piece of paper before her, a rude, unlet-tered scrawl, with badly formed figures andenigmatical characters.Mrs. Dane was busily engaged at the mys-

terious letter left her byTom Jones, the con-vict, when he was arrested.For many days 3he had puzzled her brain

over the enigma, and to-night she hadformed a theory which she hoped wouldlead her to a revelation of the true import ofthe message.The rude letter written by Tom Jones, as

has been already stated, puzzled her not alittle.

She did not accredit the man with possess-ing a sufficiently high grade of intellect toinvent a definite system.She knew that he was desirous of putting

her on the track of the papers mentioned, yethesitated to divulge their hiding-placeopenly,and any whispered conversation withher, even if granted at the time by the lieu-

tenant of the guard, might be reported as asuspicious feature of his rearrest and in-volve her in trouble, or at least place herunder surveillance and suspicion.With all the man's roughness he was no

fool, and she felt grateful toward him forhis consideration in her behalf.He had written the message under the

eye of the lieutenant, although the soldier

paid but little attention to its contents, andshe had wondered what it meant.She had transposed it, reversed it, and at-

tempted to elucidate some system from its

st aggling disorder.Its construction, however, evidently in-

volved a laborious meobanism. It was ahit-or-miss enigma made as plain as the convictdared to write without openly stating hismission.She could not visit him at the prison, he

knew, and this was the only opportunity toimpart the intelligence he could not conveyto her except under the veil of a cipher.

"The papers are 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106,

107, 108, 109, 110, and D.'s letters." Gervaise Villa—Corn fore they wdarr-

esta tuob xx psaeo from feht ecne. Dig."

So read the missive of the convict and ex-miner, Tom Jones.Now for its solution.

The numbers she knew must relate to

some papers numerically arranged.Rejeoting the former as something she

knew not of, but referring to the case, sheattempted the elucidation of the latter partof the perplexing message.As her eyes became more accustomed to

the writing before her, she saw that two dif-

ferent Ideas had prevailed in the mind of its

author. One was the use of four letters of aword proper, then four reversed; thus:

Corn (fore) er of the y (radw) ard w est a(toub) bout—here the system" merged into

irregularities, subtraction—fxx) 20 (psaeo)

Trora (feht) the f (ecne) ence. Dig. Theproblem stood revealed to her :

Gervaise Villa, corner of the yard, westabout twenty paces from the fence. Dig.

In her mind she went over the topographyof the place. The fence ran north and south

and west would be outside of the villa

grounds.She resolved to repair at onoe to the

grounds, and putting on a light hat and ashawl, she hurried from the house In thedirection of the villa, followed closely by the

unsuspected spy upon her actions, JeanDarsohels.She reached the corner of the low fenoe

which separated the grounds of GervaiseVilla from the adjoining place. The spotwas a barren, uncultivated piece of ground,with no fence surrounding it. Here andthere an occasional tree afforded slight shel-

ter and shade, and as she started in a direot

line twenty paces west from the corner of

the garden wall of Gervaise Villa, she foundthat the requisite number of steps mention-ed on the pieoe of paper handed her by theconvict led her to the foot of one of these

She examined tBe ground carefully, andthen started as a few rain-drops fell patter-ingly down, and the breeze went sighingmournfully through the trees of the villa,

like the moan of some restless and lost spirit

seeking rest and finding none.Then she knelt down and examined the

ground around the foot of the oak tree,

more with her hands than her vision, for thedim, imperfect light of the evening revealedonly the faint outlines of a pile of loose clayaround one side of the tree.

Ah I she trembled with expectation andeagerness as she saw that the ground herewas looser than on the other side of the tree.

With her white, delicate hands she tore upthe clods, and fluag handful after handfulof earth to one side.

Finally a low, exultant cry arose to herlips.

In the excitement of the moment, in theeager joy at having surely discovered thehi-ing-plaoe of the box of papers so im-portant to her cause, so fatal to t.heinterestsof the persecutors of Cecil Vivian, she gaveutterance to words of significant import."At last!" she murmured. "The convict

did not deceive me. Arnold Dacre or CecilVivian, whiohever died that eventful night,these papers will tell."

She wrenched laboriously at the little

ring in the top of a small oblong tin box, tooimpatient to wait to remove the remainingearth around it.

The rain had begun to descend, the windwas singing in a dreary monotone throughthe leaves of the trees, and a tempest wassurely indicated1

; but she saw nothing of all

this, saw nothing of the form whioh, stand-ing half hidden by the oak, had watchedher every movement with intense curiosityand interest.She arose to her feet, and as a momentary

feeling of blindness passed over her fromher weakness and recent efforts, she uttereda cry such as the panther gives expressionto when robbed of her young, for the boxwas snatched from her hand, and she be-came dimly conscious of a human formdarting away in the darkness.Lost I lost! After all the struggle the

main link in the chain of evidence was miss-ing.Sick at heart, utterly prostrated by the ef-

fects of the daring theft, she turned andstaggered away from the spot, blindly, con-fusedly, not knowing whither she went.She reached the road, wet and with bedrag-gled garments.A weak, fluttering sensation came over

her, and then, under the mental and physic-al strain which had been too severe uponher system, she fell prone to the earth.Jean Darschels, the valet, the spy, the

purloiner of the precious box of papers,sped on in the darkness and through thenight.To him, as to others, these papers might

mean the unraveling of a perplexing mys-stery.Hastening on thus, he was not aware of

the pursuer upon his track ; he did not knowthat the game he was playing was a three-handed one, in whioh the reserve card wasthe winning one.He afterward had a dim idea of a sudden

blow on the neck, a deadly falling into in-sensibility, and when he arose, wet andsore, and dragged himself to the villa, thebox was missing.This stormy night was a fateful one to all

concerned in the tragedy which involved somuch to the characters of our story. It wasfateful to Gould Dayton, for at that hour hewas hastening down to Gratiot with im-portant intelligence for Mabel Clare; it wasfateful to Tom Jones, for it eventually re.

leased him from a penal servitude that hadbeen doubled on account of his formerescape; it was fateful to Ethel Dayton andto Cecil Vivian, for as the woman lay in-

sensible there by the roadside, a horse andbuggy, driven rapidly toward the villa-

stopped abruptly ns it reached the spotwhere she lay, the steed terrified and balkyat so unusual an impedimentin h» progress,

and as Cecil Vivian, the occupant of thevehicle, leaped to the ground and raised theprostrate form, his flrst action was to uttera cry of surprise, and the next to imprintupon those cold lips a fervent kiss of love.

CHAPTER.XVII.PACE TO FACE.

Yes, it was a kiss of love—such a greeting

as had not passed the lips of Cecil Vivian for

two long years—an expression of ardent af-

fection such as he had never expected to

pass his lips again, such as only this woman,besides that other love, Ethel Wayne, couldwin from him. The hour, the circumstan-ces, the place, all were treaoheroUs to thebarriers of reserve and duty he had thoughthimself safely installed behind. He lifted

her jn his strong arms andWnto the buggy,laid her head tenderly on his shoulder, andturning the horse, direoted his way slowlytoward the cottage where Mrs. Dane lived.

What cared he for the rain or the -wind orthe storm ? What thought he of the womanawaiting his return at Gervaise Villa, hispledged wife ?

In that moment of supreme bliss, love tri-

umphed over all minor considerations, andhe chafed the pallid brow and kissed thecold lips, applying endeared names to theinsensible form lying inert in his arms.He never slopped to think of the strange

visit of this woman to Gervaise Villa—henever thought of the equivocal position thisoutburst of passion was placing him in.

He only felt the love of his heart centeredon this woman surging up like a turbulentooean which could not be stilled, and think-ing thus and acting thus, the opening eyesof the woman coming back to life with a flut-tering sigh caught the ardent look of thoseburning eyes, heard the murmured words

:

" My darling, my own," started at the pas-sionate whispering of his love, and almost;shrunk from his arms with a low ory of ter-ror, alarm, and dismay."The box! the papers! Where am I?"

she uttered, confused, dazed, uncertain if

this was not some dream."Be calm," spoke Vivian, in rapturous

accents. "Providence sent me to your aid.You were lying in the road as I was return-ing from the Tillage." ,

She shrunk back from bis caressing touchwith an emotion which sent the blood rush-ing through every artery with redoubledforce. How she loved this man!—for whathe was, for the mysterious affinity he seemedto possess toward Cecil Vivian

!

Like a tide1

then surged up her vow, herduty, her position. Another man's wife.Pledged to the fulfillment of a sacred trust,should she falter at this opportune moment?Never 1 If it tore her heart into a thousandfragments, she must pursue steadily thecourse her own conscience had instituted,her own resolves had determined to oarry toa successful fruition."Unhand me, sir!" she said, sternly, cold-

ly, in a tone of voice which sent a despairingchill

,to the heart of the man beside her.

" This is unseemly conduct for a gentleman/Mr. Dacre."He quailed before the indignant eyes flash-

ing scorn, surprise and anger upon him."Pardon," he said, humbly, brokenly. "I

had dared to hope——

"

She uttered a tow, light, scornful laugh."Hope?" she echoed, in bitter tones .of

voice. " I led you to hope. I encouragedyou, and for what purpose—can you tell methat?"He was silent, and as they reached the

gate-way, dismounted and lifted her fromthe carriage, and then, with bowed heads,both walked up the gravel path leading tothe house and up on the veranda.The very demon of unrest pervaded the

woman that night.As the tempest tore by, her own turbulent

soul gathered strength from its fiercenessand aided and abetted her desire to torturethis man, to be avengedfor the Bake of CecilVivian. Strange inconsistency ! Love tor-turing its object—revenge and justness bat-tling with affection."Listen to me, Arnold Dacre," she went

on, "for the time has come when I mustspeak and I shall speak the truth. Day byday, week by week, I have led you on by all

THE SATURDAY LIBRARY. 17

the arts a woman knows, playing on the ten-derest ohorda of your heart, deluding you,deceiving you—I have led you to love me.Do you know why ? To spurn you, to soornyour love as I would that of the lowest oon-viot in yonder prison. I hate you, ArnoldDaore ; I loath you, I despise you!"He stood regarding her with a look in

which agony, surprise and wondermenttook away his speech for the time being.The outburst was so sudden, so unexpected,that he was petrified, astounded."Do you know why! have done this?"'

she eontinued, her voice rising, her featuresflashing fire, and her whole being enwraptin the cause she was vindicating. " It is re-venge. As you and your vile confederatesplotted against and murdered the only manlever loved—Cecil Vivian—so have I swornto be revenged upon you. If my woman'swit has failed to force you to a oonfession of

your part in that nefarious plot. I have atleast wounded you at your tenderest part.I, Ethel Wayne, whose heart you and yourvile fellow-conspirators have broken, swearto follow you out, to track you to yourdoom, to yindioate the honor of Ceoil "Viv-

ian."" Ethel I" wonderment, surprise, doubt in

the word.The man sprung forward. Half way to

the woman's side he was thrust rudely away,and the light shining from the lamp in thehall through the open door-way revealed astartling tableau—Cecil Vivian reaching bis

hinds toward Ethel Wayne and Gould Day-ton confronting his runaway wife.

CHAPTER XVIII.DEFIED.

It was indeed Gould Dayton, her husband,who, at that critical moment when Ceoil

Vivian might have revealed himself in his

proper person and have solved all this sad,

wretched misery, appeared between the twolovers.He had arrived at Gratiot on the evening

train, had started on foot for the villa, andthe rain coming on, had stepped within theveranda of the little white cottage, little

dreaming of the result of his action.Never at a disadvantage when he felt se-

cure of his power, he did not hesitate to as-

sume his prerogative at this time.As he thrust Cecil Vivian aside he mut-

tered :

"You are not particular as to your loves,

Dacre. 1 warn you that any further inter-

ference in this quarter will meet with some-what more severe measures than your es-

capade with Miss Clare. Go ! I will see thatmy wife needs no assistance from you !"

Vivian turned from the verjnda withouta word. The woman had spurned him ; theman held him in his power.Yet a fierce triumph burned in his heart

as he thought how this woman loved him,how steadfast and true she was to him, de-spite time and sorrow and care; but ajealous pang seized his heart as he thoughtof her being left alone with the man she wascompelled to call her husband. There wasno way out of it; he must resign all hopesof her, but he would never cease to love hernever I

He drove back to Gervaise Villa wild witha score of varied coutendiug emotions and

.retired to his room and spent the night in

"weary, restless thought.Before her husband, in thepresenee of this

man to whom she was legally wedded, thestrong spirit of Ethel Wayne quailed.

She knew his nature, she knew his right,

she knew he would not hesitate to use his

Sower and compel her to his wishes, and as

e took her by the arm and led her into the

sitting-room she sunk pale and exhaustedinto a chair. .

Her servant—an old Scotch lady, Mrs.Thorne—looked inquiringly and suspiciously

at the man, not at first recognizing him." A wet night, Mr. Dacre. Ye should not

keep out a night like this, sir.""1 am not Mr. Daore," replied Dayton.

" I am this lady's husband, and I want youto get these wet clothes off her at once andmake her comfortable."The servant stared from the man to the

woman in mute surprise as she sat pale andutterly downfallen at the turn affairs hadtaken, and then going to her pointed to

the wet and bedraggled garments, saying

simply

:

" Ye're wet and cold, me leddy, after yer

recent sickness. It'll ill abide ye to remain

in this condition.",

The woman's words brought her back to

the realities of life.

She walked from the apartment erect,

with majestic mien, not deigning a singleglance at her husband.He, with a quiok glance around the apart-

ment, when she had gone, took in the con-tents of the room, and then walked over tothe mantel-piece, kicking the mud off hisboots upon the iron fender.A few minutes elapsed, when the door

opened and the servant entered the room."Ye'll be likely to excuse my leddy lor

this evening, sir," she said, with a courtesy."She's ill frae the exposure and fright loikean'll be happy to see yeagiuin the mornin'."

"I'll do nothing of the sort," replied theman, in an irascible tone of voice. " Justtell Mrs. Dayton if she don't oome to me I'll

go to her."" Yes, Bir, I'll do it," replied the woman,,

retreating in trepidation before the frown-ing gaze of the man. "It ain't fer me tojedge, but folks do be most uncommon dis-agreeable nowadays.""The man paced the floor with an impatient

stride, awaiting some demonstration fromthe other room.So long, indeed, was the interval between

the last appearance of the servant and theindications of the reappearance of his wife,that Gould Dayton had his hand on theknob as the door opened and his wife con-fronted him.She was Btill pale and somewhat agitated,

but the few minutes she had been alone hadsufficed to restore her composure of mind,and she walked to a seat and turned her eyesfull upon him." Well, madam," said Dayton, in an angry

tone of voice, " we meet again, it seems.""Yes, Gould Dayton; evil wind that blew

you hither! We meet again, but not asfriends. Say what you have to say, ter-minate this interview as soon as possible,ana'leave my house.""Your house!" sneered the man, growing

fairly livid iu the effort to suppress his pas-sion. '• Since when has the law allowed awife to raaiutain a separate establishment,out of which she may bar her husband ather will and pleasure?"" The law, you may find, which gives you

a fancied power over me at present, alsogrants remission from the marital dutiesunder certain circumstanoes. Do not handleedged tools, Mr. Dayton," she said, with aninflection of the severest irony in her voice.He frowned still more darkly, and regard-

ed her sharply."Then you repudiate our marriage?""Utterly."" And refuse to accept me in the position

the law has placed me?""I do."The man laughed a harsh, grating, dis-

cordant laugh."Do you kuow me?" he asked with an

evil gleam in his eyes which made hershudder. "Do you know, my lady, thatyour father being dead I am your only nearrelative on earth ?"

" I knew he was dead.""Ah, then you kept yourself informed,

doubtless, of my proceedings."" Better than you think."There was an undertone of menace in her

words." Then you know that I am wealthy ; that

my business talent and expert financial

managemet have evolved a fortune out of

the Alameda mines.""Yes, Gould Dayton, I have heard you

are rich. But all your riches cannot temptme to remain in your power. Your wealthis built upon the ruin of others, your repu-tation on a false basis, your plans on shift-

ing sands. One day you will fall ; one daythe wreck and ruin into which you led yourcousin, Cecil Vivian, will rebound uponyourself. There is a Nemesis on your track.

There is one whom your wealth cannot buy,your influence bribe to silence."" And that person is

"

" Myself. Slowly but surely the evidence

against you and your co-conspirator, ArnoldDacre, has accumulated. Patiently I have

watched you; patiently I shall labor uutil

the end. When I accuse you of leading to

ruin the man I loved, whose memory I

still love, it will not be a proofless victory.

Beware I" .... ,„ ,. i. ,.

The man paled despite himself, but he

said, steadily

:

., . „ . T" Madam, as my wife, I shall act as I

choose toward you. I go to-night. To-mor-

row we will test the validity of my rights as

a husband."He walked straight from the apartment

as he spoke, through the darkness and rain,

but not to Gervaise Villa.

Back to the village he went and into the

depot. The telegraph office was open. He

took up two blanks, and a few minuteslater there flashed over the wires, one toNewtown, twenty miles distant, the otherto New York City

:

" Adam Westlake :—Place the cottageonsea-shore in order and expect visitor.

"G. D."

The other ran

:

" William Bowler :—Come at once. Gra-tiot Hotel. G. D."

He waited hour after hour. At last, to-ward midnight, the wires clicked and theolerk handed him a message. It read

:

'Gould Dayton:—O. K. A. W.'

He seated himself with a smile,of satisfac-tion on his lips, and smoked cigar aftercigar. Toward morning a second dispatchwas handed him, which contained the fol-lowing words

:

" Gould Dayton :—I start for Gratiot at7 A. m. W. B."

He folded the dispatch, placed it in hispocket-book, and walked toward GervaiseVilla.The rain was coming down in torrents, the

landscape was dreary and wan. As he pass-ed the cottage where Mrs. Dane lived, heglanced toward it with a peculiar smile onhis lips." Sleep.my lady ; but before anothernight

ooraes I'll have you where you won't troubleme for a time. My plans are too near frui-tion to have you mar them. When these arecarried out, then I'll attend to tamingyou."

CHAPTER XIX.THE ASTROLOGER.

All silent in Grog Lane, sin-haunted,erime-oursed thoroughfare of the great andpopulous city of New York,A singular place, this, to introduce our

readers, yet i4 is here, in the upper portionof a building used as a pawn shop, that ascene is beiug enacted which claims our at-tention and forms one of the links in thechain of incidents which go to connect andmake up our narrative.The door leading to the room above was

of heavy oak, doubly barred and locked, theupper windows shuttered and bolted, therooms plainly but neatly furnished. Hereat a table, upon the day succeeding thatupon which Gould Dayton had discoveredhis missiDg wife, was seated a man of pe-culiar face and bearing, whose white hairand long beard gave him a patriarchal ap-pearance.This individual was the astrologer. Seated

at a table, perusiug a large and time-wornbook filled with writing, it would havebeen difficult to have readily discerned hisnativity. He was dark-skinned and hadmany peculiarities of the Jew, combinedwith the characteristics of the natives ofSouth America in contour and form.His bright, restless eyes bespoke a certain

activity of thought, and his parchment-like face was volatile in its varied expres-sions.Suddenly there was a loud knock at the

door below, resounding through the lonelybouse.A young man appeared, clothed in oriental

attire, who greeted the astrologer witb. aprofound salam."The door," said the astrologer, briefly.

" Remember, admit no prying or inquisitivestrangers."The lad made a respectful obeisance and

withdrew.There was the sound of parleying at the

entrance below, heavy footsteps ascendedthe stair-way, and there entered a man at-tired in ragged garments, suoh as a com-mon laborer would have scorned to wear.The covering for his head was a small,

closely fitting skull-cap, his under suit ofclothes of that peculiar mixed cloth, grayand black striped, which his worn only byone set of men, and the long, light over-coat, which did not conceal the prison suit,

nor the feet almost bare, was tattered andin shreds.His beard was long and straggling, his hair

matted and unkempt, his glittering eyesand thin, wan face, indicative of sufferingand hunger.The astrologer looked askance at this pen-

itentiary-bird just escaped, for no one coulddoubt him to be such, and roused out of his

18 THE SATURDAY LIBRARY.

wonted composure and dignity, arose to hisfeet with an inquiring glance.The pule, wnn man was Colonel Andre,

the escaped prisoner from Sing Sing. Hisforehead was boi;nd with a dirty and blood-stained cloth, and his i-lotb.es were wet anduncleanly.He removed his hat as he stood in the

august presence of the astrologer, more asan apology for bis uucouth appearance thanfrom any awe or feur, and putting one handinto the breast of his uoat, drew forth a pieceof newspaper.At sight of the paper and the para-

graph pointed out by the thin, tremblinglinger of the convict, tbe old man started.

" I have come here in refeience to thatadvertisement," said the man, in a hoarse,weary tone of voice. " I have swam rivers,forded streams, climbed mountains, andrun tbe gantlet of the entire police force ofNew York City to answer it. If I cau throwsome light upon that advertisement, am Iweloome ? I will make my assertion to thateffect if it will gain me a meal before I gofurther, for 1 am famishing."The old astrologer's faoe changed to a

friendly look from tbe one immediately pre-ceded it of surprise and dubious hospitalitytoward the intruder.He motioned him to a seat, spoke a few

whispered words to his attendant, whoquiokly disappeared, and then, resuming hisaeat at the table, said, simply:" You have suffered.""Suffered! Have you ever been an in-

mate of a prison ? Have you ever escapedonly to receive a ball in the bead sufficientto blunt the senses, and yet prevent utterunconsciousness? Have you ever clung forfour mortal hours in the cold, chillingwaters to a rough stone wall, and then,cramped and in the momentary fear of be-ing recaptured, swam a mile or' more toshore? This I have done, but this was noth-ing to what I have suffered since. Ah ! looknot at me and wonder that I thus openlyconfess myself an escaped convict to you,for to the prison authorities I am a deadmac, and no friend of the Brethren of theBlood will refuse me hospitality and coun-dence."" Then you are "

" Colonel Andre. Nay, do not start. Toowell do I know that one word to you—andthat word I could utter—would bring myfriends of the order to my relief. I mightboldly have ventured hither before, for Iwas called dead; but my prison clothes dis-closed me at least an escaping convict. 1have starved, almost died, for over a monthin coming hither—hiding, slinking, stealingthe refuse from other peoples' tables to keepsufficient life in my body to creep hither.This old coat saved me as I came here. Inthe darkness I picked it up in the country,and it covered my prison clothes. A weekback I came across a fragment of a NewYork paper, and in it read : • Colonel Andreor friends : The treasure is in our agent'shands, the astrologer, Grog Lane.' I in-quired for you and came hither.. Am I wel-come?""Eat!"It was the only reply of the astrologer as

the servitor entered the room and placed onthe table a salver containing a meal consist-ing of tbe ohoioest viands.The convict drew up to the table and with

no apologies feasted his eyes on the food.He ate unsparingly, like a half-famishedman, and when he had concluded the mealturned to the astrologer with a new vitalityin his eyes, a new strength in his everygesture." Have you come to claim the treasure ?

Have you brought proofs of your identity ?"

inquired the astrologer, as his visitor finishedthe request."No; I have not come for that. I have

come to ask you to let me rest here for afew days, and then I will not only prove toyou my identity, but will repay you foryour kindness to me."" There has already been an application in

behalf of your daughter, if Portia Andre is,

as you claim, your child."A gleam of surprise and joy came into the

convict's eyes." Then No. 93 has been true to his trust.""

' No. 93 ! '" repeated the astrologer, in apuzzled tone of voice. " Who is that ?"

In a few brief words the colonel detailedhis experience with Cecil Vivian, and re-lated bis entire story to the astrologer." I am convinced from what you say,"

said the astrologer, when Colonel Andrehad completed bis narrative, " that you arehe whom you profess to be. I will anon tell

you a story of your friends, the Brethren of

the Blood, but he whom you call No. 93, andwho was none other than Cecil "Vivian, tbe

defaulter of the Goloonda Gold-Mining Com-pany of Alameda, California, is dead."" Dead I" repeated the colonel, with astart

of surprise and regret." Yes ; he was found dead in a pit tbe

morning after the escape, shot through the

head, it was supposed, by the guard. Theman who answered the advertisement Is

named Gould Dayton, president of the Gol-oonda Gold-Mining Company."" Dayton, Payton 1" repeated the colonel,

abstractedly. •• I never knew any one bythat name.""Nevertheless, this man came here with

the information that ho knew of the exist-

ence of the daughter of Colonel Andre, Por-tia Andre. This is all I know, except thathe comes here to-morrow and brings herwith him to claim the treasure which I, as

agent of the Brethren of the Blood, hold in

trust for her."" My daughter !" cried the colonel, in an

agony of ecstatic surprise and joy. " Oh!Providence is kind and she still lives !

"

" I know not," replied the astrologer. " Asyou know, there are enemies to our orderwhom we cannot trust. Plots against us wemust ever be wary of. This treasure is

enormous, and as a testimonial of the grati-

tude of the order for your discovery andreturn of the diamond, has been made aprincely dower. We have, therefore, sincethis man Dayton came to us, followed himand had him watched, and in this pursuitsome strange developments have been ascer-tained regarding this Cecil Vivian, oneArnold Daore, and others. It is a strangemystery in which all the parties are con-cerned, and when we have unraveled theschemes they seem all a.party to, we will in-form you of everything. As it is, ColonelAndre, rest. I will see that you are fur-nished with a suit of clothes, and to-morrowyou will have an opportunity to ascertain if

the woman to be presented by this .manDayton is your daughter or some impostor.""But how can I tell?" inquired Andre.

" They say the natural instincts guide themother to her child. But as for me, I havenot seen my child for fifteen years; andthink of the changes that these years mayhave wroughtin her.""There is one infallible proof," said the as-

trologer, "one irrefragible proof—the se-cret symbols of the order of the Brethren ofthe Blood upon her arm.""You are right."Here the interview terminated, the colonel

soon retiring to rest, the astrologer still bus-ily engaged in perusing the ancient volumeon the table before him.An hour or more went by, when there

came a loud knock at the door below. Theservitor was again summoned at the tap ofthe bell at the astrologer's hand; the doorbelow was opened, and soon after there en-tered a man, travel-worn and evidently ex-hausted.He was a tall, dark-skinned man, and

seemed upon familiar terms with the astrol-oger." I have succeeded in something tangible

this time," he said, as be drew from underhis cloak a little oblong tiu box. " Whateverthe plottings of this man Dayton may be,there are many mixed up in it. At everyturn I find myself at fault.""Did he go to Gratiot last night?" in-

quired the astrologer."He did."" And you followed himthither ?"" No—I preceded him. r knew his desti-

nation, and I anticipated his arrival thereby several hours. I watched the parties whoseemed to be involved in this plot, if plot it

be, and managed to get this box. Whom itconcerns, what it refers to, I know not. Ionly know that it bears sufficiently import-ant relation to some of ibe characters inwhom weare interested to be tbe subject ofconsiderable care and attention on the partof a woman, and to be stolen from her by aman, the valet of this Arnold Dacre."The astrologer took up the box and placed

it in a drawer by his side, having first re-garded its exterior curiously.Then be resumed his labor at the books

before him, reading and making notes witha pen on the margin and in the body of thepage.At last, his labor being seemingly finished,

he lay back in his chair as the man retiredfrom the apartment and mused abstract-edly."The affair is reaching its culmination,"

he said slowly and aloud, " and another daywill develop the truth of this man Dayton'sstatement to the effect that he is cognizant

of the whereabout of tbe daughter of Colo-nel Andre, and can produoe her at any mo-ment. Let me once more look over the caseand see that there is no chance left to de-ceive me or lead me to commit an error in

the disposition of the trust left for execu-tion in my hands by the order of the Breth-ren of the Blood."The page before him was closely written

and covered with marginal notes, and wasas follows:

"Hazri, astrologer of the city of NewYork, a true and faithful agent of the mys-tic order of the Brethren of the Blood,placed there by the sanction and commandof the society to aid its wandering members,to befriend its allies, to watch its enemies,to follow its mandates, is placed in charge ofa trust for the daughter of Colonel Andre,Portia Andre, in consideration of the im-mense benefits conferred on this order bytbe said Andre. Said trust is a reward forche action of said Andre, and is oontainedin a casket in the hands of the said agent."This casket is to be delivered to Portia

Andre only. The agent is to exert all duediligence in ascertaining the whereabout ofthe said Portia Andre, and to avoid all de-ception, as the order has enemies, as the se-cret may have become patent to somescheming, meroenary plotter. In order toaccomplish the true ends of this mandatethe said Hazri, astrologer, is to see that uponthe right arm of the said Portia Andre is

imprinted the mystic symbols of this order,distinctly indelible. The test will preventany deception as to these signs." In accordance with the above, adver-

tisements have been inserted in all the NewYork papers calling for information in re-gard to Colonel Andre or his daughter.

" A man bearing the name of Gould Day-ton appears with professed knowledge ofthe existence of Portia Andre." This man is watched, and a day set for

him to bring forward the maiden and proveher claims to the treasure." A plot being suspected, he and a woman

called Mabel Clare, one. called Mrs. Dane,and two men, Arnold Dacre and his valet,Jean Draschels, are placed under surveil-lance." Plots within a plot of these individuals

seem apparent." Colonel Andre himself appears. Ourspy

springs a mysterious package aud reportssingular events." If the man named Cecil Vivian was a

friend to Colonel Andre, our duty is tofathom the mystery surrounding these menand understand more fully and plot moredeeply."

Here the record terminated. Tbe astrolo-ger closed the book and soon after left theapartment.

CHAPTER XX.IN THE LION'S DEN.

Little conscious of the plot against herliberty by her husband, Ethel Dayton hadrisen early on the morning following her in-terview with him aud had. sent the servantto the village to execute several small com-missions incidental to the household man-agement. She did not know that still, de-spite the pouring rain and tempestuousweather, two men werehiddenin tbeshrub-bery near at hand, watching for this veryevent to transpire, while a short distancedown the road, by (be wayside was a closecarriage, tbe driver upon the box readv tomove quickly forward at a given signalfrom Gould Dayton and his confederate,William Bowler.She was startled from a deep reverie into

which she had fallen afew miuutes after thedeparture of Mrs. Tborne by a ring at thedoor-bell, aud arising she went thither andopened the' door. As she did so a formquickly shot past her, followed by a second,and the door was violently closed, while shefelt herself firmly held in the grasp of GouldDayton^" Unhand me, sir!" she cried, as she strug-

gled in the iron grasp of her husband." What does this mean?"" You'll find out soon, my lady." replied

Dayton, viciously. " Go ahead, Bill, get hershawl and bat and signal tbe carriage.Now, then," to Ethel, "one word and onemore struggle aud I will make no bones atgagging you. Since you've roused the devilin me you shall see Its operations to the full-est extent.A feeling of sickness at heart came over

her as she realized how impotent would heher ories and struggles. She donned the

THE SATURDAY LIBRARY. 19

shawl and hat, and as the man Bowler leftthe house, ami going to the gate whistledpeculiarly three times, Bald in a tone ofvoice trembling and agitated

:

" Mau ! devil P' she oried, her passion over-coming her prudenoe, " you may imprisonme as you choose—you dare notm urder me

—

and when I regain my freedom I will fol-low you to the grave and expose yourcrimes !"

Seeing hew impossible it was for her touse force in opposition to these brutes, shequietly entered the oarriage, and after along ride they stopped in front of a glooiny-looking house and were received by an oldhag, wbo opened the door and led the wayto a room on the seoond floor, plainly fur-nished aud with a fire burning in the grate.Then they left her.Ethel heard them lock the door and bolt

it, heard their retiring footsteps down thestairs, and going to the barred windows Bawthe mau euter the carriage and be drivenaway.She realized that she needed all her wits to

aid her iu opposing the influence and evildesigns of the man to whom she had beenmarried.

CHAPTER XXI.BALKED.

Cecil Vivian looked out upon the drearylandscape from his chamber that morningwith varied emotions.ForeveTmore shut out from any future in-

tercourse with Ethel Dayton by reason of hisaccursed identity as Arnold Dacre, foreverdebarred from approaching the woman heloved by her marriage to Gould Dayton, heexperienced tb« pangs of a very demon ofunrest as he realized how impotent was heto aid her, for he knew that she hated anddreaded her husband even as she did the realArnold Dacre.He was powerless to assist her, de-

barred from approaching her by her ownact of dismissal, and hecould only chafe likea caged lion as he realized his position.New circumstances demanded his atten-

tion that day.Early iu the morning he saw Gould Day-

ton come to the v .11a, and he held a long in-terview with Miss Clare in the library.He was somewhat surprised an hour later

to Hud Mabel awaiting the arrival of thecarriage which was to convey her to thedepot at Gratiot. She was dressed as for ajourney." Are you going away ?" he questioned, in

amazement."Yes; to New York.""Alone?"" Yes. I have business with Mr. Dayton

in New York. He left on the last train."Tbe young man reflected for a minute.

Perhaps this was a mission bearing: referenceto the treasure of the Brethren of the Blood.His determination was at once taken ; hecould not afford to lose this opportunity toascertain the real object of the journey." 1 will accompany you also," he said.

She demurred." Mr. Dayton would not like it," she said.

" He was particularly cross and evil-dispos-ed toward you this morning."" I will at least see you as far as the city. I

have business in New York," he said, andthus managed to occupy a 'seat with her inthe carriage to the depot, and thenoe to thecity.He did not draw her out.She was close-mouthed upon the subject

of her business. That, she affirmed, was aconfidential affair whieh she dared not di-

vulge even to him, and she smiled him apleasant good-by as the carriage conveyedher away to Gould Dayton's office and left

Vhe young man standing alone ruminatingperplexedly over the course events hadtaken.What should he do? He was sworn to

Colonel Andre to proteot the interests of his

daughter, and yet here perhaps on the verythreshold of the undertaking he was power-less to act.His resolve was soon taken to keep the

pair in sight that day.Going to a coachman with a olose vehicle

near at hand he placed a ten-dollar goldpiece in his band." Are yon quick-witted and sharp-sighted,

my man?" he asked."This takes the cobwebs out of my eyes,

sir," he said, significantly." I'll make it double if you do my work

well to-day. Do you see that carriage turn-ing the corneryonder ?'

'

" I does, governor."

" Keep it in sight till I give the word tostop the chase. Do you understand ?"

"Perfeotly, governor."Cecil entered- the oarriage and drew down

the blinds.The vehiole started, and from the oorner

of the ourtained window he watched the oneoarrying Mabel Clare.

It drove first to the building occupied bythe Golconda Gold-Mining Compauy, whereGould Dayton's offices were located. It wasthe first time Ceoil had seen the buildingsiuoe his arrest, and he gazed upou it withvaried emotions.Miss Clare alighted and entered the pri-

vate office of thH president.Dayton received her indifferently, and

motioned her to a seat without stopping athis work of siguing some papers before him.Finally he laid down his pen and looked up."It is nearly time for our engagement,"

he said, consulting his jeweled chrouometer." Are you prepared for it?"" I am schooled perfectly," she replied,

emphatically."Let there be no failure, Mabel. Remem-

ber the lesson I have taught you—perfectiguorauce of your early life. The mark ouyour arm is your only proof of identity. Mystory will tell the rest. Aud your share ofthe plunder—plainly, you are thinking ofthat?""Yes."" It will be forthcoming.""At once?"" At once—certainly.""One-half, you said."''Yes."" Then let us go. I am anxious to termi-

nate the affair; thinking of it makes menervous."He led her from the office and out to the

carriage as he spoke, not noticiug the vehi-cle Btanding opposite the building, whichstarted at a short distance from the one oc-cupied by himself and Miss Clare aad fol-

lowed it closely."This business ends our communication

with each other, Mabel," he said. "If I havebeen harsh at times with you, or severeagainst Arnold Dacre, do not blame me. I

would not willingly gain your enmity. I

ask a continuation of your friendship asheretofore."She regarded him with a look of singular

interest."I wish our connection to end here," she

said. " I am tired of fighting against evil,

aud yet not resisting it successfully. If this

money you expect had one stain of dishonoror blood with it 1 would not touch a pennyof it. I. would withdraw from the scheme at

once."Dayton's eyes gleamed evilly as he looked

at her.She little knew the possibility of evil in

this man's nature. She was not yet out of

his power.They rode on in silence for some time, the

vehicle—to the driver of which Dayton hadgiven his orders before starting from theoffice—turning into a dirty, narrow thor-oughfare." Bather a dilapiaated quarter for the se-

cretion of a million. I believe you said amillion, Mr. Dayton?" shesald, with ironical

sarcasm."Yes."" And what may be the name of this aris-

tocratio quarter?" she pursued." Grog Lane."" The fairy princess of the romance gropes

in dirty waters for her pearls," said Miss

Clare, jestingly."Gold is gold, and bears the same value,

whether covered with the butcher's grease

or the patchouli of the aristoorat," replied

Dayton; "whether gained by piracy or

hard-fisted labor." ..,«,.," Do you think so ?" queried Mabel, re-

garding Dayton with an expressive glance.

"•Gold dishonestly accrued takes ready

The man's only reply was a contemptuous

sneer at her moral homily, followed by the

words

:

" We are there."" Here'" muttered Miss Clare, in surprise,

as the oarriage stopped before the dilapi-

dated building, in the upper portion of

which the astrologer resided. ," Is this the

place?""Yes "

He assisted her to alight and knocked

loudly at the door, looking uneasily around

at the gaping crowd of urohins who throng-

ed the lane at the unusual sight of suoh

grandeur as a coach and a well-dressed gen-

tleman and lady in those quarters.

The servitor met them at the door and

bowed low to Dayton, whom he recognizedas a former visitor.

" Hazri?" said Dayton, in rn anxious tone." He is alone," said the servitor.Dayton led his companion up the narrow,

crooked stair-way, and preceded by the serv-itor, who ushered them into the reception-room of the astrologer.The gaze of the woman expressed an agree-

able surprise as her eyes fell upon the richcarpet and tapestried arras, and if the fur-niture of the room was plain, its bhoice in-dicated taste aud refinement on the part ofthe owner.The astrologer entered the apartment a

few minutes after their arrival. He bowedwith a dignified manner to the visitors, seat-ed himself at the table, aud opening theponderous book which lay upon it, said aslie fixed his eyes upon the wondering MissClare :

"This is the young lady to whom you re-ferred, I believe, sir?""This is Miss Portia Andre," replied Day-

ton." Foregoing the proofs for thepresent mo-

ment, Mr. Dayton," continued the astrolo-ger in a quiet toue.of voice, "let me say thatthese proofs must be positive aud beyond adoubt. The trust which it devolves uponme to execute is a most important and sa-cred one, aud my fidelity to the interests ofthe mystic order of the Brethren of theBlood demand a careful consideration ofall intermediate points between the bareassumption on your part that this younglady is Portia Andre and no other, and theproof of that assertion. Your name, younglady, is

"

"Mabel Clare."" You mean that is the name you are at

present known by ?"

She bowed assentingly." Are you aware of any facts and have

any proof thereof which would indicateyour early childhood ?"

"None."" You remember nothing of your early

life ?"" Absolutely nothing, sir," she replied,

steadily, never quavering under the calm,searching gaze he bent upon her. " I wasfound, I am told, wandering the streets ofNew York, a mere child, by an old woman,now dead. My life sinoe has been spent inworking in a factory and staying iu an oldtenement-house, friendless and alone."" Then, Mr. Dayton," the astrologer said,

" my conversation must be with you. Howlong have you known Miss Clare—or ratherMiss Andre, her proper name, should sheprove to be the person you assert her to be ?"

" Five years."" Please detail the circumstances of your

acquaintance with her." I will, sir," briefly replied Dayton, with

a brisk, business-like air, confident of his

ability to prove satisfactorily tbe claim ofhis accomplice to the treasure which theyhad plotted for. " I had charge of a tenement-house where this young woman resided. I

enmo across her, sick and poor, while colleot-

iug reu ts. Accidentally I observed the mys-terious marks upon her arm. I thought noth-ing of their import at the time. Pitying herforlorn couditiou I offered her a position asgoverness, orrathercompanion, toafriend'schildren. In looking over her effects left inmy charge one day I came across a ring.

This is it. She had never seen it before. It

was wrapped up in a piece of- paper, in apocket of a dirty and ragged child's apron,which she said had lain in a box containingher other personal effects for years."He handed a ring to the astrologer as he

spoke, a plain gold ring, a child's bauble,cputaining inside the words, "Portia An-dre."

" I saw your advertisement," continuedDayton, " and came to see you. That is all.

Upon her arm are the singular signs to

which you once alluded."" Let me see them." ,

Miss Clare, without any more ado, flungback her black water-proof cloak and un-buttoned her cuff.

She raised her sleeve above the elbow.Upon the fair white arm were the dark, dis-

tinct signs.The astrologer s eyes were bent olosely

over the uncovered arm. His manner indi-

cated his belief that she was in reality PortiaAndre.

.

"Are you satisfied?" iuquired Dayton,eagerly, as the astrologer continued to re-

gard the mysterious symbols."Partly ; but I must commit no error ia

this business."The servitor entered from the outer room." Bring me the test-lotion," he said.

20 THE SATURDAY LIBRARY.

The servitor returned In a few minutesfrom the adjoining apartment with a salverupon whioh was a little silver dish contain-ing a curiously tinted, purplish liquid, bythe side of which was a damp sponge." The marks of our order may be counter-

feited," said the astrologer slowly, " but theInk used in making those marks—never. Ifthese are not genuine they will disappear;if they are they will remain."The young lady held out her arm at a sign

from the astrologer. She knew not what theresult might be.Breathlessly the three saw the purplish

deooction work slowly around the marks,saw the sponge dipped and applied againand again, smoothly brushing off the lotion.The marks bad disappeared.Gould Dayton had started baok with an

oath, expressing his disappointment andlhagriu.Mabel Clare, the same calm, stately being

under all circumstances, smiled contemptu-ously at his poorly laid aud easily detectedplot, and coolly buttoned her sleeve, whilethe astrologer, rising to his feet aud turninghis flashing eyes upon the two conspirators,uttered the single word

:

"Fraud!"At that moment the arras was disturbed

slightly and a human faoe peered forth, un-seen by the trio. A pale, startled faoe fixedits eyes upon the crest-fallen Dayton, andthen turned attentively to the features ofthe astrologer, who said :

" Your plot has failed. I have suspectedyou from the first. I am certain of yourvillainy now. There could be but one manwho had the courage sufficient to attemptthis deception upon us, but one man suf-ficiently initiated into the mysteries andsymbols of our order to thus be familiarwith it and attempt this imposition upon us,and that man is

"

The arras moved aside, and Colonel Andrestepping forward confronted theguilty con-spirators, and fixing his eyes upon the hor-rified and startled Gould Dayton, utteredthe single word-:'•Marston!"

CHAPTER XXII.UNMASKED.

Confronted by the person whom he had sowronged, brought face to face with the manwhom he had hated most on earth, in viewof the fact that he had believed him tobe dead and forever out of his way,Gould Dayton stood absolutely petrified.He staggered to a seat and sunk into it me-chanically, and sat speeohless, bis eyes fix-

ed upon the avenging wraith of ColonelAndre." Marston!" repeated the astrologer, in a

tone of startled surprise, " is this man Mars-ton?"

" This wretch, this fiend, whosecrimesareas numerous as the sauds of the sea, whoselow, evil nature knows nothing of honor orright or good, is he," said Audre, regardingthe abject creature with a look iii whichanser aud contempt mingled. "Shall I

crush him where he is? Shall 1 avenge mywrongs aud those of others at this moment,and rid the world of a fiend in humanshape7Man, devil, as you ca^e for your life, as youhope to leave this room alive, answer metruly. Where is my daughter?""I know not."Fear wrung the words from the lips of the

craven—the rage and fierceness of the otherforced the deniaLfrom Gould Dayton.

" Do you mean to say you do not knowwhere my daughter is ?" demanded the colo-nel, sublime in his auger, approaching theman with threatening gestures. " Do youmean to say you did not steal my child fromme when you sent me to rot and die in thathorrid prison ? Answer me truly, for I will

bear no trifling, I warn you.""Idouotkhow. I did not "

"Listen to me, Marston," continued thecolonel, cooling down somewhat, as heseemed to believe the man's denial of theiacousation of kidnappiug his daughter.•' You have taunted me when powerless withthis; if it be so, you are not free from myvengeance when you leave this room. Myhatred shall follow you. My watchful eyesshall search out the falseness or truth of

what you say, and if you have lied to me,-beware, for I will tear your false, cravenheart from your bosom and torture you till

you die.""Bold words, these," returned Dayton, as,

noting that he was in no immediate dangerof the vengeance of the man he had so

wronged, his bravado came to his rescue." An escaped convict, your first appearance

on the street will be the signal for your ar-rest."" And the minute Colonel Andre enters a

prison at your instigation witnesses yourdeath at the hands of the Brethren of theBlood," spoke the impressive voioe of theastrologer.At that minute, as Gould Dayton turned

pale with fear at the significant reference ofthe astrologer to the order he so dreaded,there came a knook at the door below, anda minute later the servitor ushered CeoilVivian into the apartment."No. 93!" ejaculated the colonel, spring-

ing forward. " You here ? I thought youdead."The impostor started, confused, perplexed

for a minute.Then he said calmly

:

'You are mistaken, sir. I have not thehonor to know you. My business was withyonder young lady, Miss Clare. To watohover her interests, and to prevent any ad-vantage being taken of her, I have followedher hither."" And who gave you the right to intrude

upon my business 7" demanded Dayton,furiously." My friendship and interest for Miss

Clare," responded Cecil, firmly." Do you mean to say that you are not the

man who pledged me in the prison at SingSing?" demanded the colonel, as he regard-ed Cecil with a searching look." Some fancied resemblance I bear to your

friend must have deceived you," repliedCecil, steadily. "My name is ArnoldDacre."" Then," demanded the colonel, holding to

the hand of the young man, " where did youobtain that ring?"Fatal circlet! the ring which had been

given by the convict to his comrade in es-cape from the prison had betrayed its

owner."You are not Arnold Dacre," spoke the

voice of the astrologer, " for Arnold Dacreis dead. If you are actuated by any fear atthis minute of yonder man," pointing toDayton, " dismiss that fear. He dare notinjure you, for his head is already too nearthe halter to dare to expose you or ColonelAndre."Mabel Clare had grown steadily paler as

the terrible supposition that her real loverwas dead, and that she had been made thedupe of an impostor, flashed over her mind.Gould Dayton, stupefied, confused, wonder-ing, was silen t, and arose to his feet." Come," he said, turning to Mabel Clare,

" we will leave here."She repelled his outstretched hand, and

said with a quiet dignity:"No; here our compact ends. Henceforth

our paths diverge.""Beware!" he hissed, his eyes gleaming

dangerously. " I have been balked for thepresent, but my time will come."" Then, go alone. I fear you not."The craven turned, without a look at the

occupants of the room. His brain was in awhirl of rage, chagrin and amazement. Theservitor followed, and locked the door afterhim as he left the room."I am going," said Mabel Clare finally,

drying her tears and starting to her feet."I am going to seek revenge.""Revenge," repeated Colonel Andre, in

surprise, " for what, of whom ?"" Of Gould Dayton, for the murder of Ar-

nold Dacre!" she cried, in apassionate toneof voice, foreign to her nature. "The mys-tery of that night is clear to me now. Ar-nold Dacre was killed, and Gould Daytonwas his murderer."She went from the apartment as she spoke,

leaving the men together, each wonderingat the singular turn affairs had taken on thateventful day.

CHAPTER XXIII.SEARIKG THE END.

At last the mystery surrounding the eaBeof Cecil "Vivian was in a fair way to becleared away, and yet he hesitated to avowopenly what was known to the astrologer,Colonel Andre, Mabel Clare, and GouldDayton.The least suimiseon the part of the pris-

on authorities as to his whereabout and thatof his companion, the least intimation thatthey were in existence, would place themback in captivity and Bend them againwhere their power to act would be limitedand ineffectual.They had nothing, they reasoned, to fear,

except from Gould Dayton, and Colonel An-dre expressed his regret at allowing the manto escape, thus giving him an opportunity

to place the deteotiveson their track; butthe astrologer's face wore a peculiar smileas be told them to have no fear on thatscore, that before night, in addition to thewarnings he had already received, GouldDaytou would be told decisively of the im-mediate fate awaiting him should he utterone word concerning these men whose lib-erty was in his hand.As to Mabel Clare, they feared nothing.

In their inmost heart they felt a keen sym-pathy for the woman, and Colonel Andreexpressed a lively interest in her futurewelfare.He knew that she would bring her lover's

murderer—ifassassinated he bad surely been—to the gallows, if it took a life-time to con-summate it." What shall we do—how shall we move?"

was the query of the two escaped prisoners,and Hazri, the astrologer, answered themslowly.For the colonel, he bade him remain with

him for a month at least, in the meantimeexerting all due vigilance in advertising forhis lost daughter.As to Yivian, he bade him retain the iden-

tity he had assumed for the present and goboldly about. He need not fear ; nor yetbe hasty, butslowly work to the necessarypoint.

The evidence of the spies of the Brethrenof the Blood would soon disentangle all themystery of the stock and complete theproofs of Gould Dayton's villainy and per-fidy.Cecil Vivian boldly entered the world

again, and his first move was to go toGratiot.He would have evaded it if he could.He found Gervaise Villa still tenanted by

Miss Clare, but when she came down to.thedrawing-room that evening he scarcely rec-ognized her.

She had abandoned all the jewelry whoseelegance and richness had combined to pro-duce so dazzling an effect with her peerlessbeauty.She had dressed her hair simply, had as-

sumed a plain black dress, and while look-ing far lovelier in the rare simplicity of herattire, her pale cheeks told a story of recentsuffering difficult for her to conceal."lam going away to-night," she said to

him, when she met him, " and we may notmeet again for some time, Mr. Vivian."" You are going to leave here ?" he said in

some surprise. " Have you any definite ob-ject in view?""Yes, I have laid my plains for the fut-

ure."" Can I be of any assistance to you, Miss

Clare ?" he asked, respectfully." No, thank you. The money I have will

be all I shall need. We have both sufferedterribly through this man, Gould Dayton,and if I ever need a friend I shall call uponyou."" You can depend upon my assistance," he

replied, warmly.Thus they parted, she leaving her place to

oarry out her scheme of vengeance; he, thefollowing morning, unable to overcome thefascination which led him thither, going tothe little white cottage on the outskirts ofthe village.He would go there now ; he would see Mrs.

Dane once more, at least. He would tell herall.

Why Bhould he avoid telliDg her his sad,eventful story, which the others knew ?Had he not been there that, evening whenGould Dayton had taken refuge in the porchfrom the storm, she might have -passed inundiscovered and he have gone away with-out being cognizant of her' identity andwhereabout.She was now in the hands of the villain,

and his wife or not, he would reveal himself *to her and let her know that she had atleast one true friend to rely on.A ring at the door-bell brought the old

servant, Mrs. Thome, to the door."Mrs. Dane?" he asked, noticing the per-

turbation of manner on the part of thenurse." Gone, sir.""Gone!" he repeated. "Where?"" I do not know, sir. It's a mystery to me.

The nicht ye were not here, the man cameand went—her husband, I tak it. The nextmornin', when I came fra the village, whereI bed gone marketin', she war no whar to befound."

Cecil left the cottage with a heavy heartHe made diligent inquiry in the village, butfound not the slightest clew which mightlead to the discovery of the fate of thewoman.

THE SATURDAY LIBRARY. 21

CHAPTER XXIV.TWO BREAKS FOR LIBERTY.

Evening in the vaat institution devoted tothe taming of human beaata of prey trans-formed into beaata of burden. Burdens ofthe day, phyaieally carried, laid down forthe adoption of far more wearing burdens ofthought.

. When Tom Jonea, oonviot No. 4T, had beenreturned to Sing Sing, which tames andsends its pat inula away with moral crutchesand slings, and had been lashed and starvedand shower-bathed till nearly dead, he wasremoved to the dungeon ceil, a cell in whichthe moat incorrigible and insubordinateprisoners were confined.

It waa uulike the other oella in but two re-spects. It waa near the oorridor guard, toErevent eaoape unseen from the inside, andad steel bars at the window ; and yet, when

they turned the key of the dangeroua cellupon old No. 47, new No. 195, for the firsttime, he smiled grimly, went through a pan-tomime battle with his brawny flata, and feltof his immense muscles gloatingly."I won't Btay here long," he said, and he

kept his word.Even if he had not been watohed closely,

it is doubtful if he would have availed him-self of the tools on his work-bench to aid hisescape. .

He had other ideas in his mind, and inevery difficult and heavy labor he took anactive aud foremost part, indulging his wiry,thiok-knit sinews to their fullest capacity,and exerting his muscles until they bulgedout like an ox's limbs.He was training for the battle, he was pre-

paring for the grand coup of bis life, he wasgoing to " break jail."

One night he placed his strong, brawnyfists on the smooth and polished steel barswith herculean strength.They gave, bent, and oame back straight

as arrows, irresistible aa ever.He repeated the operation hour by hour,

night by night, until one night he heard anominous snap, away back in the thick stonewalls.He smiled grimly, triumphantly. He bad

broken the iron anchor holding the steelbars in their places.Move one. Inventive genius and brute

force had made one gigantio stride towardliberty.The ensuing night he made a second dis-

covery.As constant dropping of water wears away

stone, so constant tension had weakened thesteel bars, and had worn the hole in themasonry into which the ends penetratedbeyond their original size.

He worked these bars only sufficiently toget through, and one dark, tempestuousnight he gathered all his brute strength forthe final effort.

He began operations by turning the barsuntil the resisting force was from the out-side, and pushed against them with all hismight.Afterward, the outside guard remembered

of dimly seeing a glittering object shootdownward, accompanied by an unusualnoise.He paid but little attention to it, however,

little dreaming that convict No. 195, old No.4", had pushed the champion steel bara fromtheir sockets—had opened a way to freedom.The next morning Tom Jones was free. To

the consternation of theofncers of the jail

his cell was found empty!

Singular coincidence! That same even-ing, which found the cold, wet, drippinggiant, Tom Jones, a free man once more,witnessed poor, tortured EthelDayton striv-

ing likewise for her liberty with a deter-

mined will, with a desperate resolve.

From the day she, had entered the oldhouse by the sea-sida she had seen no one,

bad conversed with no one, except the oldwoman who brought her her meals and at-

tended to her apartment.Upon this especial night she dismissed

her, as was usual, and waited until perfect

quiet about the house indicated that she

had retired for the night. Then she ap-proached the window.The sash, as she knew, was nailed down,

from previous efforts to move it. As a wild

gust of wind swept by the building, she

struck one of the large panes of glass with

her hand, which was bound up in a wettowef, and the crashing of the glass was lost

in the tumult of the tempest without.Tim shutters were secured with a chain,

which held tbem so close together that they

only went a few inches apart.

The slats were strong and were well made,and she knew that only a strong blow wouldbreak them.She took up the poker from the fire-place,

pried at the lower hinge of one of the shut-tera, and soon had the satisfaction of seeingit swing loose from the building on thestrong winds of the storm.Directly below the window waa the arched

roof of the vestibule, and thenoe to theground it was quite a distance.She, hurried on a shawl and cloak, and

then stepping on a chair, climbed throughthe window and squeezed through the aper-ture between the loose shutters and the win-dow-sill.Dizzy-headed, and blinded by her exploit,

she slid over to the smooth tin roof of thevestibule to which she had fallen, and olungto the eaves in a trembling terror.In the uncertain light, as she clung there,

she knew not the distance to the ground, butshe realized that sooner or later she must re-lease her final hold.Already her fingers were cramped and

strained, and uttering a silent prayer toheaven for aid in her dire extremity, sheclosed her eyes and dropped to the ground.She stumbled and fell, arose to her feet, andthen turning toward the direction of thelake, hastened to the beach.She found the shingly sands far less tire-

some than the muddy roads, and she hurriedon, unterrified by the dashing of the wavesor the wild sounds of the storm.Blindly on she staggered, mile after mile,

hour after hour, falling, stumbling, butbravely struggling to plaoe many miles be-tween heraelf and her recent jailers, andfinally, just as the first dim tracings of earlymorning appeared in the eastern sky, shegained a little evergreen forest near thewater and rested.The storm had ceased, but the sky was sul-

len and threatening, the air heavy and fog-gy, the earth damp and muddy.She sat down under a tree and rested,

cold, chilled, and hungry. Where was she?How near to Gratiot? Should she go thereat all?Alas ! her little place at Gratiot could no

longer be the safe and oomfortable place ofconcealment it had once been ; but she hadleft a large amount of jewelry and money in

her bureau drawer there, and she wished to

seoure it to reimburse! Mrs. Thome for herservices, and to make some arrangementwith her agent to dispose of the furniture,and thenThen what?Wandering, hiding, in perpetual fear of her

husband. What a life ! What a cruel exist-

ence had fate awarded the petted child ofwealth and society.She flnallv reached the depot unobserved.

It was a lonely, dilapidated building, and as

a train stopped for a minute she hurriedaboard.She kept her veil closely down over her

face, audtpaid her fare to Gratiot, withoutattracting more than ordinary attentionfrom the conductor and the few passengersin the coach.Between Gratiot and the station direotly

north of if«as a little way-place called Junc-tion Station. It was two milea from Gratiot,

and she determined to encounter no risks,

but got off at the out-of-the-way place, has-

tening along the railroad track immediatelyafter the train had"gone. She feared meet-ing some one she knew at Gratiot—of beingrecognized or apprehended by her husband-little dreaming of the eventful scenes whichhad transpired at her former place of resi-

dence since her departure.She walked along the track, slowly Hear-

ing the town, weary, her garments soakedwith the pouring rain, her face oold, andher frame chilled with the cutting night

At last she reached the far limits of the

village. Between that, unless she went bythe regular thoroughfare, which she was de-

sirous of avoiding, in order to escape recog-

nition and possible detention, waa a seriea of

pits, some filled with water, some empty,all more or less deep and dangerous, a wild,

bleak, barren stretch of territory.

Could she but safely pass this section, she

could gain the rear of the cottage and enter

unperceived.If the house was guarded, or if Gould Day-

ton had heard of her escape from the lone

house on the shore, and was consequently onthe alert for her return, he could readily

ascertain that- fact from a survey of the

premises before eutering, and then deter-

mine her future conduct. Doubtless herhusband had heard of her escape. She mustin every way evade recapture.

She stumbled and fell a score of times.Ht r delicate hands were scratched and bleed-ing from contaot with the rough rocks, herdress bedraggled, torn and muddy; and asigh of relief arose to her lips as she emergedupon a little road leading from the villagepast her house to Gervaise Villa. She mustcross this road aud gain the woods to reachher proposed place of destination.At that minute a man came down the Kpad

from the direction of Gervaise Villa at arapid rate of speed. He stopped, looked ather, and then uttered the single word

:

"Ethel!"She turned with a cry of terror and alarm.

It was Cecil Vivian, Arnold Dacre as she be-lieved him to be, and as she saw severalother forms hastening to the place, sheturned and fled.

Back over the rough path she had come,wildly, recklessly, heedless of rocks andbrush and pits, for she had reeoguized inone of the approaching men, more by formthan feature, in the imperfect light of thestormy evening, her husband, Gould Day-ton.A stumble, a fall, a loud cry for help, a

form springing up from some dim covert,and then, as she fell downward into thewater of the pit, she lost consciousness ; not,however,|until her quick hearing had caughtthe agonized ory of Ceoil Vivian

:

"Ethel! Ethel!"

CHAPTER XXV."FOB WILLFUL MURDIB."

While Cecil Vivian had remained at Ger-vaise Villa, waiting almost hopelesaly forsomeclew to develop itself which mightleadto the discovery of Ethel Dayton, his cousinwas in New York, full of impotent anger,and afraid to move in the affair which so en-grossed his attention and time—the rearrestof Ceoil.The way was opened at last for his revenge.

An evil destiny presented an opportunity toforever place his hated rival outof the powerof injuring him.Jean Darschels, the former valet of Ar-

nold Dacre, came to Dayton's office in NewYork City.The change in the man's personal appear-

ance somewhat startled him. The light,curly hair was gone, the mustache had dis-appeared, and a smooth-faced, sharp-eyedlittle man stood before him, with none of thesmiling servility of the valet, and fully aslittle of the assumed Frenchified nonsense ofMonsieur Jean Darschels."Jean!" uttered Dayton, as he arose and

led the''man into his private room."We are alone?" he inquired, as Dayton

resumed his Beat." Quite alone.""And out of ear-shot of any eavesdrop-

per?""Entirely so."" Good. Point one. I am not Jean Dar-

sohels. I am "

The man threw back the lapel of his ooatas he spoke. His vis-a-vis started as he sawa silver badge bearing the inscription

:

Taylor Bainbridge,Detective,

United States Secret Service.

"Point two," continued the detective,briskly, business-like, giving his companionno time to put in a word. "You knew Ar-nold Dacre?""Yes.""Good again. Point three. You know

Mr. Cecil Vivian?""Yes.""Good again. Point four. Mr. Arnold

Dacre was murdered. Mr. Cecil Vivianlives, and is an escaped convict."Was the suddenness of the detective inten-

tional and assumed for effect, or was he sureof his game, certain of his prey, and onlyourt and concise from professional habit?Evidently the latter, for though his sharp,

restless eyes never wandered from the faceof Gould Dayton, its growing palenessneither startled nor surprised him.

" Four points. Do you agree with me in

all?""I do."" Then all I have got to say is between you

and I, we know, you know, who murderedArnold Dacre."He knew? Ah! only too well. Self-ac-

cused, spell-bound by the impressive man-ner of the detective, he grew white as themarble mantel-piece behiud him, and neveruttered a word."Yes, we know," resumed the detective.

" In fact, I can say that lean place my hand

22 THE SATUBDAY LIBRARY.

on the shoulder of the man who murderedArnold Dhit8 as easily as 1 now place myhand on your shoulder."He had been drawing nearer to his com-

paniou as bespoke, bringing his chair nearerand neurer Gould Dayton as he drew nearerand nearer the culminating point in bis rev-elation.Be had placed his hand on the shoulder of

his X'in-a-vU, who, white, trembling, oower-ing, sat gazing at him, horror-struok andspeechless.

, Had his crime found him out? Was hetracked at the first, suspected at the outsetof the exposition of the mystery surround-ing the strange disappearance of ArnoldDacre?Was it a plot of Cecil Vivian ? No. Plain-

ly and distinctly, the last words of the man-huuter rang out, clear and impressive, allay-ing all his fears, reassuring his cowardlyheart, threatening ruin to his enemy withthe cruelty of revenge, causing a revulsionof feeling whioh brought a fierce, intensejoy." Day by day, hour by hour, have I been

neariug on his track, tracing this thing downto a very flue point. The proofs all in, theevidence all in my hand, the man ready tobe taken, the law eager to be vindicated.In fact, I hold in my hand," and he drewan official-looking document from his innerbreast-pocket and waved it before the eyesof his companion, "a warrant for the appre-hension of Cecil Vivian, otherwise known asState convict No. 93, for the willful murderof Arnold Daore."Heaveusl what a blinding, rushing of hur-

ried ideas through Gould Dayton's brain atthe sudden revelation of this man of thelaw I What an emotion of relief, joy, hatred,vengeance, at the final declaration! Hewas free from any participation of themurder In the eyes of the law—not even sus-pected.

Did he for a minute suspect the man be-fore him? Did he suspeot that he was notacting in sincerity ? It trap there was, hefell headlong into it. Henceforth this manhad his confidence." Yes, it was Cecil Vivian," he murmured,

mechanically, magnetized at the quick man-•ner of the other, relieved from a terribletension on his mind by the expression of theuntruth.

" You bate this Vivian ; you fear him. Youhave him in your power, and yet you hesi-tate to injure him. That is now my busi-ness," continued the detective. "All I wantIs the truth. Did you see Arnold Daore onthe night of the murder ?"

" 1 did."" Did you part from him before you reach-

ed the road leading to Gervaise Villa, orafterward ?"

"Before."'.'Positively?""I swear to it."

"You met him pleasantly, in a friendlymanner, upon that night?"" No, we were not friends.""You are plain.""I am truthful.""You had no words with him, no'threats

passed between you ?"

"None ; a surprised meeting—he had beenabroad—and a cold parting.""That is all, Mr. Day ton. You are a jewel

of a witness. I go to-night to Gratiot to ar-rest Cecil Vivian. If he can be surprised in-

to a confession, it will save money and timeto the state. Will you come ?"

" Willingly."" I will call for you, then, at half-past six.

Be here and ready to go without delay."He left Gould Dayton abruptly as he spoke

—left him in a maze of malignant joy, uncer-tainty and wonder. His revenge had come,the desired fruition of his plans was to be anaccomplished fact, and his hand, did not deal

the blow.

That evening's train from the oity borehimself and the detective away. They ar-

rived at Gratiot in the wet, cheerless even-ing, and immediately went with the sheriff

. of the county to Gervaise Villa. They wereinformed that Mr. Dacre had ju»c left for

New York City on business ; had just gonedown the short road to the depot, withoutwaiting for the carriage, lest be should miss

the return accommodation train.

They hurried on after him, caught sight o.f

him ; and at last, dimly conscious of a femalefigure darting away in the darkness towardthe deserted lime-pits, caught him.For at that minute when Cecil Vivian had

started after the retreating form of thewoman he loved, as he heard the splash in

the water and the single wild cry of distress,

a hand was laid on his shoulder with a vise-

like gripe."Let me go!" he oried, struggling wildly

to escape. " A woman is in distress.''

"Not much, my covey !" oried a voioe herecognized."Jean, release me at once. Dayton, is this

another plot of yours?" he said, as he recog-nized hia cousin."No, Mr. Cecil Vivian, it is not," rejoined

the detective. " It is my plot, aud I, TaylorBainbridge, detective in the United 8tatesSecret Service, arrest you for the willfulmurder of Arnold Dacre."He heard the words, but he knew not if it

was a plot or reality. His eyes stared at thespot where Ethel Dayton had just disap-peared. His ears still rung with that last

despairing cry of the woman he loved, andhe was helpless to aid her. He cried to GouldDayton

:

' For heaven's sake, man, jump into thewater and rescue that woman. She just fell

into yonder pit!" and he pointed to a largeexcavated section', of land where the blackwaters gleamed darkly." Who was it ? What is it ?" asked Dayton,

scarcely comprehending his cousin's words,so intent was he upon the capture, so eu-grossed in believing his struggles to aid thewoman in an attempt to escape."It is a woman fallen into yonder pit!"

cried Cecil. "It was your wife, Ethel Day-ton!"

• CHAPTER XXVI.TTJENIKO OF THE TIDE.

The day of the trial of Cecil Vivian, whohad remained in prison since his arrest byBainbridge for the willful murder of ArnoldDacre, at last dawned.Of all the persons in the court-room, no

one was so complacent as Gould Dayton.He believed that he could send his cousin

to prison again, or the gallows, and he didnot fear exposure of his past plans. He wasself-posseBsed and calm as he witnessed thepale face of Vivian and believed his escapeimpossible.Bainbridge, the detective, was silent and

speculative, and professed to have a clearcase against the prisoner.Cecil Vivian was content in his prison cell

to abide the issues of the trial, relying uponthe astrologer and his friends to resist anddisprove the statements against his inno-cence of the crime alleged.The case was opened briefly by the prose-

cution when, after some little difficulty, anunprejudiced jury had been impaneled.The case was then proceeded with, and the

Erosecutor for the people called Mr. Bain-ridge.The detective took the stand and motion-

ed his desire to beheard before being sworn.The judge nodded inquiringly." Your honor," said Bainbridge, calmly,

" I would ask the favor of first relating mystory and then being examined by the at-torneys."" Let the witness be sworn," said the

judge, " and the Ordinary rules of practicebe waived, if agreeable to the £punsel forthe defense.""The departure from the regular rules

will not be objected to by us," replied Viv-ian's attorney." Then I will proceed without further

ado," continued the detective. "My nameis Bainbridge, for ten years in the secret ser-vice force of the United States. The presentcase is entirely foreign to my peculiar line inthe profession, and simply an outgrowth ofa case I bad in hand. Two months ago Imetin London, England, Mr. Arnold Dacre, themurdered man. For many years I had beenlooking for him, but I had abandoned thegame, not having been able to spot him. 1had no warrant, and the extradition treatybetween England and this country renderedforcible arrest impossible. I therefore dis-guised myself, and palming myself off uponhim as Jean Darschels, in Bearch of employ-ment, secured a situation from him as avalet, my knowledgeof theFrench languagecarrying out my assumption that 1 was aParisian.-" The case he was involved in was this

:

"When I set sail with him on a steamerfor America, myintention was to arrest himfor embezzlement immediately upon land-ing upon home soil. Circumstances changedthe determination, for I saw from letters inthis man's possession, to which I had access,that he was engaged, or rather had been en-gaged, in other plots. What those plotswere it is not necessary to state. Suffice it

to say that they had but little bearing on

this cose, and Mr. Dacre's death preventedtheir culmination."I immediately asked leave of absence for

a few flays from Mr. Dacre upon arriving in

New York City, ostensibly to visit friends inBoston, really to watch his maneuvers. I

did subsequently go to Boston, and mailedletters thence to his address at New Yorkbut upon the afternoon of the day upon,which Mr. Dacre was murdered I took thetrain, disguised, and followed him to Gra-tiot,whence be bad gone to meet h is affiancedwife, Miss Mabel Clare, at Gervaise Villa." It was dark when we reached there, and

there was no vehicle at the depot. He start-

ed with his satchel in ills hand to walk to thevilla. I followed him, my watchful move-ments being unsuspeoted by him. He metbut one man, the witness seated yonder, Mr.Gould Dayton. They spoke and parted. 1

then returned to the depot, and satisfied

that there would be nothing gained by fol-

lowing him to the villa, returned to NewYork, thence to Boston, on professional busi-

" When I returned to New York I foundArnold Daore at the hotel—Arnold Dacre,as I supposed at first, and as he representedhimselfto be, but, as-I suspected a few dayslater, an impoBtor. Your Honor, aud gentle-men of the jury, I am now ready to swearthat the false Arnold Dacre was the prisonerat the bar. Mr. Cecil Vivian, otherwiseknown as convict No. 93, escaped from SingSing prison, the murderer of Arnold Dacre."There was an intense interest throughout

the court-room at this impressive declara-tion of the detective, who, waiting for aminute, proceeded in the same methodical,business-like manner and tone of voice

:

" When I first suspected some trickery,and saw that, despite the resemblance be-tween this man Vivian, the prisoner at thebar, and dead Mr. Dacre, I began to searchfor proofs. I have, from that moment untilthe hour of arrest, searched steadily forclews to the murder. As you are aware, Ar-nold Dacre was found in the pit rear theprison of Sing Sing, with a bullet-wound inhis breast, and his face and head crushed andcovered with blood."That dead body, the corpse of Arnold

Daore, murdered bythe prisoner at the bar,was buried as the escaped convict, Cecil Viv-ian. As to proofs, I have to offer you thesuit of clothes, soiled, bloody, and a piece ofpaper upon which this man Vivian hadpracticed the real Arnold Dacre's handwrit-ing. This man Vivian had killed ArnoldDacre, flung him into the pit, and then hadassumed his identity, believing the marvel-ous resemblance would lead to the burial ofDacre as the escaped convict No. 93." Theae are all my proofs. Where the pis-

tol came from that did the deed, I know not.My convictions are that murder most fouland cold-blooded has been done, and thatthe prisoner at the bar, Cecil Vivian, wasthe murderer."An impressive pause followed the declara-

tion of the deteotive, and then he was putthrough a rigid course of cross-examination.He was followed by Gould Dayton, who de-tailed his experience of the night of themurder, of his meeting the murdered manand parting with him, and of his general ac-'quaintance with him, and several other un-important witnesses were examined, andthen the case was rested for the prosecu-tion.In the face of such purely circumstantial

evidence there was little upon which to con-vict the prisoner; yet when Gould Daytonhad given in his evidence and left the court-room, he was confident of the conviction ofhis hated rival and cousin, Cecil Vivian.Had he remained he would have been sur-

prised, if not absolutely startled, as the de-fense ealled its first witness, and a closelyveiled woman took the witness-stand

; ard,lifting aBide her veil, revealed.the pale, woe-stricken features of Mabel Clare.To every one in the room, except the as-

trologer, Hazri, and the attorneys for thedefense, this was a decided sensation. CecilVivian had been surprised outof hi? wontedcalm demeanor, and listened eagerly to herevidence. It was simple and short. Shehad known-GouId Dayton. He had been tosee her on business upon the evening of themurder. She had told him of the antici-pated visit of Arnold Dacre, and he, jealous-ly enraged, had left her with a fierce oath,vowing to get even with the man. This wasall she knew, but it created a decided im-pression favorable to the prisoner.

If the assembled throng had been amazedat the introduction of this unexpected wit-ness in the court-room, absolute wonder-ment greeted the announcement of the next

THE SATURDAY LIBRARY. 23

witnesg.and as hername was given by the at-torney lor the defense, the prisoner startedin hia seat with a startled cry, for it wasEthel, Gould Dayton's wife

!

It was of a verity Ethel, pale, and lookingmore careworn than when he had seen her<ast, but still lovely aud beloved to theyearning heart of the prisoner at the bar.The judge and jury, attorney and auditors,witnessed the surprise manifested by all con-cerned in the caBe by the unexpected ap-pearance of their new witness, and it wassome minutes before the woman was sworn.How came she here? How had she esoaped

what had seemed to Cecil "Vivian as inevi-table death ? He had believed her dead, andthis fact had been supported by the reports•rought to him through his friends, that notrace of her had been found ; but her plungeinto the dark waters of the pit upon thenight which saw Cecil Vivian a prisoner, ao-ousod of the murder of Arnold Daore, hadnot been uuperoeived.The escaped conviot, Tom Joues, lurking

in the solitary confines of the quarry, hadwitnessed the plunge, drawn her out andsaved her life.

Briefly, then, the story of this twain sincethen had been strict secrecy and hiding, andfinally that morning Ethel had gone to Viv-ian's attorney, and Tom Jones, under a safedisguise, was now in the court-room, watch-ing the course of the trial.

CHAPTER XXVII.THE VINDICATION.

"Tour name is Mrs. Ethel Dayton ?" wasthe first query which greeted Ethel as shestood in tne witness-stand in the court inwhich Cecil Vivian was arraigned as a mur-derer."Yes, Bir."

She cast a long, tender, pitying look at herlover as she spoke. Since she had knownwho he was, all her love and faith for himhad returned." Wife of Mr. Gould Dayton ?"

"They call me so.""Are you not really so ?" queried the at-

torney for the prosecution."Inlaw, perhaps I am, but when love is

concerned I am no more his wife than he myhusband," she replied, with calm dignity."Is the nature of your evidence for your

husband ?" pointedly inquired the lawyer." Certainly not," she replied, with freezing

dignity. "My husband's interests neitherconcern nor interest me."" Vou are acquainted with the prisoner at

the bar ?"

"lam."" As Cecil Vivian ?"" As both Cecil Vivian and Arnold Dacre.""Knowing them to be totally different

persons?""No, sir. The remarkable resemblance

ted me into an error.""Detail your acquaintance with the facts

in this case."Mrs. Dayton proceeded to relate her ac-

quaintance with Cecil Vivian, her marriage,her discovery of the perfidy of her husband,her flight, and the appearance of Cecil Viv-ian upon the night of his escape from SingSing prison. She told of his sudden appear-ance, of her hiding him, and of her subse-?[uent experience. How, without fear oravor, she had come to give her evidencenow, ana h,ow she believed the prisoner at

the bar to be innocent of the murder of Ar-nold Dacre.If she had hoped that her evidence, unim-

portant and lacking in some essential par-

ticulars, would clear the prisoner, she foundherself in error, for notwithstanding sheproved that Cecil Vivian had been at herhouse fully two hours after Arnold Dacre,the detective had sworn, had left the depot,

the jury were strongly fixed in their con-victions, but as she concluded a ripple of

excitement went through the court-room as

there entered Gould Dayton, pale aud woe-begone.Yet Cecil Vivian was not free. Officers of

the law were ready to arrest him as an es-

caped convict when he left the court-room,

and a new interest was created in the pro-

ceedings in court as a white haired, white-

bearded man came forward with a mysteri-

ous package in his hand and begged permis-

sion to speak in open court.

This granted, Hazri, the astrologer—for it

was he—commenced his story.

He spoke briefly of Colonel Andre, andturning pointed to thatperson in one corner

of the court-room. He alluded in a fewwell-chosen words to Tom Jones and then»poke impressively of Cecil Vivian."These three men," he said, "have fur-

thered the. ends of justice and revealed thetrue murderer of Arnold Dacre, yet theystand in the position of escaped convicts onunexpired sentences. One word from GouldDayton, who is here—his confession of thetruth—would clear all. As he will not do itwe must depend upon other proofs to clearthem. Tom Jones, the escaped convict, will,with the permission of the honorable court,relate his story of the plots against ColonelAndre and Cecil Vivian."A suppressed buzz of exoitement went

through the room as the miner stepped for-word and began his story. Through it all henever wavered, but his perfect indifferenceto his crimes evinced more of reckless habittbau utter moral abandonment. He beganhis narrative with his following of ColonelAndre with a companion to steal his watchand chain, which they had spotted as richand easily obtainable booty.The colonel had shot his comrade in self-

defense and then fled.Gould Dayton aud some friend of his then

came out of the apartment whence they badforced Colonel Audre forth, and when Day-ton Baw what had been done to the comradeof Tom Jones he called him aside and offeredhim a large amount to swear that they wereassisting him (Dayton) to expel the colonel—who was threatening violence—from theroom when he fired at the man whomDayton had called upon to assist him. Col-onel Andre was sent to prison therefore, in-nocent of the crime for the supposed com-mission of which he was adjudged a life-sen-tence.As to Cecil Vivian, the ex-convict related

all he knew concerning the plots of GouldDayton and Arnold Dacre against him.Briefly he related the plan toflood the mines,to ship iron-ore instead of gold-dust, and theburning of the steamer, all at the instigationof Arnold Dacre. He then went on to speakof subsequent events and finally related amost singular incident.He fully confessed his criminality and

kept back nothing. So intense was thisman's hatred of Gould Dayton, so resolvedto track hkn to earth, that all self-interestdisappeared in his eagerness to condemnhim. He had spoken of his later knowledgeof his error in adjudging Cecil Vivian as Ar-nold Dacre, and then went on to state thatthe package of certificates which Cecil Viv-ian had really signed he had stolen fromArnold Dacre's pocket as he left Gould Day-ton's presence the morning of the culmina-tion of the arrest. These he had hiddennear New York before arrest. Being afraidto negotiate, he returned them for fear ofdetection of his crime. When he first es-caped from prison he had secured these andhidden them near Gervaise Villa with Ar-nold Dacre's papers.The subsequent fate of these papers he did

not know, only that he had directed EthelDayton thither and they had been stolenfrom her by the pretended valet, who inturn lost them, as has been seen.Cecil Vivian then plainly told his story

from beginning to end and Hazri again tookthe stand."The mystery of the papers lost by this

man, Tom Jones, I can explain. My busi-ness man, in following various clews in con-nection with our interests, obtained thepapers by forcibly taking them from Bain-bridge, the detective. Those papers I nowoffer to this honorable court in order to jus-tify the innocence of Cecil Vivian from anycrime."The package of papars was then opened

and disclosed the missing certificates of theGolconda Gold-Mining Company, of Ala-meda, Cal. A few letters and private papersof Arnold Dacre's and a closely written MS.in the latter's handwriting confessed his

share in the plot of Gould Dayton againsthis cousin, Cecil Vivian.Whatever might have been the emotion of

this man's life in general, one thing waspositive: in two things Arnold Dacre wassincere, in his love- for Mabel Clare aud in

the confession he had written.

He told the entire story of his misspentlife_the story of the certificates of stock hehad abstracted from the drawer of the presi-

dent's desk upon the morning when Cecil

Vivian had signed the geuuineones from onehundred and one to one hundred and ten

inclusive, ten certificates in blank.These latter he had secreted, designing to.

use them for his own purpose ; the formerhe placed carelessly in his outer pocket withthe list of the banks which he was to visit.

When lie afterward found he had lost theten original certificates he filled in thosenumbered from one hundred and ten to onehundred and twenty/and cleverly forged

the names of the president and secretary ofthe company, the seal having 'been placedupon them when Dayton was out of theoffice.

He therefore had vindicated Cecil Viviancompletely by his confession.That night Cecil Viviau aud Colonel Andre

were free men, free to go where they wished,free from staiu or taint of guilt.The detective, Bainbridge, had posted

himself by the side of Gould Dayton, and asthe testimony of the witness, Tom Jones,brought out his villainy and fastened themany crimes ho had committed upon himhe turned as if to escape." I arrest you, Gould Dayton, in the name

of the law!" said Bainbridge, who immedi-ately handouffed his prisoner. An hour laterGould Dayton was an inmate of a prisoncell. His crimes had at last found him out.

CHAPTER XXVIII.CONCLUSION.

Drawing to a close, the terminal chapterof our romance has little left to detail.The render may readily anticipate the

events which, naturally occurring, placedthe fortunes of Cecil Viviau upon a firmbasis.Gould Dayton, accused of murder, with

plainly proven guilt against him, found histime cheerless aud long in his prison cell.In vain he attempted bribes, promises,

cunning, in his endeavors to escape fromjail.

Mutely he resigned himself to his fate andawaited the day of his trial sullenly, andwith vague, suicidal thoughts spent theweary days in silent chafings of his restlessspirit, the long nights in unrest and tort-ure.Tom Jones was not remanded to prison.

His straightforward, honest work in behalfof right gained a respite from officialsources and he went back to the mines ofAlameda with a resolve to become a betterman, for Cecil Vivian soon proved his claimas owner of the mines which he formerlyoccupied.Ethel Wayne, sad but contented with the

unraveling of the mystery which had sonearly wrecked her life, retired to a littlesuburb near New York and waited—waitedwith vague fear for the law to free her fromthe villain who called her wife.The confession of Arnold Dacre that Cecil

Vivian was free from any crime, that it washe who had driven past the Wayne mansionwith the woman on that eventful day iu thelong ago, brought back her love for the onewho was steadily regaining his position as aman among men.The mission of the astrologer seemed end-

ed, and by instructions received from theBrethren of the Blood he handed over toColonel Andre the fortune intended for hislost daughter.Mabel Clare remained in New York.

Earnestly as she had grieved for her deadlover, she had found a rare aud treasuredfriend iu the colonel, whose sympathies forher hopeless condition soon found expressionin an offer of marriage, long deferred; butfinally acoepted.Despite the discrepancy in their years

they lived happily together, tossed by theworld in troubled waters, but knowing howto enjoy the calm of the peaceful haven intowhich, at last, a kind providence had ledthem.One day the community was startled by

the report of a most tragio ending to theDacre-Dayton murder case.Gould Dayton, leaving a confession ac-

knowledging his own guilt and releasingMr. Wayne from any participation in anyplot or knowledge of the wrongs he had.oommitted, died by his own hand.Whence the prussic acid with which he

ended his miserable existence came, no oneknew. The empty bottle showed the meth-od of his suicide.There was a hurried inquest, the body was

buried by the authorities, nncl thus forever-more settled the case of the people againstGould Dnyton.He made some startling acknowledgments

in his confession.He had shot Arnold Dacroand flung him

into t lie pit that night,.aud Ethel Waynewas not his wife; he had been married to aMexican woman years before aud she wasstill living.Ethel Wayne, free and still loving, heard

the news gladly and her heart beat wildlyas she dreamed of the possibility of happi-ness in the future.At last the culmination of all her hopes

oame.

24 THE SATURDAY LIBRARY.

At last she was free from tbe man sh»hated and free to marry tbe man she loved.They had a quiet wedding, but joy reigned

supreme, and her husband, now restored tohis rightful position in society, and wealthy,was a model in bis devotion, and their hap-piness was complete.

[the end.}

Poison, or No Poison.

We were camping out in Australia andtalking one night of ghosts, when I clappedmy hands upon a leg of my trousers, for Ifelt something squirming next my skin.

" What is the matter?" demanded Brown." It strikes me," said I, " that a snake has

run up ray trousers-leg, and if I am not mis-taken he is wriggling to get out the wrongway.""Shake yourself and let him slide," my

friend advised, but I preferred to hold onand to trust to chance and find out whethertbe reptile was of the poisonous species orthe common green kind:."Excuse me, but if you will light a match

and a few leaves and then insert your handup one of my trousers-legs I think that wecan conquer the reptile.""I will comply with your request, though

I lose my lite in accomplishing it," saidBrown.He bastily collected a few leaves, struck a

match, and set Are to them. The flamesgave sufficient light for the purpose, and in.

less than a minute's time Mr. Brown wasready to work."Steady with your hand," he said, as he

passed bis arm along my trousers-leg insearch of the reptile. "In less than tenseconds we shall be either laughing or cry-ing."The snake, as though aware that its time

was near, made a desperate attempt to es-cape, but I held fast, although I confess thatthe effort cost me more mental resolutionthan I ever exercised before, for, the posi-tion in which I was situated was no enviousone.

I felt the cold perspiration streamingdown ray face in large drops, and my heartbeat as though it was attempting to force its

way through my side and go into businesson its own account, independent of thebody."For heaven's sake, be quiok!" I cried,

fearing that I should faint before my friendaccomplished his object."Patience—patience 1 don't get in a rage,

for it will not help us. If the snake is of thepoisonous species, a few seconds will notmake much difference, and if the animal is

harmless, were it not for the feeling of thething, it might as well lodge in your trousersas in any other part of our camp-equipage.Don't jerk so—the thing has nerves as wellas yourself."

Much more did Brown say, but I was inno humor to talk, or even to listen ; and yetI can nowfrankly confess that if he had notmade light of my misfortune I should havesuffered ten times the amount of mentalagony that I did. His jesting style of treat-ing the affair was alone sufficient to makeme keep up my spirits and imagine thematter as one of less importance than it

really was."Now, then, are you ready?" cried

Brown ; and I felt the snake suddenly ceaseits gyrations and strive to effect its escape;but I held on with a hand of iron." When I say three do you let go sudden-

ly," my friend exclaimed.I was only too willing."One! Two!"It seemed an age between the monosylla-

bles, yet 1 held on patiently."Three!"I released my hold, and Brown with a

quick movement of his hand drew out anddashed the reptile to the ground, thenstamped upon it with his heavy boots." Now let us see what kind it is," he said,

kicking it toward the fire.

A moment's examination and a heartylaugh set my fears at rest.

"You might have slept with a dozen be-neath you and no harm would have hap-pened. It is nothing but a green snake, anda small one too."

I could hardly believe the welcome news,and a personal inspection was necessary toconvince me of the fact. A strong drinkfrom my flask composed my nerves andrendered me a fit subject for sleep."Let me give you a word of advice,"

Brown said, joining me in the drink with-rvonderful alaority. "Never again camp

out without seeing that tbe bottoms of yourtrousers are shoved tight into the tops ofyour boots. This simple precaution some-times saves much trouble and suffering. I

will drink again to your lucky escape."" If you do, try the contents of your own

bottle, for mine is running low."Browu did not heed my request, and I had

the satisfaction of hearing the liquor gurg-ling down his throat as though he liked it

exceedingly.When he did return the bottle he gave me

more fatherly advice, which was to the ef-

fect that I should carry a larger flask dur-ing my travels if I expeoted toTie successfulin life and die happy.

tid-'bIts.

"Pray, Mr. Professor, what is a periphra-sis?" "Madame, it is simply a circumlocu-tory cycle of oratorical Sonority, circum-scribing an atom of ideality, lost in verbalprofundity." " Thank you, sir."

'•That gun you sold me bursted the first

time I fired it off," said an irate sportsmanto Mr. Shott. " That's very strange," saidthe latter. " It never did so before. Youmust have been putting powder in it."

A Kansas farmer purchased a revolverfor his wife, and insisted on target practice,so that she could defend her bouse in caseof his absence. After the bullet bad beendug out of bis leg, and the cow buried, hesaid he guessed that she'd better shoot withan ax.

The question arising in a Sunday-schoolas to why God created all the animals of thefields and sea and air before he created man,no one gave a solution of it until a little boysaid : " I know ; it's because he didn't wantthe man hanging around while he was mak-ing 'em."

Suggs: "That mule of yours is a finebeast. What do you oall him ?" Bluggs

:

" Fact." S. :" And what do you call the

other?" B. : "Fact." 8.: "What, do youcall 'em both Fact? How is that?" B.

:

" Why, you see, Facts are suoh stubbornthings."" Two and two never make more than

four," said a public speaker. " Yes, theydo!" cried a boy in the audience. "Per-haps our young friend will tell us when twoand two make more than four." " Whenthey're side by Bide, you old stupid—thenthey make twenty-two, don't they ?"

An inquisitive traveler, noticing that theman who sat beside him in the railroad car.had a band on his hat, observed : " I seeyou are in mourning. Was it a near or dis-tant relative that you lost ?" The bereavedone replied : " Wal, he was pooty distant

—

'bout thirty miles or so by the turnpike."" What is the matter with you ?" inquir-

ed a gentleman, who called to see his neigh-bor, a German, of Chicago. "Veil, I don'tknow—it is the gout; but vy should I havehim?" "Perhaps," suggested his friend," it is hereditary." "I think it is heredityary; I remember my wife's uncle havehim."A school-board inspector asked a small

pupil of what the surface of tbe earth eon-sists,,and was promptly answered, "Landand water." He varied the question slight-ly, that the fact might be impressed on theboy's mind, and added: "What, then, doland arid water make ?" To which came theimmediate response : "Mud."A Dutchman, in describing a pair of horses

he had lost, said :" Day was fery much

alike, specially the off one. Von lookt somuch like poth I could not tell togetherfrom which; when I went after one Ialways catch the odder, and I whipped theone most dead because the other kickedme."Rattlebone's youngest boy is a genius.

The other day he learned how to whistle,and in the evening, just before tumblinginto bed, he puckered up his little mouthand began to whistle in a slow, measuredmanner. "Why, my little son, what areyou doing?" asked the mother. " Why, ma,I'm whistling my prayers."

After the circus parade two small boysmet on the street. One of them, his faceglowing with excitement, said: "Oh,Johnny ! did you Bee that fellow with thesnakes around his neck ?" No word fromJohnny. " Yer seen the man in t tie lion'scage, in course?" No word or sign fromJohnny, save and except a cloud upon hisbrow. " Well, yer seen the ponies with thered blankets on, didn't yer ?" " Naw, an' I

didn't," said Johnny, at last, bursting intotears. " I had tastay at home and tend ourbaby, but I kin lick thestuffin' out of you !"

THESATURDAY LIBRARY,

CATALOGUE.All Earlier Numbers in J'rint.

119 TEE OLD GRANGE MYSTERY; orShawn, the Irish Vagubond. By LieutenantCarlton.

120 THE HAUNTED HOUSE ; or, The Night-hawks of the Metropolis. By Philip Shlrjey.

121 THE SHORTY TWINS ; or, The Funniestof Them All. By Nick Nipper.

122 BOSTON BILL: or, The Mad Mountaineer.By Col. Diinou Dana.

123 BLUNDERING BARNEY ; or, Born toGood Luck. Hy Police-Captain Howard.

124 HANS AND FRANZ: or, Dot Leedle Ger-zman Band. By Nick Nipper.

125 GALLANT SARSFIELD ; or, Ireland'sBrave Defenders. By Corporal MorganBattler.

126 ON THE WAR-BATH ; or, The LunaticClub in the Woods. By Phineas Budge.

127 SHAMUS O'BRIEN; or. The Bold Boy ofGlengall- By Lieutenant Carlton.

128 DADDY BRUSH; or. Taken In and DoneFor. By Nicodem us Dodge.

129 DAN, THE DANITE ; or, Rescued fromthe Mormons. Bv "Texas Joe."

130 TOM TITT ; or, Comical Adventures ofa Scapegrace. By Nicodenius Dodge.

131 DECOYED; or, AMan of Steel. AMysteryof New York City. By one of Plukerton'sDetectives.

132 PADDY MILES' BOY: or, Bound to HaveFun Somehow. By Nick Nipper.

133 THE PRINCE OP THE PLATTE ; or,Buffalo Bill's Long Trail. By Buckskin Sain.

134 TOMMY'S RACKETS; or. The SpilldykeSpasms. By " Harry."

135 COUNT ZOGONOS; or. The Royal Rene-gade. By Carleton.

136 THE TRADDLES TWINS ; or, Fun forthe Boys. By " Harry."

137 THE MANACLED HAND ; or. Detect-ive Ward's Unknown Friend. A ThrillingStory of Chicago. By Weldon J. Cobb.

138 APAOHE ABE; or, The Treasure of DeathValley. A Story of Adventure on the South-west Border. -By Kenneth Earl.

139 BREAKERS AHEAD : or, The Royal Kan-garoo Social Club. By "Pickle."

140 THE LAWYER DETECTIVE : or, TheLost Heiress. A Story of Hearts and Homes.By Police-Captain Grant.

141 NED NILES, the Yankee Drummer-Buy.A Story of a Boy's Adventures in the /-:' .yBv Colonel W. T. Bostwiok. -

142 A STROKE OF LIGHTNING ; or. TheGhost of River Lodge. By Morris Redwing.

143 A SECOND DELUGE; or, Afloat on theMississippi Flood. A Stirring Story forBoj-s. By Major Walter Brisbane.

144 THE DIAMOND HOAX ; or, A Leaf fromthe Lives of Two Detectives. A ThrillingStory of Intrigue and Crime. By John w.Osbon.

145 OLD CHEYENNE; or, The Star of theSierras. A Thrilling Romance of the Bor-der. By W. H. Bushnell. -

146 THE THREE D'S ; or, Detective Plngarn sLong Chase. A Story of a Woman's Suffer-ings. By T. W. Hanshew.

147 IN SPITE OP THEM ALL; or. An Inno-cent Counterfeiter. By Capt, C. J. Weldon.

148 BLACKLAW, THE ROVER; or, Mysteryof Eagle Rock. A Story of Ship and Shore. >

By Captain Mark Wilton.149 A SHADOWED LIFE ; or, The Web and

Woof of Love and Crime. By Harry Rock-wood. .

150 POOR LITTLE BERTIE ; or, Friends.Foes, and Fortune. How Detective BenHecker Foiled an Evil Scheme. By W. How-ard Van Orden.

151 A BROKEN BLADE; or, The Masked De-tective's Clew. By one of Pinkerton's De-tectives.

152 THE GOLOONDA GOLD MINE ; or AScheme for Millions. ' The Beet-Laid PlansAre Not Always Successful." By WeldonJ. Cobb.

153 ALMOST 1 A Story of a Great Murder Tri-al. A Woman's Faith Wins the Day. BvCharles J. Craig. " "y

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