Welsh Newspapers
Search 15 million Welsh newspaper articles
7 articles on this Page
Advertising
r » — — Kit ||■ 1. Y, 3. I TO THE LONGS iifilT M±%\ I) fe J r Throat. Ifc rani fjfff There's onlv one way for 5* /JYJws. Tih? '$^V' jj/j a remedy to reach the 6. Pa^s* to t;!e stomach. M throat and lungs direct, and Dotted //«« shew the iffI that is the Peps way. Peps are ^L^Zes'^uirrath^gr. jlil first divested of the silver-paper &' M wrapping in which they are sealed and preserved. A s they dissolve If;; pleasantly on the tongue, pure volatile pine-fumes mix with the air y. -fcijf 4e breathe, and are thus carried straight to the lungs.. M'S To pour common cough mixtures and emulsions down the gullet ]||j\ ft J into the stomach, in the hope of benefit to the throat and lungs is ffl| |;| utterly futile, for no particle of such liquid remedies can possibly ||| ||| pass the epiglottis, the little sentinel fold which closes like a lid ||| mil over the throat whenever anything is swallowed. ||| fcjf Only the volatile Peps fumes can find their way straight to the |wi throat and lungs, carrying the demulcent, invigorating, restoring, and jpjf expectorant virtues of the pure Peps pine-essences straight to the seat |p w|& of the mischief. No narcotics, irritants, or sedatives can be found in j^jki Peps, which are always good alike for young or old, weak or strong, jp '—————————— J% Loolc for this short ti P distinctive title on | <| t'A the box, and on I H&jy M Ilk Wf tablet bronchitis, sore substitutes. bronchi is, sore th,-cat. lnd o.her throat and lung troubles. PraiiM §w||| Of all cheml3ts at 1/1 £ and 2/9. naffi■■
- CHESTER, MOLD, DENBIGH.…
CHESTER, MOLD, DENBIGH. RUTHIN, AND CORWEH. OCTOBER, 1907, and until farther notice. liightnight a.m.| a.m., a.m., p.m. p.m. p.m. p.m. p.m p.m.: p.m. London (Euston).depart 12 012 0 5 15 8 3010 0!l2 10 12 251 30 >5 ZO Manchester a-™. a.m. a.m. 1 p.m. (Exchange) t. 6 45t 408 5,10 451 51 202 404 4 55 7 15- Itivproonl (Lubq Street).depart 7 25 8 3511 1012 351 40 4 05 5 7 15- Liverpool (Land- ing Stage).depart 6 0 7 30 8 0 9 011 401 20 2 40 4 3015 10 8 10 Birkenhead „ Liverpool (Land- Liverpool (Land- ing Stage).depart 6 0 7 30 8 0 9 011 401 20 2 40 4 3015 10 8 10 Birkenhead „ (Woodside) depart 0 15.7 45 8 15 9 15 11 551 35|2 55 3 154 45.5 25 8 30 p.m. Chester depart6 45;8 459 1510 2012 45 2 25-3 554 15|5 406 15 9 30 Mold arrive 7 20 9 89 55 10 571 25 3 lU 184 556 206 38 10 15 Mold depart 7 22 9 10 10 591 27 3 3!i 21 6 22 6 406 50 10 15 Caerwya arrive 7 43 9 29 11 181 46i3 28: 6 41 7 9 10 34 Bodfari „ 7 47 9 33 11 221 60^ 32; 6 45 7 13 10 38 Denbigh arrive 7 519 44 11 32 2 03 42,4 45 6 567 57 25 10 48 Denbigh aepart8 30 9 B52 tl 40 2 104 lo|i 55 7 6 7 298 10 Llanrhaiadr 8 37 9 59 il 472 17 4 I7J 7 36,8 17 t Rhewl „ 8 4210 4 11 52,2 22 4 22j 7 418 22 Kuthin » 8 4610 8 11 56|2 26 4 26(5 7 j 7 207 458 26 Eyarth „ 8 57 12 32 33 4 iL, 7 52 Nantclwyd ,,9 4 12 112 414 4 8 0 Derwen ,,9 8 12 16 2 46 4 46 8 5 Gwyddelwern 9 14 12 23 2 53 4 5i| 8 11 Corwen arrive |9 21 12 313 1 5 3i 8 20 B Runs every Monday and Fair Day. s Thursdays and Saturdays only. —-——————————.——————————————————————— ————————————————————— a.m. a.m. a.m.a.m. a.m. a.m.ip.m.;p.m. p.na.jp.m.jp.nri.ip.m p.m. p.m j Corwen depart 7 15 10 361 15 4 0 6 lOj Gwyddelwern.. 7 22 10 421 22 4 7 16 l'/j Derwen »» f 28 10 481 28 4 13 6 23 ttantclwyd »» 7 32 10 52 1 32 4 17 6 27 Eyarth I ? 88 10 581 38! 4 23 6 33 Knthin 7 43j 9 25 11 5|l 4&! 4 355 206 42,7 508 35 Rhewl » 7 48l 9 29 11 9,1 49! 4 39 5 27'.6 46,7 54 Llanrbaiadr 7 52! 9 33i 11 131 53 4 43 5 33,6 507 58 i Denbigh arrive 8 0! 9 41 11 21|2 3 4 515 44 6 688 6 8 47 Denbigh .depart 7 5*8 128 25 9 5l|ll 30|2 15 3 30 5 0 7 5 8 50 Bodfari 7 13 9 33 9 5911 382 233 385 8 7 13 8 58 Caerwya 7 19 I 8 39! 10 511 44 2 293 44 5 14 7 19 9 4 Mold arrive 7 418 39 g j, 10 27|l2m'62 51 4 6 5 36 7 41 9 26 Mold depart|7 48% 419 3| 10 2912 8j2 53 4 8 5 38 5 45 7 43 9 28 Chester arrive 8 22j9 4 9 42^ 2 12 45i3 22 4 45 6 0 6 218 20 10 5 ^(Woodside) arrive 9 6 9 4410 16 il 841 45 4 165 32 6 45 7 20 9 15 1115 LWdrpOOl (Land-1 ing Stage) arrive^ 2010 010 30. |11 50j2 04 30 5 507 0 7 409 30 1140 ^'(Lijne>Sreet) „ 9 6010 5 10 55 12 452 504 32 6 0 8 42 1157 Manchester ,n/> a.m. (Exchange) 9 H 20 12 53 3 8|5 1-6 27 8 810 5 3 35 London p.m. p.m. London p.m. p.m. (Eaaton) 1 40 i lOj 3 15 5 40|S 10|8 50jl0 45 3 qq I Caerwya when required. I cans at Caerwya when required.
RHYL, ST. ASAPH, AMD O ENBIGH.…
RHYL, ST. ASAPH, AMD O ENBIGH. | OCTOBER, 1907, and until further notice. a. in ft.ui.l u.ia.i a.m. p.m., p.to.i p-f p.m. p m. p.m. Denbigh depart6 308 59 63,11402 g|3 05 5 7 17 8 8 Irefnant „ 6 37 9 59jll 47 2 14 3 7 5 11 7 24 8 14 St Asaph „ 6 43 8 1810 511 53 2 20 3 13 5 17 7 30 8 20 Rhuddlan 6 503 2510 12(12 0 2 28 3 20 5 24 7 37 8 27 II 57M 2P'12 85'5 2'.Vq 32 7 44 3 35 P>EQ- Rhyl depart 7 359 10,10 551 17;3 0 4 236 107 40 1035 | Rhuddlan 7 42ii) 1711 3^ 2^,3 8 4 306 18 7 47 1044 III'' St Asaph j7 49,9 24j 11 101 313 154 37 6 25 7 .54 10 52 Trefnant. >> |7 5^9 30|ll 16 1 373 22 4 43 6 3018 0 11 n I Denbigh arrived 6:9 38|ll 24(1 453 28,4 516 39)3 81 n n
Advertising
I TILE AS, MOTHS, LICE, BUGS, BLACK BEETLES, and all insect speedily exterminated by using Cinao Ha no," the now inaecb killer. Sold in tins, price 3d., 6d., and Is., postage Id. Geo. VS. Harrison, Cheruisf, 11S, Broad Street, heading—Agents: DanhUh, J. Harrison Jones & Co., Chemists, Hi^lj Street Ruthió, Rouw & Son, Chemist?, St. Peter's Squaie St. Asaph, J. Emrya Jones Chemist. d22 J^EMMANT BUNDLES, Dauast Ta'olscloth Lengths, f.tr- carriago paid. Extraordinary bargains now. PUyS, DamaaJt J^ornn Dunfermline, Scotland. I- iBORwicirs DftunncD 'Esrll Wilt II VOILA PILLS SrJUE&SSS 7V, 1. per e- Indigestion, Dyspepsia ll.ts pill oj soothing poiver 4.. ,ti Tak-4—thcn rest one little hour.— Voild tK&t ilk para MSB REGAINED. VOILA Co.. Cardiff City
MY LADY OF THE RUINS.
[ALT, RIGHTS RSSERVED.j MY LADY OF THE RUINS. By TOM GALLON, Author of Tatterloy," "Dicky Monteith," Fato's Beggar Maid," Kiddy." A Rogue in Love," 4> The Charity Ghost," &c; CHAPTER I. THE FOOL'S REVEisGE. 'Ow much longer are yer goin' to keep this game up, guv'nor? The night was damp and chilly, and the little man who spoke flogged himself with an arm, and glanced half-timidly, half-reproach- fully at his companion. That companion was a thin, gaunt young man, with haggard face and wild eyes—eyes that never left the windows of a certain house that stood grim and grey against the evening sky. A good- looking man at some time or other-almost handsome, in fact, before the eyes had taken on that wild look, and before the hands had I learnt to tremble as they did now. He took no notice of the question asked by the little man lie went on muttering, half to himself and half to the other. She walked here yesterday for an hour- here in these gardens—just as she has walked before. It's holy ground, Jimmy, because her skirts have brushed it, and her feet have trod it. Did you see her, Jimmy? I've seed sich a lot, one way an' a- nuvver," retorted Jimmy, "so I suppose I ain't taken much notice of anyone in per- tikler. The question is, guv'nor, did she give yer anythinkr" The tall, shabby young man leant back in a corner of the seat, and laughed. Yes," he said, softly, she gave me a shilling. I suppose she thought I needed it—and in that she was right. A whole shilling, Jimmy, which meant bed and supper for us last night. She's an angel—and yet she goes into that house!" I He stretched out an arm fiercely, and shook his fist at the house. The gesture was I so fierce and threatening that the little man he had called Jimmy shrunk away from him u a little, and glanced at him fearfully. Pluck- ing up courage, lie touched the man on the arm and asked another question. "Look here, guv'nor, wot's the garnet Th ree days now since you first started drag- gin' me up to 'Igbgate, an' sittin' on this 'ere I seat in these 'ere grounds, an' watchin' that j 'ouse. Wot's the game?" The tall man turned slowly, and dropped a j hand on the shoulder of the other man, and spoke in a fierce whisper. Because there's a man in that house I'm going to kill, Jimmy. Don't jump like that, man, there's nothing so awful about it. I'm at the end of my life, and so we'll get out of the world together, or somewhere near together, that man and I. Hear me swear it, Jimmy—I, Giles Black- shaw, swear that I'll strangle him, as I would any loathsome animal that was in my way." After a moment Jimmy ventured another question. Wot's 'e done to you, guv'nor?" Eobbed me-ruined me—brought me to I this!" exclaimed the other, passionately, 1 spreading out his hands and surveying his shabby clothing and his broken boots. Dragged me down and down, until I find myself in your company, Jimmy Clegg, exist- ing on charity, and finding a precarious lodg- ing where I can. I've been following him for a'long time, Jimmy, hunting him down slowly, getting a bit of information here and a new clue there—and following the clues up, bit by bit. Now I've tracked him to this place, and I wa?it to get into that house. But I don't know how to do that. I dare not ask for him boldly, because he'd be off again. He knows my game, Jimmy, and he knows there's murder in my heart." "I wouldn't do it, guv'nor—I wouldn't, in- deed," urged the little man, glancing round about him in a frightened fashion. You don't mean it; I know yer don't. You've bin drinkin' a bit 'eavy lately, through trouble no doubt Yes, through trouble," said the other, with a shudder. "It's precious little a man can do when he's fallen as low as I have, ex- cept to drink; that drowns memories, Jimmy. So here I'll stop, until my chance comes of getting into that house, for I mean to do it to-night somehow, by hook or by crook." He sat there, gloomily staring at the place for quite a long time,- and Jimmy grew a little scared as he glanced now and then at the grim, determined, haggard face of the man. Jimmy got up at last, and mumbled that he would take a turn or two" and come back. Giles Blackshaw did not heed .him. and Jimmy av;y- The house at which the 'man gazed so in- tently was a somewhat ugly, old-fashioned place, standing in its own small grounds on the heights of Highgate. Before it, on the other side of the road, was the little public garden, with a seat or two in it, from which the man was watching. Presently, as he watched, the gate in the fence surrounding the garden of the house was opened, and two men came out. Blackshaw watched them as they crossed the road and entered the grounds in which he sat. He could see their figures dimly as they came towards him, and, having got to the path beside which he sat, begin to pace up and down slowly, arm-in- arm, talking in whispers. More than once he thought that they glanced at him; while he, for his part, having seen them come from that house, watched them with more than ordinary interest. One man was tall and thin and very dark; his black eyes seemed like lights set deep in his face. He walked witn a stoop, and with his hands clasped behind him, and from the few words Giles Blackshaw caught he seemed to have a high, rasping voice. His com- panion was a short, thick-set man of heavy build, and with an appearance of great strength; he lurched along beside the other with his arms hanging by his sides. One phrase at least Blackshaw caught as the two men walked past him. The first wastrel we can find will serve our purpose." It was the tall man who had spoken, and he seemed to glance at that particular wastrel on the seat. In a flash it occurred to Giles Blackshaw that these men might indirectly secure his admission to the house. His heart beat high with the hope of that when, after another turn or two, they stopped before him, with their backs to the house and the shorter man addressed him. "You don't look very prosperous, my friend." Prosperity and I parted company long since," retorted Blackshaw, looking at the man narrowly. What do you want with me? "We thought it might be possible you would care to earn a good sum of monev-t. very good sum of money, I may say—by doing about an hour's work," said the taller man, breaking in before his companion had time Easy work—and good pay." e^first wastrel vou chance to meet," quoted Blackshaw, with a half-smile. "Go further on and find another." ou„ i.lave sharp ears," retorted the r< Sa^ t^le first, and ,you are the vr.fi o ome> take the chance wllile it offers; y « wTVn&to stepacross the ro*d-" „ the work?" asked Bkickslf&w, g is eet and stretching himself, and pretending to yawn the better to conceal his growing excitement. "And what's the pay?" The work can be described to you later," replied the thick-se man, impatiently. "The pay is fifty pounds." "I'm your man at the price," soid Black shaw, with a laugh and noted the looks of satisfaction that flashed from one man to the other. Behold him, therefore, entering that house he had so longed to enter, being thrust al- most into its doors, as it were, by these two strangers. There was no fear nor doubt in his mind he had laid his plans too well, and had watched too carefully, not to be certain that the man whose life he sought was in this place. His own life was a thing that had gone by, and was done with; his hands itched for the throat of his enemy. He was taken into a room where one of the men switched on ths electric light, and where they both stood looking at him. The little powerful man had closed the door, and stood with his back set against it, its though to pre- vent the escape of this new prisoner. The tther man, after a half-disdainful look at Blackshaw, set a decanter on the table and some glasses. You look starved and cold," he said, in a low voice. "Come, drink; it'll warm you." The clutching hands of Giles Blackshaw were 011 the neck of the decanter, when he stopped, and looked round at the two men. "What sound was that?" he whispered. Hark There it is again Nothing—nothing at all," said the tall man, quickly, with a sharp nod to the other. You're broken down. You imagine things." The shorter man opened the door and hurried out into the darkened house. Giles Blackshaw, after a long look at the other man, half filled a glass with the spirit and drank it off. I could have sworn I heard someone moaning or crying," he said, in a half-frightened voice. What mystery is there in this place?" X 0 mystery at all," retorted the other. "Drink—and drink deep." In a moment or two the other man re- turned, coming into the room quickly and lialf-seeretly as it seemed, and nodding to his companion, as though to assure him that all was well. Giles noticed that his hand seemed to shake a little as he poured himself out some spirit, but his face was grim and hard set. Now, what work have I to do to earn this money?" asked Blackshaw, beginning to wonder how best he could get to know ex- actly in what room his enemy was to be found. "I am all impatient to begin. This stuff is warming; it puts new life into a man," he added, draining his glass, and stretching out his hand for the decanter. Let the work be light, I beg of you. I'm not so strong as I once was by any means; hunger and dissipation take it out of a man somewhat." Oh, the work shall be light enough, I promise you," said the taller man. It simply means that we want you to remain in this house for a little time, to take up your quarters here, just in case—in case we may need you." More mysteries exclaimed Giles Black- shaw, a little thickly. Nothing could suit me better," he added. "But first let me know who you are-the pair of you." "There can be no harm in telling him that," whispered the one man to the other; and the second man nodded. He'll be drunk enough in another ten minutes to have forgotten all about it." I hope so," exclaimed Giles Blackshaw, with a reckless laugh. "Very well, then. My name is Randal Farrer," said the tall man, and I am merely on a visit to this house a visit, per- haps of an hour or two." Well, you seem to make mighty free with the place, in spite of that," retorted Giles. "Who's your friend?' Mr. Martin Gale. We come here on a special mission, my friend. It may be your privilege to assist us. We come in search of a man, and we have him here-practically our prisoner. Sounds strange in London in this century, doesn't it?" he asked, with a grim laugh. "Not at all," replied Blackshaw. "If it comes to that," he went on, dropping, under the influence of the warming fluid in his veins, that caution with which he had started, I, too, come seeking a man, and I mean to find him. Shall I tell you his name? The three faces almost met across the table, as the three men stared into each other's eyes, for there was something about this wastrel that seemed to suggest he had stepped into a business which strangely con- cerned himself. "The name of the man I want is Dawson Varde," whispered Blackshaw at last, and he is in this house." The tall man drew back with almost a startled cry. The man who had been intro- duced as Martin Gale—that thick-set man who carried the indications of great strength about him-did not move. He it was who asked the first question. So you come to spy on us, do you? he asked, in a low tone. You've come to find Dawson Varde, have you? What do you want with him?" That's a matter to be explained to Varde himself," said Giles, with a cunning laugh. Let me meet him, and he'll know in a moment what I want." Martin Gale was about to speak again when the man who had called himself Randal a I Farrer put up a hand to stop him. "Our friend here may be of more use even than we anticipated," he said. He shall meet Daw- son Varder at once. But first we had better perhaps prime him for his work." ies; pernaps I need some courage," said Blackshaw, holding out his glass. Come, put the demon into me He had but a dim recollection afterwards of what occurred. Weakened by privation and excess, and many days and nights of wandering, his head was not proof against what he drank. The faces of the men who watched him seemed presently to swim before him. How much he told them he did not afterwards know, nor how much they told him. That he talked of his enemy was cer- tain. He remembered afterwards that he sprang up, and staggered towards the door, and cried out that he would find Dawson Varde at once. And at that, strangely enough, the two men laughed. They went down some stairs together, after traversing a long corridor, and so came into what appeared to be the basement of the house. Here it was dark, and they had to take his arms to guide him. He "had just turned round to expostulate with them for not finding 3, light, when a door seemed to open near him, and he was thrust in. Then the door was slammed and the key turned, and he was alone in the dark. He beat at the door, and cried out to them; begged that they would not play any trick upon him. But he heard no sound, and though he rattled the handle no one came. Then he groped his way round the room un- til his hands touched a couch, as it seemed. in the darkness. He dropped upon it and was asleep in a moment. There he must have slumbered for hours. He awoke, cold and cramped and stiff, to find a glimmer of light coming in from a high barred window near the ceiling; so faint a glimmer that it might have been, and pro- bably was, the reflection from a moonlit sky. He fumbled in his pockets, and with trem- bling fingers found a match, struck a feeble light with some difficulty, and looked about him. On the floor at his feet something glimmered, and he lowered the match to look at it. It was a long-bladed knife, and he dropped the match with a cry when he saw the weapon was stained awfully with what seemed to be blood. Something of the real danger and horror of his situation beat in upon his dazed brain I now, and he groped his way round the walls to the door again, and tried the handle, and called-but only in a whisper. He could re- member nothing distinctly; he had not yet had time to think. Madly he tore at his pockets, in the hunt for another match found one at last" nnd, with the utmost care, struck it and held it aloft and looked about him. Something dark lay in the corner of the room, huddif' up there. Shading the match with a shaking hand, he crept across the room and bent down nnd saw that a mail lay there, silent. Stooping, he brought the match near to the dead face, and looked at it; then sank upon his knees with a sobbing cry, and covered his face in the dankness. For the dead man with whom he was locked away in that room was the man whoso life he had sought—Dawson Varde. CHAPTER II. ce IIEAVEX PITY YOU It lock him a long time to wake fr,,)j,i what seemed at f.rst but a mere uneasv dre-tin-a nightmare. For Giles Blackshaw had to tell himself over and over again, in much thus same fashion that he might have impressed it upon someone else dull of understanding, that ht hud not done this thing; that his hands I wort; elestn of blood. The shock of his dis- covery had only partially awakened him, his brain -,vas still heavy, and would not work clearly. In the first instance, hv. went over -ve-its that had occurred within the past few dayp-— went back even further than that, in order to remember what grudge it was he had owed this dead man. That the man had wronged him was certain; but although Giles Blackshaw was led in this tlideout 10018 in the dark, with the dead man for company, he knew that he had not killed him. Yet he had meant to do that. He remem- bered now, as he stood frightened and panting in the corner of the room, that he had come to that house with that purpose in his mind —to kill Dawson Varde. That had been the purpose of months; a thing that had begun in a wild passion of revenge, and had ended- in this! He remembered the days of waiting out- side the house, his frantic anxiety to get into the house, and to do the work he had set out to accomplish. He remembered that lie had written a letter to Varde-a bitter, boastful thing, wherein he had declared his purpose. It had been an open threat to the man, written in a moment of-bitter rage, and with perhaps some glimmer of a feeling that he would treat the man fairfy. Where was that j letter now? Listening for every sound, and quaking with fear, he searched his clothing again for a match, but failed to find one. Groping round the wall, endeavouring to summon up courage to get to the body and to search it, his hand touched a small projection; he moved it mechanically, and in a moment the room was flooded with light. So flooded, indeed, that in a moment he moved the switch again, and plunged the place in darkness; for the body was horrible. It never occurred to him that if he had had his own way the body might have lain in just such a position, and the stain upon himself. He turned on the light once more, and crept towards that still figure in the corner; in- j sanely called to it in a shaking whisper, as though he felt he might have been cheated after all, and the thing be alive. Varde Dawson arde But there was no movement, and he went nearer. The knife had been plunged in from behind; it must have been driven hard, for as he glanced across the room at it he saw that it was red to the hilt. He turned the man over, and, averting his eyes from the dead face, slipped his hands into the pockets of the clothing, in search for his letter. But every pocket was empty, save one that had a little money in it, and another that held some keys. Giles Blackshaw sat on the floor be- side the thing, staring at it, and counting his chances. In the first place, there were those who could prove that he had threatened this man, and that he had a strong reason for the threat; there was even Jimmy Clegg, who had sat beside him as he watched the house. More than that, someone had that letter writte'n to Dawson Varde—a mad letter threatening the man with death; that could be used, and was sufficient to hang him of itself. More than all else, here was Giles Blackshaw, alone with the body, and with no possible means of prov- ing his innocence. Almost he began to feel that he might, after all, have illed the man himself. His life re- cently had been such a thing of dreams, waking and sleeping, that it might be possible he had got into this place somehow, and had achieved his purpose. He set about to fight out that part of the question, and to endea- vour to satisfy himself as to whether or not he was guilty. And that brought him natu- rally to the remembrance of the two strangers in the garden., and of that talk of the first wastrel they could find. So he had been the first wastrel—and this was a mere chance. In other words, someone had killed this man, and to shield themselves had thrust him into the net. Yet what if they 'knew? What if, in some way, they had known who he was, and what was his purpose in coming there, and for that reason had trapped him? The very thought of that stirred his blood, and roused in him the de- sire to fight for his liberty. For the injustice of the thing was apparent. 1 He tried the door again, but it would not yield to his shaking; although he flung all his weight against it, it would not be moved. Then, in the silence of the room, he raised his voice and shouted, but there was no response. He grew less afraict of that silent shape in the corner as time wore on; he found cour- age to go and stand near it, and look down at it—even to speak to it. Some memory of the wrong he had suffered at the hands of Daw- son Varde came over him as he looked down at the dead man. 1 am not know the world so well as you did, Varde," he said, in a whisper. I was young, I with all the world before me; you caught me early, and you found me soft. You sucked and squeezed me, till you could get nothing more from me; then, when }'ou thought me obstinate, you went to my father-poor, doting old man who had believed in me—and told him all about me with a little added, to give a flavour to it. You lied to him, as you had lied to me; and when he had turned in horror and kicked me out of doors, you came and jeered at me. I haven't I forgotten that. You saw me go down and down—lower and lower. I came to you, and begged for food and shelter—you that had had every penny I possessed-and you laughed I at me, and turned me away. You dog! I wonder who it is that you have driven far enough on that road you taught me to tread I that you have roused in him the strength to striike this blow, and kill you? He tried the door again; paced about the place like a caged animal, wondering wildly what he should do, or how he should get out of this trap. The thought occurred to him that he would rouse the house in some fashion —call in outside help, and declare frankly and truthfully what had happened. Yet the remembrance of the letter he had written, and of the fashion in which he had threatened this man, held him silent, and shewed him the hopelessness of such a course. He resolved at last to force his way out of the room, and out of the house if possible. He had a grim feeling of satisfaction in the thought that, at any rate, Dawson Varde had met his end, and that end a violent one. Looking about for something with which to attack the door, he saw the heavy blood- stained knife at his feet; stooped, and picked it up gingerly. It was a powerful weapon, and might serve his purpose. He had reached the door, and was wonder- ing how best to set about his task, when he heard, far off in the silent houae, as it seemed, the sound of footsteps. In the second or two during which be stood there listening the footsteps came rapidly nearer. He drew away from the door, and looked about him quickly, striving to make up his mind what to do. On an impulse, he flicked out the electric light, stepped cautiously across the room, and crouched down against the wall be- hind the head of the old-fashioned sofa upon which he had so recently slept. There, with the knife in his grasp, he waited, determined that now would be his time to escape. The footsteps paused outside the door, and he could hear the breathing of someone close against it He gathered himself for a spring, and waited heard the key turned softly in the lock, and rapidly decided he would let his visitor come into the room before he made any attempt to dash for the door. It might be possible, he thought, to slam the door upon the man, and turn the kev, and so lftave that man in the same awful position this wastrel had himself occupied. He wondered, even while the key was turning in the lock, if they could hear outside that door the beat- ing of his heart as loudly as he heard it him- self. The door was opening now, and someone was gliding in. Whoever it was came softly and cautiously. Giles Blackshaw did not move, because it might happen in the dark- ness that he might undo whatever chances of escape were open to him. There was a sharp click, and in a moment the room was full of light. Giles Blackshaw. crouching in his corner, saw with amazement that the visitor was a woman—quite a young girl, fn fact. More than that., lie recognised here that angal of compassion who had dropped a shilling into a certain poor was- •rel's hand the day before, and so had provided that wastrel and Jimmy Clegg with supper and a lodging. She seemed to know of the awful thing fn that room; yet not only did she fail to dis- t cover Giles, but she did not seem to expect to find him. Leaning against the wall, almost in the eititude of one who but for that sup- port must, have fallen, she looked across at the huddled heap in the corner, and■> spoke straight to it, in a curious sort of strained whisper. Heaven forgive yon, Dawson Varde ? Heaven be merciful to you! And H3aven pity the man who killed you For a moment or two she stood leani n g agai-not the MLO-IJ sea* the 4-post fbadderiog borribl/t anci weeping, as it seemed, with her arm covering her face; and in those moments Giles Blackshaw did not move. Then, at some sound in the house, she suddenly turned out the light and was gene the door was shut noiselessly, and the key turned. Giles came fully to his senses too late; the footsteps had died away in the house before he could get to the door, stumbling as he did in the dark- ness. Strangely enough, he seemed to see some ray of hope for himself in the coming of this girl. Surely she would understand what had happened—surely she would take pity on him? Putting on the light again, he began Z, to work frantically to cut away the lock, stab- bing the heavy knife into the woodwork, and muttering incoherent things-chiefly to her- while he worked. It took a long time to hack away the wood- work round the lock, and he had to work cautiously for fear the noise should be heard. But at last it was done he seized the lock and wrenched it free, and the door fell bacik on its hinges. He extinguished the light, and pulled the door close after him, and went out; only, at the last moment, remem- bering that he carried that awful weapon, he crept back and tossed it into the room, and came away. He groped his way along a corridor, and found his feet stumbling upon a short flight of steps; at the top of these he came upon another corridor, also in darkness, save for a light that shone faintly under a door at the end of it. Towards that door he cautiously made his way, although, as a matter of fact, freedom lay for him in the other direction. He felt he wanted to see the girl again, if only for a moment. As he reached the door he heard again, within the room, as it seemed, that moaning he had heard when first he had been brought to the house, only now it sounded more dis- tinctly. With the reckless intention to pene- trate, if possible, the secrets of this place, he li,id his hand upon the door to open it, and possibly made more noise than he intended. At all events, there was a sudden movement in the room, and as he flung open the door he was confronted by the girl herself. Be- yond her he saw nothing. But as she saw him standing there so Strangely in the full light which came from behind her, she emitted a piercing scream, As that sound pierced the house, another door behind Giles Blackshaw was flung open and, realising that his chance of escape was rapidly dwindling, he swung round, and raced down the corridor. A man who stood there stepped half hestitatingly asido; Giles raced on, and even as the man cried out gained the outer door, and from that the outer air- He thought he heard shouts behind him as he ran, T>ut "he crossed the gar'ien with fright^n^d leaps, and got to the outer gate into .ha road; and did not cease to run until he had put a great distance betwelfc the house and himself. (To be continued.)
CHiLDREM'S COUGHS
CHiLDREM'S COUGHS Relieved at once by VENO'S LIGHTNING COUGH CURE. Nothing could be safer, surer, and speedier than Vetio a Lightning Cough Cure. Mr. ^flenry J. Rolls, of The Grove LodRe, Ma!pas, Newport, Mori., writes I must tell you what a great blessing your Cuugh Cure has been to our little boy. He suffered for years witn bronchitis and a chronic coujjh, and I tnea endless cough syrups, embrocations, and doctor's medicines in vaiu. At lu.sb I tried your great, remedy and noticed an improvement after two clones only, and one large ootcle effected a radical cure. I in.ty mention that it also cured him of a bid whooping cough, and I am of the opinion that Veco's Lightning Cough Cure saved my boy's life." Veno's Lightning Cough Cure is the purest, safest, and mo-st reliable remedy oxfcanb for ard colAs,-brotict-iitis, asthm i, catarrh, sore throat, hoarseness, old-age coughs, chil- dren's coughs, and all chest and lung Troubles, Price 91d" liLt, and 2/9, of all chemists and drug scores everywhere.
Advertising
Soutli Africa Rnynl MiH Route. Union Castle Line. LONDON AND SOUTHAMPTON To Cape Colony. Natal, Delagoa Bay, Beira, &c., Calling Frequently ax:—Madeira, LFts Teneriffe, Ascension, and St. Helena. Weekly ¡;.iling¡¡. {:Ht passages, superior accommodation, best rout-e. For rates of Passage Money and all further Information apply to the Managers—Donal.l Curria & Ca., London or to Lcoal Agents. t 8 To*-IOTHE:ts.-Mrs Winslow's Soothing Syrup has been nseii over fifty years by milJiolw of motbflrs IN their cnildreu while fcfiething, with perfect R\1CC,,03. It will rbliovc the poor sufferer immediately. It is pleasant to tasto it produces natural quiet sleep, by re lit vine tto ihild from pain, and the little cherub wakes as bright PA a button." Of all Chemists ut 18. lid. per bottla. SPARE-TIME Agent, each district, to devote few hours weekly taking orders; large profits easily made out- side regular employment. Write for trariii ■ ti>rms and particulars, Mead Cycle Co.,Agency Dept. £ 6.ix.Liverpool HHim purposes. RiS^StakeK.'Wir6 and Fittings, and Itoofing. large buyer will s» ve money bjjf having List or Special '.Quotation. -A -twoofl F.cevo. jJcpt. C, Stony Stratford '1 ASTON'S CLEARANCE SALE It OCTOBER 8th. IMMENSE STOCKS OF FURNITURE, IRONMONGERY, CARPETS, DRAPERY, PICTURES, CHINA, GLASS, &c. SEND FOR SALE CIRCULAR. GOD S DELIVERED FREE, AMY DISIMCt. GREAT REDUCTIONS IN ALL DEPARTMENTS. Reduction on Every Article of 15 to 50 per cent. 26, Vale Street, DENBIGH GOOD ADVlCI 1^7 Anyone thinking of purchasing a machine should eet a caLaloei* of the Uumber."—Stafford Chroniclt. For Town or Country. JSfflHUMBER CYCLES,* /Ml Built by the King's Cycle Makers. 1 /K M] Prices from £ £ S 0 or 9/- per month. M 1 Call and åalpect the latest models; catalogue free. M GH•• w. Btiller, Portland Place CEFN. xy ^^p„UABPNo: J- a Breese- CONNAH'S QUAY:| #COPPHC1E Bros. & Co. HOLYWELL; Morris, WT High Street. LLANSANNAN: M. Jt H. Jones; High Street. LLANSANNAN: M. & H. Jones; X>- Roberts, Tj Corserth. M0CHDRE 8. Town- send, Mochdre Cycle Works. PENTREV0ELAS- Williams & Son. PENTBE HALKYN B. L. Davies. JII Bf XCeilis Browne"s nor TheORIGINALand ONLY GENUINE. mm The Best Remedy known for IBM Betti Admitted by the Profession WS iinilflnn fifl! no ^-ost Valuable a llUUhnUi UuLUUi H Bemedy ever discovered. ■ 01OTUUA DDAUPUITIC Effectually cuts short all H ■ Ao I rimA, Dltunufll I ID, KftgW attacks of SPASMS. B ■k f*/)MGIIMi)Tinil The only Palliative in Bill M CHOLERA and Overwhelming Medical Testi- DYSENTERY* HHHHIH mocy accompanies each bottle. SOLD IN BOTTLES BY All. CHEMISTS, at 1/11. t/e, and 4,/8 Moha