Llais Llafur

The Caravan of Mystery. By ROY NORTON. Author of "The Plunderers," "The Vanishing Fleets, etc. Follow the fortunes of this pilgrim—an American down on his luck, picked up on a park bench by an employer of infinite surprises—follow him across the Atlantic, through the gipsy camps of Europe, among the Apaches of Paris, hob- nobbing with titled folks and famous musicians, doing unquestionly the bidding of his curious employer, searching for something that is not reveaJed till the amazing climax of the story-follow the pilgrim and his unique journey and we have no doubt you will regard this tale ae the strangest and most fascinating you h&ve ever read. (Continued). I CHAPTER XXIV. It waa fortunate that I yielded to temptation on that afternoon when, eager to hear her sing onoe more, I visited the Villa Averne with mademoiselle. The professor had hurriedly departed early in ttia manning after telling me that he thought he had learned the whereabouts of A man who had been a confederate of Kettle Drum's. Information that was not exhilarating, considering that I had not the slightest interest in the notorious sooundrel. Laurent, whom the professor had not observed as being near, had lift- ed his dejected head with a vast show of relief, in the assurance that he would be freed from practice that day. Prosper had been too busy with his books to pay emctt heed, and I had been filled with joy. And so, that afternoon, I was again with Marie. "That one event I have missed, friend," I aaid, lazily braiding four long blades of etraw as I leaned against the bowlder on which she, like a goddess of the hill, wair seated, "is your singing. I shall re- gret not having heard you." "And why can't you Y" she retorted, plows-ed, and smiling down upon ma. I've oetced you to come down .to the villa often enough, haven't I?" "But you know why I couldn't. I didn't want your friends to see me there as your guast, then, perhaps an hour or sor later, to discover me gallivanting along a tight rope with my feet in a cheese bOx r" She slipped 4rom her perch to the ground, exposing her dainty ankles as she dropped, and confronted me. "But you have just said that you are figrough with that work," she declared. "And from what you say of the coconut business, I fancy the professor v. ill not inflict punishment on that poor Laurent for the remainder of this week. Do come orr dcrwn to the villa. Besides, there may be no one there this afternoon. I want you to hear me sing. I've some new songs you will like. Do come!" I pondered over it for a while, and the old adage of the man who hesitates being lost proved true; for down the hill we went, she gayly, I expectantly, and for the first time I entered the Villa Averne. fte interior did not belie its sta.id old front. Sweeping halls, high ceilings, fine tikd floors, carven woodwork, all told the tale of haughty noblemen who had de- limited in this country home. The music room would have stimulated the soul of an artist, and in the very centre of it fitood a splendid grand piano. On its top waa a litter of her music, and from thesu she selected the songs she would sing. In such surroundings, given a young møa deeply and hopelessly in love, and w-ghwmiing singer whose soul pours forth from her music, and time does not drag. It md:pa away unheeded, even a., ng, nonged, slips- through the opened win- dows and out on the summer air. I had firmly (resolved to remain but a short tMM, but an hour passed before I remem- the resolution, and then it -was too I Through the long windows there en- tered from the terrace the hostess of •nadgpKJiiaelte, With her mother and a I arose with a sense of embar- rassment, but Marie appeared entirely ttalf-poseessed, even delighted, as she in- troduced me. Madame d'Averne was more than kind; she invited me to ac- ny tham on the following day to M, oc?a?x, an excursion that she had had promised Marie, and I assented, with the provision that if I were unable to come I would send a note of apology be- fore luncheon. We were to start at two orotic m the afternoon. Laurent was conspicuously present at the camp all evening, and I was not par. tfcularly pleased, for I had hoped to pass the time with the professor and Parfait; but the professor did not return either, so I vrao driven to loitering around the oaravan. and reading an old, scrap of a novel that I had already waded through belara I waited impatiently for the professor to return the next morning, but his un- aooountajble absence continued. Finally, deciding that he would scarcely want me if be did come back, and that he could not expect me to remain constantly in the camp during his absence, I climbed the old causeway of the castle, across its dead moat and walls, an d took the quick- est path to the Villa Averne. Out in the lane, as if watching for me, I saw Marie's girl friend, and at sight -of me she came running rapidly up the path. A chill, foreboding, a prescience of calamity, invaded me as I hastened rny oateps. Why had not Marie come to meet me? What was there in the girlish figure, discernible even at that distance between us, that indicated distress ? I saw, as we caime close to each other, that «he was crying, and quickened my own pace to a run. t.Maoomoiselle Celeste! What is it?" I nailed, and she stopped and put her Jrondkerchief to her eyes. nSozrae thing has happened to Marie!" she exclaimed tremulously, anxious to im- part her news. "We can't find her and didn't know how to reach you. She has ggniai" I asked dully, the magnitude of such a disaster rendering me momentarily dumb. ''W e have no idea. Sometimes she sleeps late, so this monúng we did not disturb her. It was almost eleven o'clock when mother decided it best to arouse her, a.nd sent me to Marie's room. I tapped on the door, and when she did not answer I opened it. She was not there. Every- thing v. <1. in order, as if she had arisen early and the maid had tidied her cham- ber. I laughed at mother's sending me upstairs and stopped to admire some of Marie's toilet articles, then went down- stairs again. I rang for the maid, and w hen she came asked her if she knew where Marie had gone; but the maid was astonished. She thought Marie still asleep. Then I became anxious. 'But you made her bed and put fresh water in the carafe,' I said, and the maid answered 'Not to-day mademoiselle. I have not entered her room since yesterday.' Where on earth can she be?'' She was in tears again, almost helpless- ly so. I could not understand it any more than she. But," questioned I, trying to be calm in this emergency, "did she mention going anywhere last night! Was she home dur- ing the evening ?" "All the evening, and was playing the piano when I Wofut to bed. Mother had gone an hour eairlier. I asked Marie when she was going, and she walked over to the doorway and said. sho wished she could take a walk, but that it was too late. I was sleepy and said so. She laughed and told me to go to sleep im- mediately that she would Slit up a while longer, and would lock the windows opening on the terrace before she came. So I kissed her a goodnight and went. I heard her playing the piano softly, as if she didn't want to disturb me, and went to sleep." '"But did you hear nothing more?" I asked, perplexed by the lack of the unto- ward in this oommonplace story of home life. "Yes," she said slowly, after a time, "I either dreamed that I heard some one whistle softly outside or else it happened. I can't be certain." "And w re the windows open this morning?" I asked, striving for details. "That is one thing that terrifies us most," declared Celeste. "They wore open all night. We asked the maid about it when we learned that Alarie had not slept in her bed, and the maid said 'yes,' and that she wondered who could have been astiir before she opened the music- room doors, but thought nothing more of it, because sometimes some of us are up very early and throw them open for air." Together we hurried on to the villa, where we found Madame d' A verne-in a state bordering collapse. "Does not monsieur think we should immediately notify the police ?" madame asked, wringing her white old hands. Or is it better that we give an a-larni and have aeacrh parties organised?" To tell the truth, I felt almost as hope. 1 less as thav did. I was considering both these measures when we heard steps on the terrace, and a nuan in the uniform of the state telegraph service appeared with cap in hand and opening his leather dis- patch bag. He handed Madame d'Averne a message which she tore' open with trem- bling fingers, and then, failing to find her glasses, handed to Celeste to read. The iatter s face lightened and she laughed aloud. "Read it to mother," she said, passing the message to me and signing the mes- senger's receipt. I did. "Had surprising opportunity to take automobile ride with old friend and his wife for hour. Car broke down here. Be home to-morrow or next day. Don't worry.—Marie." The message was dated from Onzain, a place on the opposite bank of the Loire some forty kilometers distant. I read it over again, and had to admit that an invitation for a motor ride, there in Bourre, at ten o'clock at night, must be in the nature of a surprise. And the more I thought of it, with ideas and appre- hension tearing through my head as I stood there, the more alarmed I became. In any event there was nothing to re gained by voicing my anxieties to madam a.nd her daughter, each of whom accepted the message with all the credulity of the innocent who lead secluded ways and won- detr at the daring of a young lady who had travelled so far as America and been connected with the operatic stage. I made devoirs as speedily as possible and hurried back to the square, where tho merrymaking was still at its height. Laiirent was sleeping beneath his wagon, and I did not disturb him. I passed irectly to the improvised sch ool and, with the freedom of the caravans, inter- rupted. I called Prosper out to one side and away from sight of the other scholars and their tutor. I knelt on the grass in front of him aa he turned his astonished face to me, and said "Prosper, old chap, I want you to think hard, and tell me if I you told any one about the lady you met I that time you and I went over the hill. Two week s ago, about, it was." He thought for a moment, and then sard "Why, yes, mo'sieur, I did tell Francois about the wonderful lady, and he was Very much interested, was Fran- cois. He said she must be very beautiful. Also that I should not have mentioned it ,and must not let you know that I had. Because, said Francois, gentlemen must not discuss ladies to others. I was quite ashamed, m'sieur I am very sorry. I did not know, aiid-and You are angry with me!" His eyes filled with tears at something he saw in my faoe, I lifted him up and assumed a different air. "No, little man, I am not," I reassured him. "Only—well, you see, you and I have many secrets. Do not tell any one that I came and asked you this. Not even Francois: You won't wilL you ?" He gave me his promise, and I sent him back to his bench beneath the trees. I now had but one line of research to convince myself whether Laurent had any connection with Perard in this mat- ter, and that was through the telegraph. I hastened through the crowded street in that direction, and in a moment more should have turn-ed a corner, when a hand arrested me. It was the professor. "Whither so fast? What has hap- pened ?" he demanded, and eager to have his sage advice and keen wit at my com- mand, I fairly dragged him into a. hall- way and told him all. It was somewhat in the nature of a confession. I had no apolo- gies tâ make for seeing so much of made- moiselle, and in my distress told him so. He nodded his wise old head as if troubled, yet comprehending. "Poor Carter! Poor Carter!" he said. "You do love the gril, I know. And are worried over her disappearance. Well, let's be perfectly calm now, and get to the bottom of this affair. Here Suppose we go to a place I knov, a few doors farther along here, where we can talk without fear of interruption. It never pays to do anything, save catching trains and stoning snakes, in haste." He led me to a cafe where there was a tiny cabinet, in which he seated him- self and ordered vermuth. He laid his hat on the table and said "Now, tell me what you surmise and what you propose to do. Go slowly. Be steady." Almost with an air of indifference, much to my annoyance, he leaned back against the wall and looked thoughtfully upward as I obeyed. I did calm myself. I realised that I must h!.ve given him a very garbled account of my speculations. He interrupted me now and then with a shrewd question, and at last, w hen I had said all I had to say, continued for a full three or four minutes to stare upward and. drum on the table with his sun- tanned hands. "I'm not sure but that you are right," he said, "about going to the telegraph office. Perhaps you had best leave that to me. I'm not quite so interested in it; my affections and fears are not so in- volved. I am cooler and more resource- ful, just now, than you. Come on Never was there a more oareless-appear- ing man than the professor when he strolled into the post office. He even paused to look at a poster on the wall, and to hum a little tune. He waited for the elderly dame, who was alone in the office, to ask him twice what he wanted. "Oh, I beg pardon!" he exclaimed, whirling and facing her. "I am Monsieur Laurent, as perhaps you know." She did not; but, overcome by his frank smile, admittecti, that she had sent and received messages including the name. "Doubtless," said the professor. "I have sent many by one of my men. And that is where the trouble comes in. I told him to keep copies, and he has failed to do so. I am at a loss as to exactly what I have said." She could not resist his smile. "That is easily remedied, Monsieur Laurent," she said, "although it is against the rules." "That is why I hesitated to ask you so great a favour," he responded, with great gallantry. "But the republic of France will not suffer by your breach, and I shall be many thousand times under obli- gations." He doffed his battered old hat, put a hand on his heart, and bowed with such an exaggerated air of courtesy that she laughed openly at him, and turned to her files. "They would all be within—say—ten days, Monsieur Laurent ?" she inquired over her shoulder. From his coat he drew the very copy I had given him of that first and only message of which we knew, and consulted the date. "Within the last fifteen davs." he cor- rected. Fortunately for us, the business of the village with the outside world was small and the messages for more than the stipulated time were still on a spindle which she unloaded as she searched. One after another she handed us four, all addressed to Perard, in Paris. The first one convinced us that Laurent had wired his friend, con federate, employer or what- ever status Perard might have, from Or- leans, and perhaps rllois, for it read I returned here to-day. De B. arrives to-morrow. Dangerously close on trail. Advise haste. I could rot understand this, but the professor evidently did, for I saw his lips tighten perpeetibly as he handed it to me to copy, and read the next "De B. arrived. Gone seek another man of whom heafd. M.D. here and with C. daily. Letter. The professor found time to cast a side- wise glance at me and grin at this evi- dence that my personal actions also were under surveillance, and that Laurent re- ported on love affairs as well as what- ever other nefarious schemes he had on hand. I had feared that such was the case, but here was the proof. The next message was in my hands before I had made a rough copy of the second. "Letter received and understood. De B. announces will go Angouleme to-mor- morrow. H. and P. arrived this morn- ing. All ready." I studied over that latter clause for quite a little time, and saw that the pro- fe-swr also was mystified by it. Then it came to me. Hercules and Pierre. The Apaches from Paris. But ready for'what? The fourth message contained a mere announoe-ment that the Angouleme move had been postpened, and urging haste; but that was not all. It was addressed to Perard at Tours in care of a private ad- dress. I was instantly distressed by the knowledge that Perard was so close, but the professor calmly cozoned the tele- graph operator for further information. He pretendtd that one of these messages he had sent and forgotten must have con- flicted with one he had received, and in- duced her to let him read copies of the latter on the ground that he had left his own. copies in his luggage. Most of them as they came from the spindle, were mere acknowledgments, but the very last one lashed us like a whip "Qtilt De B. and remain behind if he starts. Continue with him regard- less of what he asks you to do, if he stays Montrichard. Other three have instructions, and will act Wednesday night. Remember treat her decently. No unnecessary violence. Caution others. (To be continued).