Beadle's New York Dime Library (no. 1052) (1901 09)
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) a AW *VOVNRA AREA ee) Copyrieut, 1880, py Braptz & ADAMS, Ma 1052, Pere The Duke of Diamonds; THE FLOWER OF CALCUTTA, A Story of Strange Lands and Seas. Published Every Month. BY CAPT. FRED’K WHITTAKER, AUTHOR ov “THE RED RAJAH,” “‘ THE IRISH CAPTALY,” “THE LOST CAPTAIN,” ETC CHAPTER I. 1857. Tux sun of India blazes above the brown jun- gle. The tiger crouches in the long surput grass; the buffalo hides in the pools and the elephant has retired to the thicket shade; but the city of Krishnapoor is all astir, like a hive of bees. Pale, stern faces of English soldiers, exulting glances of Sikhs, and stolid indifference of MM. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers, (JAMES SULLIVAN, Proprietor), 379 Pearl Street, New York. ENTERED as SEconp Crass MatrEr AT THE New York, N. Y., Post OFFics. 10 Cents a Copy. Vol. LK, $1.00 a Year. Ghoorkhas, show that mercy for a Hindoo is a thing unknown to-day. The rebellion has fail- ed; woe to the conquered! In the square of the market-place of Krishna- r stands a brass nine-pounder, polished till | it gleams like burnished gold. Neat and plain, handsome and serviceable, it braves criticism, a dandified death-dealer, a very Nero of guns. The house-tops are crowded with people; a dense mass of humanity blocks up every avonue out of the square, All eyes are fixed on the soli- tary gun and its neat detachment of English ar- tillerymen, two by the muzzle, two by the trun- nions, twu by the train. The orderly bugle sounds a clear shrill note from a great white building at the side of the square, and all eyes turn thither. Forth from the portals of this building comes a strange procession. In front a guard. of swarthy Sikhs, dismounted, carrying razor-like tulwars sloping over their shoulders. Then two English soldiers with fixed bayonets, a pris- oner between them; then more Sikhs, followed by a large staff of English officers, who mount at the foot of the steps and ride out into the Se ee “ =~ == << = Sea j oy * ¥ me ‘ 2 y ' a: square, following a tall, heavy-built man, in diplomatic uniform, whom all recognize as “the Resident.” But it is not on him that the eyes of the popu- lace are fixed. Itis the prisoner who attracts their attention; and a low wail of grief goes u from thousands of throats as they see him au he is vance. A handsome man anywhere meee magnificent now. Prisoner though e be, he looks as if he were lord of all around him. He was so only a few days ago, for this is none other than the Rajah of Krishnapoor. Prisoner ox not, he is attired in robes of vel- | vet, heavy with gold embroidery and sowe | with seed pearls, while the flash of jewels from | his collar, the braceists on his bare, muscular | arms, the clasp of britliants that supports the | feather of his turban, would turn a Fifth ave- nue belle green with envy. As proudly as if going to review his own | troops, the deposed Rajah stalks into the midst | of the silent square, straight up to the gun that has been standing idle so long, and takes his post be.ure its muzzle, WOOL LEEEGE Wh T Ete 7 “You OUR, M¥ SEORET IS SAFE WITH EFFIE, AND THE CHILD, AND YOU ARE CHEATED, DOG, COWARD, LIAR; THAT IS MY ANSWER!” .
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2 Meantime the Resident holds up his hand to command silence, and an officer reads out the sentence of the Viceroy at Calcutta, that ‘‘the Rajah of Krishnapoor, for high crimes and mis- demeanors, be deposed from his kingdom and blown from the cannon’s mouth in the public uare of Krishnapoor.” he doomed Bx me smiles bitterly as he hears the pe r read, first in Hindoostanee, then in English, and still more bitterly curls his lip when the Resident asks in Hindoostanee: ‘* Prisoner, have you any cause to show why this sentence should not be executed at once?’ The Rajah laughs aloud as if in scorn as he answers, in good English, but strained and pe- dantic: ‘Does my former secretary imagine that the Rajah of Krishnapoor will condescend to ad- dress epithets of appreciation or requests for the exercise of clemency to a person whom he has raised from a beggar’s position? I am here. Had you not deceived me by pretended friendship you would never have entered m capital while a man was alive to defend it. You have belied me to the viceroy, for the sake of my wealth; but I have taken precautions, and all you will have is the worth of my gar- ments, 1am happy to give you the hangman's fee, my excellent friend,” Then turning fiercely on the English artillery- men, he cried; “foad the gun! Will you keep me waiting all day?” The Resident is ghastly pale while the prisoner speaks; but a covert smile is on the face of more than one staff officer as they hear the Hin- doo prince, in his labored English, revile his executioner. The Resident makes a silent sig- nal to the corporal of the gun, who immediate- ly gives the word in a subdued tone, unlike the usual hoarse shout of a British non-commission- ed officer: - * Load with powder! Loan!” Instantly the six statues round the nine- pounder start into vigorous life, rushing at the gun like madmen, brandishing rammers, run- ning to and from the limber, till the flannel wder-bag is in its place ‘behind a heavy oublé wad, and the men back in their old sta- tions. Then the corporal and sergeant, looking very pale, advance to the Rajah, who has drawn out a magnificent jeweled watch and is consulting it with apparent interest. Tee remarks with the greatest suavity: “Sergeant, lam glad to see you. Iam glad they put you here, for you will do your dut properly. Please do not hurt me with the cords more than necessary, and accept this watch as a trifle from me.” The sergeant grows paler than ever as he takes the watch and mutters with dry lips: ‘God help your honor to glory!” _ The Rajah turns to the corporal, still smil- ing. a My friend, your detachment is not as quick as it should be. I have seen the artillerymen of my guard load in three seconds less time than you took. But then they had a Yankee for captain, and I am told that the Yankees can always t you Englishmen. Is that—” ‘Fre HIM UP!” interrupts the voice of the Resident, in a perfect shout. His face, lately 80 pale, is now purple with anger. “ Tiehim up and blow him to pieces, the black traitor !” There is a sort of shudder among the officers, as he speaks. They are not unused to these hor- rible executions, but there seems to be some- thing about this which shocks even men who have followed the bloody track of Outram. More than one scowls openly at the Resident, who affects not to see it, and continues: “Do your duty, sergeant, and turn in that watch bo my head-clerk, after the execution. You understand?” : The Irish sergeant salutes stiffly, with a mut- tered: ‘* Yes, sir.” As for the Rajah, he only laughs, as careless- ly as ever, as the two non-commissioned offi- cers, not urgently, lead him to the muzzle of the piece and place him with his back against it, while they attach his arms, with long cords, to the cheeks of the gun-carriage. © aie ag The hight of man and gun, the position in which he is secured,‘cause him to stand nearly erect, inclining a little back, his face turned di- rectly to the Resident. The time has come, and even the stolid artil- lery-men compress their lips in expectation of the terrible drama to be enacted, Only the doomed prince, of all the assemblage, looks as calm as if he were witnessing a eee Then the Resident dismounts close to him and motions back the gun-detachment. The bystanders retire out of hearing, and the Resi- dent says, in low, burried tones: “« Reflect, I can save you, now. Tell me the secret, and I will see your sentence commuted.” The Rajah laughs aloud. “Why, youare a greater fool than T thought, ‘You cur, my secret is safe with Effie and the child, and; you are cheated. Dog, coward, liar; ag? The Duke of Diamonds. It is the last wild defiance of impotence againstinjustice, and even the Resident feels the | insult through all his armor of greed. He starts back and raises his hand as if to strike, but desists in very shame before an au- dible hiss from the officers. Then he motions forward the gun-party, and steps aside, watching tite doomed prince with | malignant satisfaction. The corporal takes the linstock in hand, trem- bling like a leaf, and all fall back behind the | axle of the carriage. The Rajah looks proudly before him, and cries aloud, in English: ‘Soldiers, your chief is a cowardly assassin and thief, who—” ‘* Fire !” almost shrieks the Resident. _ The corporal lowers the port-fire on the prim- ing. And then— The Bishop of Calcutta enlarged his diocese that year by sending a new miss onary to Krishnapoor to convert the Pagan Hindoos to the religion of love and forgiveness. CHAPTER II. 187 Bricut shines the sun over the sparkling waves of the Arabian Sea, through which the stanch ship Benares, of the P. & O. 8, 8. Co’s line* is plowing her steady, old-fashioned way. The Benares plied from Bombay to Suez when first the P. & O. 8. 8. Co. had a local habitation and a name, and she continues her voyage up the Mediterranean ever since M, de Lesseps has opened a way for her through the isthmus. Under the striped-awning of the quarter-deck, scattered about on camp-chairs, with abun- dance of fans, are the passengers, a few ladies returning from India, with a number of fur- loughed officers and one or two civilians, Quite a large group of men, with two of the ship’s officers, are gathered in an admiring cir- cle around two ladies in the coolest part of the quarter-deck. The ladies are Anglo-Indians; one can see that at a glance. There isa lan- guidly insolent air about them that only be- longs to the Englishwoman in India, with her fifty black servants, more or less. The nearest approach to this peculiar airof which a are capable might have been seen in a rich New Orleans Creole, thirty years ago, under the slavery regime. The oldest of the ladies now in question is of uncertain age. She owns to twenty-five, and has quite forgotten her birthday, though her hair isstill as brown as ever, banged and friz- zed into the latest style of “lunatic fringe,” while her manners (when not addressing an in- ferior) are kittenish in the extreme, This, ladies and gentiemen, is the Honorable Lorelia Lawton, sister to the distinguished Sir Lumley Lawton, whose services in India have latel mn rewarded with a baronetcy—though Sir Lumley did not care for the honor; his elder brother, Lord Loughborough, being childless and consumptive. The young lady by her side, pale and beau- tiful as a Greek statue, is her niece, only daugh- ter of Sir Lumley, and the toast of half the messes in India, as the ‘‘ Flower of Calcutta.” ‘* Helen, my love,” begins aunt Lorelia, in her kittenish way, ‘‘I really must protest against these afternoon levees onsuch fearfully hot days. We are expected to hold our own against these wicked men, who are practicing witty ayes all the morning, when we’ve hardly strengt tospeak at all— Fan harder, pig. Are you asleep?” The last words are not in English, but deliv- ered in Hindoostanee with much energy to the patient black punkah-wallah behind her. many other Anglo-Indian ladies, the Honorable Lorelia keeps her Hindoostanee for abusive pur- oses, and knows very little of the language ut how to scold. The young lady by her side smiles in a lan- guid, weary manner. ‘‘Why not let them talk, aunty? It amuses them, you know.” There is a listlessly insolent air about Helen Lawton that comes of too much petting and flattery; for she bas been accustomed, ever since she was fifteen, to look on men, especially officers, as a sort of upper servants for her whims, She is not a bad girl by any means, for she is naturally kind and gentle, but the gentlest may be spoiled by irresponsible power. “* Ah, Miss sie, could ye be as cruel as that?’ says a rich oleaginous voice. ‘‘ Amuses us! And hayven’t [been trying for two mortal hours to amuse your beautiful self?’ The Honorable Lorelia strikes in with her usual ag giggle. “Why, Captain O'Shea! And I thought you were trying to please me.” ** And why not?” asked the Irishman, a stout, jolly-looking personage in the braided frock of an Officer of the Control Department (once Com- missariat). ‘Sure I’m like the highwayman in _— , Miss Lawton, that could be happy with either. *Peninsular and Oriental Steams Com s Line, running from England to Sater via hea.” MS. +) Like |} ape tos ———9 “Go away, you horridimmoralman. There’ no Nl you Irishmen, any more than the French, ou’re all the same deceiving set.” “ Ah, now, Miss Lawton, don’t be classin’ us with the French and allother foreigners. We're nearer to ye than the Yankees, anyway, and ye don’t abuse them.” ‘‘Because they say something when they speak, Captain O’Shea,” remarks the younger lady in her usual tone of languid disdain; and there is a general laugh at O'Shea’s expense, in’ which all join but a tall young fellow, who is sitting on a stool at Miss Helen’s feet. This youth hasa keen, handsome face, with those clear-cut, rather sh features, which would stamp him anywhere for an American. O’Shea reddens perceptibly through his sun- burnt mask, and seems a little at a loss for a reply. It is the American himself, of whom the stout officer has aves been jealous, who comes to his rescue with the quiet retort: ‘*Thanks for the compliment. But we can omy, call anything good which is rude. Cap-: tain O’Shea has one fault common to all Irish- men: he is too good-natured to shine in pure sarcasm.” As he speaks, he rises from his lowly seat and moves away forward among the crew, saying to the Irishman as he passes: ‘Come and have a cheroot, captain.” The Hon, Lorelia giggles with great delight as the two stroll forward, though her niece’s face had flushed violently. The elder lady is too fond of admiration not to enjoy seeing her beautiful relative snubbed. The two gentlemen are soon amicably en- gaged in burning the fragrant incense of the American weed, rolled into the form of che- roots, near the port paddle-box. O’Shea, who has been disposed to dislike the American, on the truly military ground that he is not one of “Ours,” has been completely conquered by the behavior of the latter. “It’s lovely weather we have, Mr. Hart,” he remarks, as a signal of amity. Clarence Hart casts a glance seaward. : ‘*We shall have a change soon, and a bad one at that,” he answers, gravely. He had struck his match, and was looking out over the port quarter toward the south-east as he spoke. O’Shea’s eyes, following his, saw on the hori-~ zon a small bank of cloud that looked like dis- tant land. ‘‘Did you never see such a cloud as that be- fore, Captain O’Shea?”’ asked Hart, as he light- ed his cheroot. “‘Bedad, and why not?’ was the counter- question, ‘‘ Clouds are common enough, on me conscience.” “Then look up there,” rejoined Hart, point- ing up beside the mizzen-topsai little white speck of vapor began tc be visible. ‘* Did you ever see a cloud Jike that?” O’Shea cocked his eye at it. “It?s growing, by the powers,” he remarked, in a tone of interest. ‘‘ We'll have alittle shade from this blackguard of a sun.” ‘* More than we wish,” replied Hart, gravely. **You’re a landsman, O’Shea, or you’d know what that means. We'll have a typhoon on us before sunset, or I never saw one.” As he spoke, O’Shea became aware that there was a commotion on deck, The officers came forward quietly, but rapidly, with grave faces. and the crew bustled about, while a number o men went aloft and began to send down the: light yards, CHAPTER IIi.. THE TYPHOON, In less than two minutes the speck of cloud O’Shea had seen by the mizzen-topsail-yard had grown into a black mass of vapor, with dull coppery reflections along its upper edge, ex- tending from the zenith almost to The bank that had first arisen on the horizon. Besides this, the cloud-bank on the sonth-east- ern horizon was rising steadily, like a chain of black and blue mountains with snow-clad peaks behind which incessant red flashes and the roll of thunder showed that a terrible storm was raging. Seed the lady passengers began to see theré was neg coming to mar the peessaree of the passage, though the captain and officers put on cheerful faces and made their preparations silently. . The first intimation they had of the coming peril was when the men op to strip off the uarter-deck awning, and the steward to carry the camp-chairs down below. The Hon. Lorelia saw the latter functionary displace her favorite lap-dog with a curt, “ Beg pardon, my lady,” and vanish down the com- nionway, whereupon she arose in great in- dignation, calling to ber Indian butler: ‘ Kitmuggar ! nlp gt al Bring back that chair instantly, for poor But, to her surprise, the Hindoo had vanish- ed; and not only that, but a couple of sailors had carried off her own and her niece’s seats im the first moment of her indignation, so that the quarter-deck was empty of chairs; while the captain was calling ok some uninte or- ders to the crew, and the mates were l-yard, where a ~ ossy! Doyou hear?’. _
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— r about with grave faces, swearing at the men in ‘ a way that denoted suppressed excitement. ‘‘ What does this mean? Are they all going mad, Helen?” asked the fair Lorelia of her niece, who was looking on at the bustle by her side with a pale face, Helen Lawton pointed to the huge black cloud, which had now united with that on the horizon, and spread like a*pall over three- fourths of the heavens, “Tm afraid we’re going to have a storm aunt,” she said, in a low, frightened voice. ‘ I heard the captain say something about a ty- hoon to Mr. McShane, though he didn’t in- jena me to hear.” : 5 The Hon. Lorelia turned as pale as her niece under her rouge. ‘‘ A typhuon!” she whispered. ‘‘ Oh, heavens! J Helén, we shall all be drowned.” : . At that moment a vivid flash of lightning came from the cloud above them, ran down the conductors on the foremast, which seemed for a moment to be all ablaze with intense blue light; then vanished in darkness, made more e terrible by a deafening crash of thunder. : The Hon. Lorelia shrieked dismally, while . Helen Lawton staggered and would have fallen, had not the American, who was coming aft with O’Shea, caught her in his arms. The Irish captain might possibly have passed by, leaving his younger comrade to do the part ofh squire of dames; but the dismayed Lorelia, with all the impulsive eagerness of sixteen, rushed into his arms in a violent fit of hysterics. Helen Lawton had fainted away in dead ear- nest, but her aunt made up for her silence by a succession of the most violent screams, nearly strangling the stalwart captain as she clung eaiad, his neck, and imploring him to “‘ Save es met Save me!” ; And just when her screams were loudest, = came several bright flashes, followed by deafen- ing peals of thunder; as the rain, in one broad, gray sheet, poured down like a cataract, : Rearense art had seen it coming, and had al- s ready borne his fair burden below, consigning her to the care of the stewardess; but the Hon. Lorelia’s hysterics were cut short in a strangled "e shriek, as the water came down. O’Shea, with = a few muttered words that sounded very much like profanity, helped her to the companion hatch, and saw her down-stairs, after which he returned on deck, to find the ship plowing = ahead, still in a dead calm through a dense a sheet of rain that hid all the horizon, the air as gloomy asif it were night, and no sound save the rush of the cloudy cataract, But this was not to last long. A moment later, the lightning and thunder recommenced, and soon became incessant, while of wind, alternately cold and hot, struck he ship from opposite quarters with the sud- denness of aérial trip-hammers. Then they heard a toud, roaring sound, loud- er than even the thunder, and down on the port quarter came the full fury of the typhoon, 4 blowing a hundred and fifty miles an hour, cut- ie ting the tops of the waves off as with a knife, B and filling the air with the sharp, stinging spray of the “spindrift.” It struck the ship, stripped though she was, ~ and made a clean sweep of all three masts at Apt ence, with its first effort, while the O’Shea found himself thrown headlong across the deck into the lee-scuppers, where at least twenty sailors and oflicers were already wallowing, For several minutes the typhoon howled over the ship from stern to bows; then lulled for about twenty seconds; when, crash/ came a fiercer blast {han ever on the starboard beam. First it was south, then north; now east, anon west; till the wind had boxed the compass in every pointalong the zigzag pathof thetyphoon. Now the sea rose and came tearing down on the devoted vessel in great green mountains. O’Shea, who had crawled up under the shel- ter of the stern rail, heard the captain yell out some order to the man at the wheel, just asa towering a monster came sweeping down ‘ on the port paddle-box. The ship’s head swerved round to meet the wave, but too late to prevent mischief. The eaptain himself was on the bridge, between the boxes, and the soldier saw him throw up his hands asif ina momentary access of despair. Then the wave struck the paddle-box; there was a sound of crashing w ; acloud of white foam. Thesbip quivered from stem to stern as the engines went whirling round unchecked by any resistance; then she swept round in a circle, like a wild duck with a broken wing; while wave after wave poured in upon fer, buffeting her from port to starboard with a succession of heavy blows, in the midst of which came the pas crashing of wood, resolving itself into splinters. an Thoroughly dismayed, the stout soldier stared wildly before him, and saw that the sea had Bat made a clean breach of both paddle-boxes, i wrecking the paddles completely and bendin AS the stout iron bars of the wheels as if they hac Ras” been mere wires. The ougtain had vanished, Lai, and nota man save himself seemed to be left eee on deck, while the sea to leeward was covered =) with pieces of wreck, token of how the remorse- este 3 less waves had swept the Benares from stem to ; stern, The Duke of Diamonds. CHAPTER IV. THE DIAMOND DUKE. Tue Arabian shore of the Persian Gulf is low and marshy, the districts of El Aksha and | Oman being notoriously unhealthy. The peo- ple are ‘sus. 3 darker than their neighbors of the interior highlands of Nedjed, and get their liv- ing by fishing and the slave trade, when not working in the rice-fields. The little town of Tuat, low and mud-walled, with a single mosque, and not more than a thousand inabitants, became one of the princi- pal depéts of the slave trade after the Imaum of Muscat made his renowned treaty with Eng- | land, by which the trade was supposed to be abolished in his dominions. The English cruisers had made matters on the coast of Africa pretty hot for the slavers, but a few dhows succeeded in running the blockade every year, and these made the best of their way to El Katif and Tuat, knowing that English an ’ rarely went beyond Muscat or into the ulf, navy, cruisiug around Bushire on the Persian coast, is the only vestige of law and order in those seas; and the British Resident at Bushire never interferes with the opposite coast. But, Tuat is something besides.a slave depdt. It lies behind the famous island of Bahrein, the home of the pear!-fishery, and every Arab on the coast, from El Katif’ fo judge of pearls. In fact, the pearls are the prime cause of the slave trade, for the divers are all negroes, forced to risk their lives against the sharks, whether they like it or not. When we come to Tuat it is late in June, and the fishing season has set inin full vigor. The little town lies scorching in the sun on its black mud flat, and the portis full of boats, putting out and comin at the other side of the sound, But, outside of the little dirty Arab craft that ply to and fro, lies at anchor a vessel of very different appearance, with a trim neatness about her that tells of civilization. Not very high in the water, for one we y easily climb into her waist from a row-boat stepping into the main chains, she is yet far larger than the biggest of the pearl-boats and dhows that are scattered about. A Yaitkee ship- master would judge her as ‘‘about three hun- dred and fifty tons, old measurement; nearer four hundred, new style;” and would as unhes- itatingly call her a yacht. No trading-vessel ever had such a gloss to her dark brown paint, like mahogany, or such a bright gold streak running from bow to stern. No trader ever kept her decks so white and clean, or her masts stayed so truly. But this yacht, if yacht she be, has a look about her décidedly Oriental, for her rig is that of the Arab or Mediterranean ‘*‘ lateener ;” with short sturdy masts, raking forward, and taper- ing ards of enormous length, rising in the air as high as the masts of an ordinary schooner. The sails are furled snugly away, however, with a care and neatness that no Oriental vessel ever displayed, arfd contradict the presumption raised by the rest of the rig. A few sailors, grouped on the forecastle or busied around the brass-work of the yacht, polishing up in man-of-war style, while they work like Europeans, are as decidedly natives of these tropical seas; swarthy Arabs; supple Hin- doos; active little Malays; all dressed in uni- form of Moslem cut, turbaned, jacketed and baggy-breeched, with bare feet, their sashes full of weapons; a most truculent-looking crew for a yacht, though silent and orderly as so many man-of-war’s-men. The vessel has no guns visible, but there are several neat teakwood brass-bound cases, ranged at intervals along the bulwarks, inside, that havea strangeappearance, being about the size of an ordinary gun, without any carriage, and placed opposite the ports, What thesecases may be and what they contain, in our days of rtable wane and Hotchkiss guns, is prob- ematical; but the yacht has withal the look of a craft that can ‘take care of herself, even among the slave-huntersand other rascally cut- throats of the coasts of HE] Aksha and Oman, The deck of the vessel is flush or level, the quarter-deck not being raised above the rest, and the cabin being down-stairs. Pacing to and fro near the stern rail, with a keen eye on thecrew, to see that they do their work, strides a tall, thin, bony man, with broad angular shoulders and asharp eager face. His eyes are of thot greenish hazel, with yellow specks, that betoken.keen sight; and his beard is of that intense blue-black that only accom- panies the Persian method of dyeing with henna and indigo.* At the sides it is scanty and thin, but grows heavily on mouth and chin, and is *Turks and Persians almost universally dye their beards, performing the operation openly and taking several ays to perfect it. First they use a decoc- tion of hénna, the same with which harem beauties stain the tips of their fingers. This turns the board a bright brickdust red, in which state the hair re- mains several days, the owner not seeming to take any shame from the looks of his face. The dyeing is then completed with indigo, which confers a lus- trous blue- that lasts some time, A single gunboat of the East Indian | in from Bahrein, just in sight | | ship’s com Muscat, is a keen | trimmed to a point, which lies on his breast, and which he frequently strokes caressingly. This personage wears a brilliant uniform of scarlet and green, with the buttons of the House of wide, ogre and the ensign which droops lazily from the flagstaff at the stern of the yacht bears the colors of Portugal. He seems to talk any of a dozen Oriental Jan- guages, for his sharp, stern voice addresses each of the seamen in his own tongue, though per- nape equally illin all, for what the reader can te Still, Portuguese appears to be the official lan- e of the yacht, for it is in Portuguese that € snaps out his last order. ‘*Call all hands to receive His Grace, the | Duke of Diamantina; and pipe the boats for shore,” Instantly a great black-bearded giant, the sil- ver anchor on whose sleeve proclaims him to be the boatswain, sounds his shrill whistle in true man-of-war style, when up the hatchways come tumbling fifty or yen | men, who range them- selves in regular order and stand looking to- ward the cabin. Presently a head is seen rising above the brass rail and a young man comes up on deck and touches his hat in answer to the salutes of the crew. Whatever may be the attire of the rest of the ny, this young man might Pe muster in dress and manner in any part of the world for a rich yacht-owner. His dark blue | suit, fitting irreproachably, white vest and slip- fe et See eS eee pers, broad hat of Guayaquil grass, are all so studiously plain that they show the master of dress among his gaudily-clad dependents. Neither uniform, weapons, nor jewels mark the young Duke of Diamantina; owner of half the diamonds in the world (according to report) and spending pra? & like water. Plam gold studs and a slender watch-chain are the only traces of ornament about him, and there is nothing to | distract attention from his handsome face and figure, Both of these are of remarkable symmetry. He is above the medium hight, and his frame looks slight and agile, though there is a depth of chest about it, such as we find when we look closer at the Apollo Belvidere. His face is of that dark aquiline character we expect to find in southern races, with magnificent eyes, thin curling lips, intensely black hair and mustache, setting off splendid teeth when he smiles, as he does now to the officer in uniform. ** Well, Dom Gil,” he says, in a tone of languid approval, ‘‘you have brought these cubs into shape at jast Isee. Iam satisfied now that we can go to Calcutta without being ashamed of the vessel.” The keen-looking officer with the black beard looks yey at the men and answers: “T think t ey will do, after awhile, your t’s a good deal of trouble to get o to Bab- “Have you large pearls, Dom “One of the pearl-boats came in this morn- ing with the joy-song, your grace, and, when I asked, they told me that Haroun the Wahabee had brought the largest find of fifty years.” The duke displayed his white teeth, as his lip curled in a gentle smile. “Send the men to their berths,” he said, quietly.. *‘ Haroun the Wahabee is very oblig- ing to save me a hot row in the sun. Send for him to my cabin.” Dom Gil bowed, and the duke returned to his cabin, the pleasantest and coolest retreat im- aginable on that blazing day. A strong current of air came in through the stern windows and traveled up the wind-sail cooled as it went by a fine spray of perfum water, thrown across each window of the yacht by a self-acting atomizer. The furniture was all that taste and comfort could desire and lux- ury purchase, cool silk cushions, ebony and sil- ver couches seated with cane network, books, pictures, statuettes, trophies of arms, The duke threw himself down on a silk-cover- ed divan, smooth and cool, by the stern win- dow, and looked lazily out tosea. The tide had swung the yacht’s stern out in that direction and brought into the midst of his field of vision a large slave dhow, slowly gliding into the port of Tuat under a faint breeze from the south. She was crowded with negroes, who had been shaken up out of their confined position during the voyage, now that there was no further dan- er of their escape, and the slavers were busy ocking off their irons. The duke looked at them with a slight ex- pression of disgust. He had often seen slave dhows before, and the breeze brought from this one a sickening effluvium. He clapped his hands and a little black boy entered the room with his master’s long hookah which the duke began to smoke in self-defense, He was not. used to disagreeable things and the presence of this horrible slave dhow annoyed him tly. ot glided slowly on, the yacht, and at last the
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vould stand it no longer. With an impatient sigh, much at variance with his usual imper- turbable demeanor, he laid down his pipe, and said sharply to the black boy: ‘*Goup and tell Dom Gil Grabador to make those people go to leeward or else sink them.” The boy vanished. To Dom Gil and all on board, the duke’s word was law and gospel’combined, Without a mo- ment’s hesitation the tall officer hailed the slave how in bad Arabic: “Take your vile carcasses to leeward, sons of unwashed mothers, or I’ll sink you.” As he spoke, and asif by magic, the men on the watch whipped off one of the brass-bound cases that stood inside the bulwarks of the yacht, and up went a bright steel mitrailleur, inged on a long bar, so that it just peeped over the top of the rail and presented its circle of gleaming barrels at the slave dhow. The effect was immediate. There was a con- fusion of unintelligible yellsand Arabic orders, in the midst of which the dhow altered her course and took her vile odors out of the wea- ther-gage of the yacht. Not, however, before she had drifted within a hundred yards, The Duke of Diamantina, lazily smoking his hookah, saw the wild confusi..n on board as she sheered off; and a moment later two white figures shot over the side of the slaver and plunged into the water with a splash. The duke half arose and saw two heads emerzo from the water and come swimming toward the yacht. He knew they must be those of escaping slaves, but the white bodies particularly arrested his attention. Then the Arabs on the slaver opened fire with their long muskets at the two fugitives, and the duke frowned slightly. Turning to the waiting black boy, he said, as quietly as usual: ** Tell Dom Gil to stop their firing.” This time the boy grinned as he vanished. The message suited him. A moment later, the powerfui tones of Dom Gil shouted, in the same inelegant but forcible Arabic which the slavers seemed to understand so well before: “Stop shooting, pigs; or we shoot too. Keep your slaves tight after this.” There was an immediate cessation of firing on board.the dhow, though the reis beg .n to shout out all kinds of remonstrances against robbing a man of his property; but in the meantime the two swimmers reached the side of the qacht, grappled a rope thrown them by one of he sailors at a signal from Dom Gil, and were hauled on board, two white men, one red- bearded and burly, the other slender and blonde, They were both stripped of clothes, and coy- ered with raw patches where the skin had cracked under exposure to the sun, so that, al- together, they presented p, pitiable appear- ance, Dom Gil came to meet them, and his usual harp, stern face melted into lines expressing a certain grim kindness as he asked: “*Ingleez, you s’all be, eh? Ispik ze Ingleez lak native. Vere from, you s’all come?” The red-bearded man grinned in answer as he said in broad Irish: ‘Faith, and we shall come home as soon as wecan get there. Is it where we came from? Out of the say, be the powers. Wrecked in a typhoon, and ops: up off araft by the slavers. worse luck! I’m Captain Thaddeus O’Shea, of Her Majesty’s Department of Army Control, and thisis my friend, Mr, Hart, of America.” Dom Gil turned and looked at the younger man with interest. ** Americano you s’all be, aha? Ve s’all be brozairs. Ve s’all be all of America here, o Duque del Diamantina an’ all. Is’all be Dom Gil Grabador, Commandante of de Naves Brazil- iano. Don’t you are feel cold? You s’all be have close, and s’all see o duque. Hola, An- tonio Senas!” He called the steward and gave him some rapid directions in Portuguese, when the man beckoned them forward and took them into the store-room of the yacht, down the main hatch which they found supplied with clothes of all descriptions and nationalities, While they were being hospitably entertain- ed, Dom Gil went down to the cabin and re- spectfully saluted the duke, who asked in his usual quiet manner: ‘Well, Dom Gil?” “They are refugees from a wreck, mt sefihor ; one Irish, the other an American, The Irish- man is an officer of the English staff, the other a civilian. I have sent them to be dressed. Will you see them?” * ‘* Are you sure neither is English?” asked the duke, slowly. ‘“‘T can tell an Englishman, like a snake, by his tongue. Neither is English,” : ‘Then let them come in.” Dom Gil bowed and left the cabin, which he soon reéntered, leading O’Shea and Hart. The duke rose from his lounge with easy politeness and advanced to. meet his guests, saying, in English of the utmost portly, and in a soft, low yoice, with only a slight foreign accent: “Gentlemen, [ am rejoiced to become the ¢eans of your deliverance from those rascals of wae 5 ee eats Y REM, eS 4 UE ee ; ee UITnEEIIEETIEEENEEnInEn bh The Duke of Diamonds. slave-hunters. Be pleased to consider this ves- sel and all in it as yours to command.” Then he ssonped, for O’Shea was staring at him as if he had seen a ghost. The jaw of the Irishman had dropped, and his eyes were fixed = glassy, while he trembled as if he would a “Ts the gentleman sick?” asked the Duke of Diamantina. CHAPTER V. AN UNPROTECTED FEMALE. Ir was not without reason that the Duke asked O’Shea whether he was ill, for the cap- tain seémed in imminent danger of a fit. Dom Gil and Clarence Hart supported him on either side, while the Brazilian nobleman, with the coolness that marked his every motion, poured out a glass of sherbet and held it to his lips, say- ing: “Lay the senhor down, Dom Gil. Perhaps he is sunstruck.” They were leading him to the lounge, when O’Shea stopped and stiffened up: then trembled again, and asked Dom Gil breathlessly : “For the love o’ God, darlin’, who’s that? Don’t lie to me! Whois he?” ‘‘Dat is Senhor Vom Afonso Vasco Vasquez Conde del Rio Bravo, Marquez del Pombal, and Duque del Diamantina,” answered Dom Gil, in his most imposing manner, **And he’s not a ghost? A real true flesh- and-blood man?” asked O’Shea, in the same breathless way. Here the duke smiled. ‘*Here is my hand, senhor, to feel if I am flesh and blood.” As he spoke he grasped the hand of the: stout Trishman with such a sudden and powerful gripe that his small slim hands seemed to be made of steel wire; and the pain brought O’Shea to his senses more effectually than any other thing could have done. ‘*Yer honor’s alive,” he answered, in the tones of a soldier addressing an officer. Then he hesitated a moment and asked in a more collected way: ‘* Was your grace ever in India?” ‘*T am a Brazilian,” answered the duke, calmly. ‘‘I have been in Goa, but we have not visited your parts yet.” O’Shea nodded his head and muttered: **Tt can’t be. I must have dr’amed.” Then he bowed and apologized, “IT beg pardon, your grace, but maybe it’s the sun made me rude, Those murderin’ divils of slavers stripped us and left usin the sun till we were nigh dead. I’m thankful your grace was here, or maybe we’d be dead by this.’ The Duke of Diamantina smiled in his quiet, unimpassioned way, and turned the conversa- tion by speaking to Clarence Hart. “You are an American, senhor. I am re- seen to see you, for we Brazilians are great riends of your people. Should I be imperti- nent were I to ask how you came in this plight” “Not at all, — grace. Our story is soon told. Captain O’Shea and myself were passen- gers from Bombay on the steamer Benares, an old Fe sgh rt tub, that ought to have been condemned long ago. We were caught in a hoon and the ship foundered, after the cap- tain and officers had been swept overboard. Luckily for me, I owned a Boyton suit; and, thanks to that, I helped O’Shea and two of the lady passengers off to a raft we made out of the wreck of the ship’s spars. Next day we were picked up by that slaver, whose people at .once put usin irons and placed the ladies in their cabin. They arestill there, to be sold as slaves, I presume, after they land.” o sooner had he finished than the duke turned to Dom Gil, saying: “Go to the slaver at once, and buy the two women they have on board. Pay whatever they ask. eare very fortunate if they have not gone already.” Clarence began to thank the duke earnestly for his kindness, but Diamantina waved his hand in a slighting manner. ‘*My dear sir, it is nothing. We must not allow ladies to be sold for a Moslem harem. Besides, it may be well to wait for thanks till we have thom safe on board. I know these Arabs, and they are a very tricky race. One is never certain of them. Be quick, Dom Gil, and come back with the ladies as soon as you can,” Dom Gil left the cabin while he was speaking, and they heard the dash of oars almost im- mediately after, showing that the first officer of the yacht was on his way to the slaver. The duke clapped his hands and said some words ia Portuguese to the black boy, who ran | out and returned almost immediately with the steward, carrying a table ready set with all the juxuries of a tropical climate, accompanied by ices tnat made O’Shea’s mouth water, as the duke said: ‘Your fare on the slaver was in all prob, ability not what you are accustomed to, gentile- men. May I hope you will take lunch with | me, and honor my little boat by taking up your | quarters here?” ‘*Paith, and Pll own we’re nearly starving, ipomrmema ers =~) our grace,” replied the Irishman, frankly. **T’d not be refusing lunch any time, and now I could ate raw beef.” “Then fall to, gentlemen,” answered their host, with his usual gentle sourtesy, and they were not slow to obey the invitation. As they were slowly consuming the ices with which the luxurious repast concluded, Clarence observed : ‘*We hardly expected to find ices on the coast of Arabia.” ‘And yet you have them on the Bombay steamers and at Calcutta,” answered the duke, quietly. ‘* Yes, but the ice comes in ships from Amer ica, and is very dear.” ‘*My dear sir, it is nothing but a question of a little trouble, I have my private provision- ship that follows me at intervals, and keeps me supplied. Just now she is at Ismalia, loading with ice. It takes about a ton a day to keep the yacht cool in summer. You notice the temperatureof the cabin. lt is kept at seventy degrees of your Fahrenheit thermometer, though it be more than a hundred outdoors, by means of my, ice-spray. Iwill show you, if you ~ will permit. He pointed out to them, over the frame of each window, a bracket, which held a large sil- ver vase, from the foot of which a fine spray, almost invisible, was floating down across the window. ‘*You have seen those little toys they call atomizers in the pharmacia—the apothecary’s? That is the whole secret of this cool air. e vases contain ice and sea-water, and it is per- fumed before it descends. It evaporates rapid- ly, and you feel the result. Will you smoke, gentlemen? I have the hookah if you prefer, or the , ‘Oh, give me a cigar, for the love o’ God. None of yer hookahs for me, bad luck to’em. They’re too much like India,” said O'Shea, bluffly. He seemed to be getting over his fear of the Duke of Diamantina. e latter eyed him with his usual bland calmness. ‘You do not seem to like India very much, senhor?” “‘Bedad, and I don’t, duke. Tis a good country to rob, and a better to leave with the plunder.” : “My dear sir,” smiled the other, handing him a richly-chased silver jar full of the finest Havanas, ‘‘that has been the logic of three thousand years of conquest in the world. The robber who carries off his plunder can spend it and come back for more, but he who sits down over his loot in India is apt to lose it to one stronger than he.” O’Shea cackled over his a as he lighted it. He could not enter into the soarings of phi- losophy, but he was an old East Indian and he had never smoked such a cigar before. ‘“‘“Where do ye get these cigars?” he asked, curiously, snuffing the aroma of the dark to- 0. “My dear sir, I w them. My steward keeps the accounts of one estate I have in the pe oe Abajo, in Cuba, and they come from ere. Clarence Hart had been looking out of the stern windows while they were chatting thus idly, and’saw the white gig of the yacht coming back with Dom Gil Grabador in the stern- sheets, but only accompanied by a single figure in female attire, closely vailed. In some agitation he turned to his host, say- ing: f Dom Gil is coming back, but only with one, Can he-have failed?” ws My deer sir,” was the sublimely quiet reply, “my Pye io never fail, You shall have your lad iends, unless they are killed before we find them, and even then their remains shall be turned over to your care.” Clarence was silenced by the absolute faith this man seemed to have in bis own powers to accomplish anything, and he waited till the Brazilian officer entered the cabin, leading with him the unknown female, who struck an atti- tude as soon as she came in, threw back her vail, and fell at the fect of the duke, crying: ‘My brave preserver! Heaven bless you for saving an innocent msiden’s honor from the ruffian grasp of the infidel Arabs.” Clarence could not avoid turning away to conceal a smile, for it was none otber than the Hon. Lorelia, painted in true Oriental fashion, her eyes made large and languishing by touch- ing the lids with black antimony, her hair orna- mented with gold coins hanging over her fore- head, her slender and rather angular figure concealed by Oriental kaftan, sash and petti- coattrowsers. It was the Hon. Lorelia Lawton, transmogrified by the arts of the slave-trader to present the most captivating appearance of which she was capable, to attract the eye of a urchaser. : x O’Shea, who was behind her, grinned at Dom Gil, and the iron featuresof the Erezilian officer softened into a responsive look; but the ex- guisite courtesy of the Duke of Diamantina never failed him, and he raised the fair Lorelia frou the carpet with his usual calm blandness, telling her: : ‘*Be of good cheer, madame, I am only teo
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happy to be of any use to a lady of your condi- tion. Pray be seated, and excuse me, while I question my steward a moment.” ne His voice was calm, his manner as frigid as that of Lorclia was ardent, and the honorable maiden took her seat, rather chopfallen. ““Where are the others, Dom Gil?’ asked the duke, in Portuguese. ; ? “The slavers say they will not sell them till ou have paid the price for the escaping men. They would only let me have the old woman.” It was luck for the sensitiveness of the Hon. Miss Lawton that she did not understand a word of Portuguese. The duke looked annoyed. ‘Did you not then pay for them?” ‘*T hardly dared, mi senhor. They asked fifty thousand piastres for each, and twice as much for the women.” The Duke of Diamantina looked coldly at his major-domo. “Dom Gil,” he said, icily, ‘‘I have never known you to hesitate about an order before. Get me these people, if they have not gone. While you are waiting, they may send them off to Fyzoul Abdallah.” ; Dom Gil flushed to his temples as he bowed in answer to his employer, and the duke turned away to Clarence saying, in English: ‘**T fear I must trouble my honored guests to come on deck for a little while. These rascals are impudent at times and will not give up a valuable prisoner without a full gain. Madame, permit me.” CHAPTER VI. LORELIA’S WATCH. He offered his arm to the Hon. Lorelia, who accepted it with simpering eagerness, and the shone party ascended to the quarter-deck, where they found an awning spread and a shower of fine icy spray already filling the air from pumps set in motion as soon as the duke set his foot on the bottom step of the stairs. “Dear me, duke; you have the very perfec- tion of luxury here,” remarked Miss Lawton, as she sunk into a camp-chair in the midst of this cooling spray. ‘It seems to me that I could live io forever, were I in your posi- tion.” The duke smiled in his usual cool indifferent way, Oi try to make my friends pleased with their reception, madame. Iam glad the yacht meets your wishes,” : : Even while he was speaking, his eyes were roaming toward the shore, where the slave dhow was now beached in the mud, while her cargo of blacks was being quickly discharged, sur- rounded by a mob of purchasers, intent on good bargains. Outside this crowd they could see a troop of camels, about thi: ty in number, whereof several were equipped with the broad-winged and curtained litters in which the harem wo- men of rich Arabs are accustomed to ride. The duke looked keenly at these, and com- pressed his lips slightly as he noticed that they were moving off across the mud flat of Tuat to- ward the highlands, by way of the beaten track to Dereeyab. While he was looking, Dom Gil’s boat was nearing the slave dhow, and another boat—one of the common Arab craft—approached the yacht itself, . Z The Hon. Lorelia was full of romantic delight at the picture round her, ‘*T have longed above all things to see Ara- bia,” she declared; ‘‘ and this is just too awful- ly nice for anything. Look at those camels, with their funny saddles, like big butterflies. What in the world are they, duke?” “T fear, madame,” rejoined“uhe duke, grave- ly, ‘‘that one of those camels ‘3 carrying off your friend to visit Fyzoul Abdallah, in Deree- ah ? ‘*And who is Fyzoul Abdallah?” asked Lo- relia, innocently. ‘He is the Sultan of Deree ah, the capital of the Wahabees, madame. he Wahabees, as you are no doubt aware, are the most fanatical . of Moslems; and a Christian in their hands is retty certain to be killed if a man; kept in a haseos for life, if a woman.” The Hon. Miss Lawton began to look fright- ened, as she ejaculated: ‘* And will they put Helen e a harem, duke? ll we never see her again Sono if I can help it, ay and I think I can, not being quite unknown here. Pardon me one moment. I see a person coming on iness.” ‘ ae bowed and went forward to the main ngway, where a little dried-up Arab, meanly peli was bowing with a profusion of Orien- tal compliments at bis good fortune in behold- ing the ‘‘ Golden Prince of all Riches, the illus- trious Lord from the West who had deigned to send for Haroun al Wahabi, to buy of him the Pearl of all Pearls.” ; The duke cut short his compliments by saying coldly: ig Show me the pearl. If I have none larger I will take af POM a ae Haroun esi ss **Can I not show it to the Great Lord of all Jewels in private!” The Duke of Diamonds. The duke beckoned him apart from the rest, and the Arab produced from a bundle of rags in the recesses of his garments a handsome pearl, of the drop shape so much admired in | ear-rings. returned it, ‘Tt isa good one, but I have better. The duke inspected it quietly and Bring ed as closely himself by O’Shea and Hart. He returned it with a bow. ““It is very nice, madame,” said the Duke of Diamantina, frigidly, and O’Shea gave a deep sigh and muttered to himself: ‘It can’t be he. It can’t,” But Clarence Hart, keener by nature and mea match for it, and I will take them. Whose | education than the honest Irish soldier, noticed camels are those goitig to Dereeyah?” The Arab was so taken by surprise by the sudden change of subject that he unguardedly answered: ‘** Mine, great lord.” *‘How much does Fyzoul Abdallah offer for the white woman?” asked the duke, in the same listless way, as if not much interested in the reply. Is time the Arab screwed up his wizen face and replied, more guardedly; “Does the Lord of Jewels wish to buy her himself?” The duke frowned at him, and the frown transformed his countenance from the lazy po of Antinous to the pitiless sternness of the 0. ie I wish to take her I will but speak a word and kill every man in t ere he can draw his sword. Answer my question.” Haroun cringed in awe before this impertur- bable man, for he knew that the duke spoke the truth, e mitrailleurs of the yacht could have exterminated every living being in Tuat inside of halfan hour. The wily Arab sought to make his peace and a good bargain at once by hastening to say; “I meant no offense, great lord; but the Sul- tan of Dereeyah gave me a commission to find him a white girl, young and handsome, more than a yearago. IfI give her up, now I have her, I shall be killed by Fyzoui Abdallah’s spies, unless I leave Arabia forever.” The duke nodded gravely. ‘‘Tsee, Then you must leave it. I will give you enough to take you away. Name your price to Dom Gil, and he will pay you when the g rl is delivered.” He returned to the quarter-deck and looked out toshore. The loaded camels were moving rapidly off toward the mountains, and Dom Gil’s boat was lying on the mudd ?; beach, while that energetic officer himself could be seen hur- rying to and fro among the Arabs on the shore, as if full of business. Haroun the Wahabee scrambled into his boat and was rowed to shore, while the duke return- ed to the quarter-deck and looked at his watch. He stood near the Hon. Lorelia, who was making eyes as usual at the nearest available man—in this case O’Shea—and the sharp eyes of the lady noticed the simplicity of the time- piece, a P ain gold case. Full of vanity, she began to lament the fact that her own watch had been injured during her adventures in the water, and inquired: ‘Ts it not safe to say that your grace, amidst so much luxury, keeps a watchmaker and jew- eler in his train?” “I believe so, madame,” was the quietly- courteous reply; but the duke did not seem to be particularly interested in the matter of Lo relia’s timepiece. “‘T should be desolated, as the French say, if it were spoiled,” remarked the Hon. Lorelia,. pulling, out a magnificent watch incrusted with jiamonds, ‘It was a present from my bro- ther, Sir Lumley Lawton, when he was made Governor of Krishnapoor after the mutiny. You remember the mutiny, duke?” Clarence Hart, who had been quietly watch- ing the Hon. Lorelia and O’Shea with some amusement, had noticed that the sunburnt face of the soldier always assumed an expression strongly akin to hatred when the lady consult- ed her watch, which she did about a hundred times a day. It was a very handsome toy, of French make, a repeater an stop-watch in one, with so many diamonds on the case that it flashed like a single jewel when taken out: and it was a matter of wonder to him how the fair Lorelia had managed to hide it from the slaver’s people. The lady was proud of it with good reason and past Ryo of displaying it. This time he watched O’Shea to see if the cap- tain would show his usual emotion, but noticed that the Irishman had his eyes fixed on the Duke of Diamantina while Lorelia was speak- ing. The Brazilian nobleman, on his part, was still looking out toward the shore, and only pre- tending to listen to the British maiden of uncer- tain age and kittenish manners, “Tell me, duke; did you ever see such a watch as this?” continued Lorelia, piqued at his calmness and holding up the watch. The duke turned his eyes full on her with a serious sweetness that disarmed her. “Pardon my inattention, madame, but I was thinking of your friends in danger. I fear we shall have to follow them to Dereeyah.” inn ed eB — get them back?’ asked the uiringly. ra We shall, madame.” “Then look at my watch and tell me what you think of it,” she continued. The duke took the 1 a his hands with indif- ferent courtesy and looked at it closely, watch- ; | 4 . * ra -" ones fe tk a! ie deet Sera cits Se = es Q | that as the duke turned away he gave one flash of his dark eyes at the unconscious Lorelia, and in that moment his face seemed to be tra formed to the likeness of Satan, king of fallen angels! ' But his mien was unruffled and his voice as cool as might Le imagined of an animated icicle, ' as he remarked to Clarence: ““My dear sir, I am truly sorry for your friends, but I see the camels are far on their way to Dereeyah. I doubt if Haroun can over- take them in time. We must follow ourselves, Can you ride a camel?’ CHAPTER VII. CLARENCE HART'S STORY. CLARENCE was somewhat surprised at the last question of the duke. ““T suppose I could if I tried. I have done a little of everything in my life.” The duke took him to one side of the quarter- eck, ‘*Pardon the question, my dear sir, but I am interested in your face and nationality. Will you tell me how you, an American, come into these seas? I owemuch to your nation; and if, as I fancy, you are free, I have a proposition te make to you that may meet your views,” Clarence smiled good-humoredly. “There is but little to tell your grace. My name is Clarence Hart, educated as a physician in Boston, but coming to sea in the navy as soon as I had taken my degree. I went to China in the frigate Mobile four years ago, got tired and resigned my post after two years, and have since been wa:idering through the East Indies, hunting for a relative of mine who disappeared from Boston before my mother was married. He was her favorite brother and she has never forgotten him.” The duke seemed interested, “ And thisrelat:ve—your uncle—what makes you think him in the East?” “The last my mother heard of him he was in the service of an Indian prince, the Rajah of Krishnapoor, His name was Gilbert Carver, and I have traced him so far under the Hindoo name of Gilkarvah. He was a tall, thin man with sandy hair, but must be gray now, for he was twenty years old when I was born.” ‘“*And you think he is living still?’ said the duke, softly. ‘*T hope so, your prace, for my mother’s sake,” was the reply; ‘‘but I sometimes fear I shall never find him. I have heard by accident, from Captain O’Shea yondcr, that the rajah, his master, was executed, under circumstances of the most—¥ He stopped and gazed in some alarm at the duke, whose countenance had become marble pale, while the hand which still rested on Clar- ence’s shoulder clutched it like a, vise. ‘**Ts your grace il?” he asked. *Ttis nothing. Iam subjectto heart,” replied the other, hastily. tice it, but go on.” His hand relaxed, and his features resumed their wonted serenity as Clarence pursued: ‘O'Shea, it seems, commanded the gun de- tachment that killed the poor prince, who gave him some present in his lest mcments. I don’t know what it was; Lut O’Shea seems to be very bitter over the fact that it was taken from bir by his superiors. From something he let drop, I fancy it may be that very watch Miss Lawton showed us just now.” ‘You are right,” assented the duke, hastily. ‘“‘That is, your conjecture is probably correct. Pray 6° on, Senhor Hart.” “That is nearly all, your grace. T set out from Bombay in the Benares, despondiug of ever seeing my lost uncle; and, while there, I met O’Shea and the Lawtons, and we were wrecked, as you know.” “Senhor, I thank you for your confidence and will not abuse it,” said the duke, with the stately politeness of a Brazilian noble, the most polished pecple alive. Clarence hesitated, and a moment later asked wistfully: ** Does Phe grace think that I have any chance of finding my uncle Gilbert? You know these lards well. Is there any chance?” “My dear sir,” was the kind reply, and the Brazilian’s face fairly beamed with gracious softness, ‘‘good sons like you will always find their reward. Who knows? You may see your uncle sooner than you expect. Is your father yet living?” Clare: ce sighed. ; “Alas, no. My mother has been a widow ten ears. The duke pressed his hand warmly, ‘“* Weare alike in that, too. I am fatherless, for twenty long, long Pb Come, senhor, to my proposition. Dom Gil Grabador is my manager, my captain of yacht a engi ge of rents, m factotum; but Dom Gil not what you call sms of the ‘Do not no- tM epee
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pik ies! hs . education, save of the world. I am indolent, I; and I need a secretary and confidant who can write my letters and be my friend. Will you take the ae a and rame your own salary? That is all.” Clarence noticed that the duke’s English took on quaint foreign idioms when he talked earn- estly, and he feit so much surprised by the pro- position that he hesitated. The Brazilian noticed his embarrassment, and said, kindly: “Think over it, my dear sir, and give me an answer at your leisure. Isee Dom Gilis com- ing back to report that he bas engaged camels. A very energetic man is Dom Gil. You will like him. He has been in the United States, even in Boston, I bel eve. Who did you say was this lady in the slaver, Senhor Hart?” It was the first time the duke had asked a di- rect question as to the name of any of h's guests, his delicate and ultra-Portuguese courtesy hav- ing kept his lips sealed before. ‘Miss Helen, daughter of Sir Lumley Law- ton, Governor of Calcutta.” The duke hummed a low note, "So, Sir Lumley has a daughter? handsome?” ‘Beautiful as an angel,” replied Clarence, enthusiastically, The duke looked at him keenly. ““My dear sir, there are beautiful women everywhere. These English are not for Ameri- cans to love, Be warned by me, and keep to your own race. The Hindoos are right. Caste should never be confused.” Clarence colored as he retorted; ‘* English and Americans are one race, your e. The duke shrugged his shoulders with a slight grimace. ‘*My dear sir, I never argue, Here is Dom Gil coming on board.” In fact at that moment the tall officer return- ed and made a stiff military salute to his su- perior, while he gavein his concise and clear report. ‘The old slave merchant has taken off the woman to Dereeyah, and Ihave engaged camels to follow at once. We can take the gun-sad- dies and enough men along to be safe, and startin an hour, Will your grace stay or go?” Clarence understood nothing of the rapid Portuguese beyond an occasional word, but the duke remarked in English: “Our Dom Gil is an invaluable man, Mr. Hart. He has repaired an excusable fault by prompt diligence. I will go, Dom Gil. In the megntime, let me introduce to you the Senhor Clarence Hart, from Boston, who is hunting the world over to find his uncle, Gilbert Carver, of the samo place. Now, my dear friend, consult with Dom Gil as to the proposition I made ou, while I go to my cabin to dress for our ourney.” He bowed politely, never seeming to notice that Dom Gil was looking at Hart in a manner showing great astonishment, and then crossed over to where the fair Lorelia had pinned O’Shea into a corner, where she was exercising all her wiles upon him. ‘*Do you think, madame,” he asked, ‘‘that you could be content in these poor quarters for afew days? If so, I willask you to make tho iad your home while we aroaway. Captain ‘Shea, you, I believe, have been in the artil- lery. twill ask you to remain in tho yacht while I go after your other friend, Miss Law- ton. Picase take charge of the defense, in case any of these Arab rascals think to impose on you, whils lam away withthe men. You un- dersian'l te Gatling mitrailleur, senhor?”’ ‘*T dothat, your grace,” was the hearty reply. “Tow many men wiil ye l’ave?” Tot more than a dozen, senor, I shall want all the rest to cow Fyzoul Abdaliah.” * And how many Gatlings?” “Three. One for each flank, and one for the stern and bow.” O'Shea nodded his head, well satisfied. * Bodad, that’s enough to bate off any quantity of the black divils. lll stay, yer hon—I mane, yer grace.” Clarence noted that the duke, in speaking to O’Ghea, took a curl military tone, and that tho Irishman seemed to forget, at times, that he was no longer in the ranks, hi¥ expressions be- ing less those of an officer than a common sol- dier, The duke was turning away, when the Hon. Lorelia, looking horrified, made bold to inter- She is e. Pe Surely your grace does not intend to leave me alone in this boat?” The Brazilian bowed with the utmost suavity. “Tt is a choica, dear madame, between the yacht and shore. If you do not like better to return among the Arabs, I should say, stay here, I hold my position among these ruffians only by terror. They would sack the yacht in one hour, were it not for my mitrailleurs. I cannot take you with me, for we shall probably have to fight our way back, and shail not want any ladies with us but those with whom it is a ¢ehoice between death among the Arabs or peril withus. You, madame, are safe, here.” With that, he ran down into the cabin, where | The Duke of Diamonds. ; he was heard calling to his servants, while Dom Gil gave some orders in Portuguese, in conse- quence of which the yacht was soon a scene of bustle from stem to stern, Men ran up and down the hatches, snatched the cases off the dozen or more Gatlings with whicb the yacht was armed, and lugged out a number of gaudily decorated camel saddles from the hold For about twenty minutes all was seeming | hurry and disorder, though in truth each man | was running to his place; and at the end of that time a flotilla of shore boats moved off from the yacht, carrying a large part of her crew and great heaps an ba rgras: while the Duke of Dia- mantina, accompanied by Dom Gil Grabador | and Clarence Hart, sat in the graceful white gigand skimmed rapidly past the other boats. larence could not help agreeing with the duke’s eulogy of Dom Gil, Tiat person was in- deed a man of wonderful energy. He had en- aged every camel in Tuat and sent forward a forrentin to bid for forage on the road, had hired guides and scouts in profusion, and had | the whole caravan ready to start in less than an pour from the time they had left the yacht’s deck, They were a sufficiently formidable array and armed with all the latest improvements in weapons of precision, while eight bright gleam- ing mitrailleurs gleamed from the camel saddles at intervals along the column, where donkeys and other beasts of burden alternated with men on foot. The duke himself, no longer in_his simple dark-blue yachting suit, was mounted on a swift dromedary, covered with magnificent housings, and seemed to Clarence for the first time to deserve the title of the ‘Diamond Duke.” His costume was that of an Oriental cavalier, with pointed steel, helmet, mail-coat, turban, heron-p umes, oo and full trowsers, high enameled boots, all of his dress gleamin with jewels, while the handle of his sword an the butts of his pistols and carbine fairly blazed with brilliants. He looked asif he had set himself up on high, taunting the covetous Arabs with his wealth, and daring them to take it if they. could. Dom Gil, on another dromedary, went trot- ting around the caravan, as busy and anxious 9s a hen with a new brood, getting everything into shape for their journey. Since the duke had spoken to him of Clarence, he had kept near the young man, asif to protect him, occa- sionally making suggestions and giving advice, in his quaint Portuguese-English, which Hart found it convenient to adopt. Now at last they were clear of Tuat, and stretching out over the mud flat toward the mountains, when Dom Gil pulled up his camel by the duke’s side and said in a low tone: “The Sultan of Dereeyab has had spies on the yacht for a month, ani we shall have a fight to get out of the city; though they have determined to let us in peaceably. The duke answered, tranquilly: **So much the worse for them.” CHAPTER VIII. FYZOUL ABDALLAH. Fyzovunt ABDALLAH, Sultan of the Wahabee kingom of Dereeyah, whose name is a terror from Oman to the Djowt, was watching bis horses exercise in the park, when his favorite slave, Seyd, brought him a letter from Nubar al Hayzari, (the left-handed) his prime minister, which caused him to smile ina peculiarly evil fashion and remark piously: ‘‘God is Most Great and the Infidels are in our hands.” Fyzoul Abdallah was a tall and well-made man, with keen, regular features and coal-black beard, and yet the general in:pression made by his appearance was always repulsive and fear- inspiring to strangers, There was a certain length and gps sew to his half-closed eyes, a cruel, sensual curl to his red, voluptuous lips, that told of the irresponsible despot, given to debauchery. Yot Fyzoul Abdallah was known through all Arabia as a Wahabee of Wahabees, as strict in his devotions and fastings, purifications and orayers, as a Puritan in the days of Cromwell. he Wahabees have always been the fanatical Puritans of Moslemism; and Fyzoul Abdallah gained his power and popularity by being stricter than any of his predecessors, : He was the originator of the renowned Stick Committee, composed of the most sedate and sober eldes of the city of Dereeyah, whose business it is to patrol the streets while the faith- ful are at prayer in the mosque, and to punish any one found outside during prayer time. © Stick Committee put down all dissent in Dereeyah by the simple process of beating the offender within an inch of bis life; and never a villain in all the city but would run like a hare | when he saw the white beards of the Stick Com- mittee turn the corner, coming toward him, Fyzoul Abdallah had abolished the wearing of gold and silver in his city, and silk was only permitted to men of piety—what our Metho- dists would cail *‘ professing” members of the church, Wine was never heard of in public, though some of the graccless sinners in neighboring towns hinted that there were private wine-cel- lars in Dereeyah, even under Fyzoul Abdallah’s castle, In short, the city was the worthy capital of Wahabeeism; for never a laugh was heard in its streets from morning to night, and the sound of prayer was incessant. Every face was grave, every eye downcast, as if at a perpetual revival meeting. Fyzoul Abdallah, nevertheless, had an un- deniably villainous grin on his face as he read Nubar al Hayzari’s letter. He was a very hely man; but he had an unfortunate expression, ** Allah has given this infidel fool into our hands, Seyd,” he observed, to the black, whom he allowed much license. ‘‘It seems that Haroun, the pearl-dealer, has decoyed him hither aftcr a white girl slave that is on the way.’ ‘She is here,” interrupted Seyd, showing his white teeth. ‘‘The camels were inside the palace gate, and the white girl had taken off her vail, the bold hussy! when I saw her.” ‘*Indeed?” asked the king. **Yes, dread lord; and the elders of the stick soon made her put up the vail again. She look- ed pale and sick, I suppose with the heat; but they soon beat her into submission.” zoul Abdallah grinned again. “Tt is well not to give women much head, Seyd. Astick for the ass and the woman are never out of place.” The face of the black was more openly vil- lainous than that of his master, and the pair looked as they were, a blot on the face of one of the fairest scenes in Nature. The interior Highlands of Arabia, under their native title of Et Nedjed (The High), are still more deserving of the appellation given them by the old geographers, Arabia Felix, Ha; y, Arabia; or, as Pope puts it: ** Araby the Blat 2 With an elevation such as to temper the heat; abundance of little lakes formed by depressions in the mountains; a soil teeming with mere the whole face of the country is covered with walled towns, small and great, where the people maintain to-day the same civilization which their ancestors taught Europe. To those who are accustomed to associate sandy deserts, ragged Bedouins, flocks of cam- els and predatory tribes with the name of Arab, a visit to the provinces,of Yemama, De- reeyah and the Djowf would like a revela- tion of fairyland.- The only trouble about the visit lies in the fierce fanaticism of the Waha- bees, who suspect all Europeans to be spies. Shut out by their own jealousy from foreign influence and compelled to depend entirely on their own resources, the high-bred Arabs of the pure old stock remain as they were in the days of the Crusades, glorying in their lineage, and calling themselves Arab el Arabah, “ Arabs of the Arabs.” Dereeyah is in the richest part of the Nedjed, a walled city of fiity thousand people, rebuilt since its destruction by Ibrahim Pasha in 1818; full of handsome houses and gardens, and al- most hidden from view by the mass of palms figs, walnuts and olives that surround it on all sides. The sparkle of innumerable waters shows where the brooks are compelled to wind in and out in their artificial channels to irri- gate the fields of cotton, sorghum, maize, wheat and barley; while the air is heavy with the per- fume of roses, jasmines, and innumerable spice groves, Fyzoul Abdallah’s summer palace stands on a precipitous bluff that commands most of the city, and is a large andimposing though gloomy building, built in the twelfth century for a cas- tle, and never much changed, Below the castle, on the side away from the city, stretch the king’s park and stables, and here Fyzonl Abdallah keeps his crowning glory of glories, his horses, Sanctimonious scoundrel though he be, the King of Dereeyah can defy the whoie world to show such horses asthese. The glory of Epsom and Monmouth Park, the kings of the turf in England and Kentucky, cannot compete with the swift beauties of Fyzoul Abdallah’s stud. There are fine horses among the Bedouins of the Euphrates, handsome chargers in the Djowf; but the pure Arabian of Nedjed is above all, end cannot be purchased for money. Success- ful war or a present of ceremony to a distin- guished person may draw one of these beauties at long intervals from its native home, but no foreigner has ever been able to obtain more than one at a time, so jealousare the Arabs of the preservation of this matchless breed in their own hands. : While Fyzoul Abdallah was talking in his usual familiar manner to black Seyd, the grooms were taking the whole of his stud to water, some four or five hundred. stallions and mares, gray, bay and chestnut, tie latter colors redomina ; and a racing jockey would ave been y to kneel down and worship ev- ery one of the slim, spirited creatures that can- tered by, tossing their pointed muzzles to and fro, snorting and shaking their long silk manes, seen we — master _— pan dark eyes, and neighing a greeting as they Neomthe- Such horses would fetch enough at auction in New York to bankrupt Vanderbilt.
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ec Pa pommemnanaiedanbadkaentienemenatientatemenenati: coach nea Leena) al OEE is Oe SR ae ‘a i a es 7 ' -almost as smooth, bearing the king up to the Oe ae But, while we are ecstasizing over the horses -—forgive us, for we love a beautiful horse—F'y- zoul Abdallah is reading over his letter again and chuckling immensely at the news it con- tains. Itr : “Father of the faithful Wahabees; the Christian Jord they call the Jeweled Prince is within sight of | Dereeyah, and has sent Haroun,the Pearl-Dealer as | his embassador to ask an audience to ransom the white girl who hes just arrived. He has a numer- | ous company with him, but they are not white devils. I have given him permission to come into tho city and we will quarter him in the court_below the old palace, where we can pick his bones when he eep.” The king was so much pleased with the last sentence that Le read it over aloud to Seyd, re- marking: “Nubar Al Hayzari is a wise man. This Lord of the Jewels has been spying round our coasts long enough. Now he has run his head | into the lion’s mouth, and we will see if he gets out so easily. Have you seen his caravan, Seyd?” ‘No, dread lord; but Haroun’s people say ‘that they have enough guns to arm all our ” Fyzoul Abdallah smiled his most evil smile, as he observed: “Guns are no use to sleepers, and if they patheg ,wake we shall have the weapons—eh, Y yd laughed heartily in the shrill, unnatural ‘tones of his class, and the king turned away to walk back to his summer castle; when his eye was caught by the glitter of arms at the out- skirts of | his own park coming directly toward ‘the castle. ‘* Who is it dares come in, that way?” he an- erly asked Seyd. The black stared that way, as much amazed as his master. He knew that the waterin pools lay there and that access to the roy stud from that direction was a matter punish- able with death. There, however, plain and unmistakable in the sun was the glitter of arms; and a crowd of camels and men on horseback could be seen rapidly advancing over the undu- lating green k, while the whole of Fyzoul’s ‘stud, huddled into a confused mob, was gal- loping away from before the advancing cara- van. The king stamped his foot with fury, and his countenance lowered till it looked perfectl diabolical. He snapped his fingers at Seyd, and the black understood the signal, for he ran off to the palace, whence a groom galloped out @ moment later, leading a caparisoned Arab horse, which he gave to the king. Full of anger at the audacious intrusion, Fy- -zoul Abdallah called to his horse, and away it went like an arrow from the bow, as swift and Sa front of the incoming caravan. CHAPTER IX, THE DUKE’S VISIT. Fyzovn ABDALLAH was unarmed, It had not occurred to him that he was in any sort of danger in his own capital, and his guards ought to be within easy call. When he halted in front of the caravan, therefore, it was with»' the tone of an absolute and angry despot that he shouted: “Stop, sons of burnt fathers! How dare ye enter my park? Back, all of you, if you don't | want to be made food for crows!” To his intense surprise and incredulous | amazement, the people in the caravan oe right on as if they had not heard him, and the | ‘wings on each side rode past him and lapped in | behind, when he found himself surrounded by | va circle of armed men, and confronted by a | littering figure on a white dromedary, that _ es at once r izéd from previous description | as the “‘ Lord of all Jewels,” the Arabic sobri- quet for the Duke of Diamantina. It was the duke himself, with his habitual slight smile and lazy courtesy, who addressed the king in good Arabic, marked with the Cairene accent, as Fyzoul Abdallah per- ceived. ; ‘* All the world has heard of the glory and riches of Sultan Fyzoul, whose name is the ter- ror of Arabia. I have come all the way from the other side of the earth to behold him, and I am happy at last.” Fyzoul’s face underwent several changes of expression while the duke was speaking, for he began to realize that he was, for the time be- ing, in the power of this singular man. But he was too much a master of dissimulation not to end with a smooth countenance and the re- mark: ‘My brother is very welcome, We have heard of the jewels of my_brother, «nd the reality exceeds the tale. My brother must | «come to my house, that we may eat salt to- | agether.” , Diamantina smiled and waved his hand. “Beit so. I have brought a few little hum- ‘ne presents for my brother, which I will show him when we are home.” This intelligence delighted the king, who was ef all things avaricious: and he ed his | the teeth, were The Duke of Diamonds. we ~ = horse and rode back to the palace as good-hu- moredly as if he had never been angry, and dismounted at the gate welcomed in the duke and his retinue. ‘“*But how comes it, my brother,” he asked, as they stood there, ‘that you came this way instead of by the city as I had ordered?” His tone was fpeculiar, and nov cnmenacing | as he said this; but Diamantina looked straight into his eyes, as he answered: ‘* Because 1 am a king myself, in my own land, and I have never asked the Padishah him- self for an audience. I take no words from Fg I talk to my brother kings face to ace. The glance of Fyzoul fell before his, and the Arabian looked uneasily round him. was he was almost alone in his patace, servants and guards having gone down with the minis- ter, Nubar al Hayzari, into the city, on purpose to decoy the duke and his escort into a trap of some sort, Even while he was talking, he could hear the bustle made by their hasty return, and in the meantime he was absolutely in the power of this imposing stranger. ‘The duke seemed not uninclined to make him feel this, for he continued: “My brother received a white slave to-day, stolen from her own and my people, by Haroun, the pearl-dealer. I hope that my brother will allow me to give a ransom for her.” Fyzoul waved his hand, loftily. ‘We will see, we will see. Ihave a fancy | for a white wife, who is not a Georgian or Cir- ian.” ‘* Nevertheless,” remarked the duke, tranquil- ly, “my brother will sell her to me. Sultan yzoul knows what are jewels. I will give him this saber for the girl.” The king’s eyes glittered with avarice as he | looked at the saber the other took from a slave and showed him, for the bilt and scabbard were of gold, and blazed with diamonds, emeralds, and rubies. “That were indeed a present fit for one king to give another,” he remarked, in his most oily manner, but Diamantina only smiled bis usual quiet and unruffled smile, as he waved the slave back with the saber. ‘In my land, kings never give arms to their friends. We have a saying that a sharp blade cuts friendship. Ihave a robe of honor for my brother, but my arms are for barter for goods that my brother has.” He had taken his seat unbidden, on the divan by the king’s side, at the upper end of the hall, and Dom Gil, with Clarence and some thirty men of the yacht’s crew, all armed to ouped near by in the hall when Nu al Hayzari, pale and breathless, | entered the hallin haste, followed by a crowd of excited Arabs, with naked swords in their ss and stopped in mute astonishment at the sight. : Tho duke sat close to Fyzoul, and never deign- ed to turn his head as the Arabs entered. 6 knew, from his guide, that firearms were scarce in the city, owing to the isolation of the Nedjed, and he could trust to Dom Gil not to allow hi to be surprised. ‘My brother is a great king and he will send | for the white woman,” remarked the Duke of Diamantina, in his most quiet tones; but the quick ear of Fyzoul Abdallah caught. the click of pistol-locks all round him, as the Brazilian’s retinue edged in closer round him. Two great drops of sweat rolled down the king’s forehéad, and he answered, in a con- strained tone: ‘Be it as you will, Tell Nubar al Hayzari, and he will obey the order.” Diamantina beckoned to his little black slave, who handed him a piece of paper, covered with Arabic words, together witb an ink-horn of true Arabian fashion. ‘*My brother’s signet on this order will bring a slave,” he said, quietly, ‘‘and the saber is is. For a moment Fyzoul Abdallah looked round | like a hunted animal seeking a way to escape, but met only stern, impassive faces, and hands thrust into broad sashes on pistol butts. Then he gave a heavy sigh and took off his eg ring, with which he stamped the paper, after a hasty perusal. It was an order, ready written, calling for the slave just purchased of Haroun, the l-merchant. The duke handed it to Dom Gil, who at once stalked over to where Nubar and the guards, completely dumbfounded, stood hesitating whe- ther to fight or not. _The long lanky Brazilian waved the paper before him and spoke aloud: **Put up your swords. I have an order from Sultan Fyzoul.” The sound of their master’s name had a magi- cal effect on the Arabs, for Nubar bowed his | face to the earth immediately and the uards sheathed their swords in silence as Dom dil con- tinued: ‘“My master, the ite of Jewels, has come to visit his brother, the king of Dereeyah. My | master’s men will guard the king while they are talking over a treaty between their king- doms, In the meantime conduct me where this order tells you.” where he cordially | The fact | Nubar al Hayzari placed his hands on his head in token of obedience and preceded Dom Gilfrom the room, while the duke turned to the king and resumed their interrupted conver- | sation as if at home on his yacht. Se brother is very kind to me, and I | should like much to see his horses, Will Sul- tan Fyzoul give orders to have them dis- . sar hea e king eagerly assented, for he was proud of his stud and longed to be on horseback once | more. He flattered himself they could not trap him a second time, The duke made no objection as the king rose and went out of the castle, whem he called to his grooms to bring out the horses; and as for Clarence Hart, the American could not kee back a cry of delight and wonder as the beauti- De creatures were trotted out for inspec- on. Fyzoul Abdallah noticed it and an evil smile crossed his face as he asked the duke whether his friend “ would not like to try one of the horses.” Clarence, when the words were interpreted to him, positively trembled with eagerness, but Diamantina laid his hand softly on the young man’s shoulder as he said in English: ‘*My dear sir, do not think of it. Wehavea delicate game to os , and I would not like to lose you, Yous ride one of these horses, | but not now. They wish to entice you away and hold you for a hostage.” | peta eretaseatneee nem To the king he said coolly in Arabic: “‘This is my servant. In my country, none ride but theking.” “Then let us both ride, my brother,” was the crafty response. ‘‘I will tell them to saddle AlSabok and Hamama forus. They are the flower of the stud.” The duke made no objection, and at a I from Fyzoul the grooms led forward a y stallion with black points whose grace and symmetry exceeded anything the other had ever seen before. This was Al Sabok (the Swift), who, if his looks belied him not, was the king of all horses. Beside him was a mare, equally beaut but of a delicate bluish y, who went by the title of Hamama (the ove.) Diamantina looked at her keenly and then re- marked to Fyzoul; ‘“Your mare is not as good as your horse. She has had her shoulder sprained, for I see the old mark of a blister.” For a moment Fyzoul looked ashamed, not ef the trick, but of being found out; then he said harshly to the groom: ** Fool, that’s not Hamama, I mean. It was Al Kader (the Clever One) that I bid thee bring. Saddle quickly.” This time it was a chestnut horse much like Al Sabok that came forward, but here again the duke’s eye critically examining the animal saw the streaks of the firing-iron inside the off hock. He said nothing, however, till the king courteously waved him forward, saying: **Mount, my brother. Al Kader is a swallow for speed, a goat for his sure fect.” “‘ Nevertheless,” answered the duke, suitin the action to the word, ‘I would rather try ‘AL Sabok.” And in a moment he was in the saddle, © Fyzoul Abdallah’s face contorted itself into a , hideous writhing smile of disappointed malig- | nity as he slowly mounted Al Kader, for he — that his plan was discovered, but he made 10 remark as the duke rode out into the park, leaving Clarence Hart in command of the - ple of the yacht, gathered around the hall daa mside while their camels were lying down out- side. The king noticed with wonder the bright mitrailleurs on the saddles of some of the | camels. He understood their use at once, for the Persians have used camel guns called zam- | boureks for more than a century, but the pecu- | liar sbape of the Gatling gun puzzled him. ‘* What are those, my brother?” he asked, The duke made a quiet signal to the nearest man who stood by his kneeling camel’s side, and instantly the gun was slewed round on its swivel and pointed into the park. “Would the sultan like to see my killing machines ?’ asked the Brazilian, languidly. “Let him put his whole army out in the par and I can mow them down like grass with those my guns. ‘See that tree yonder. My man shall “Fle pointed out the tree to: the artil e@ pointed out the tree e artilleryman, to whom he spoke in Hindostanee, and the man saluted respectfully, pointed his gun, and turn- ed the crank of the already loaded machine. The effect on the sultan was complete. He saw the steady stream of bullets go slappin | into the little tree with a ceaseless flow th it | to = and fell, and his face turned of a gray | pallor as he said, race “This is the work of Eblis. You area mighty cian.” . The duke stopped the firing with one of his silent signals, “That is a show you what I can doif I am attacked. Here comes my officer with the woman, I see.” Dom Gil was mdeed coming back.
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= << CHAPTER X. THE FLOWER OF CALCUTTA. Wirth Dom Gil came a single female figure elosely vailed, and the Duke of Diamantina lai his hand softly on the king’s bridle and said, gently but firmly: “ Come, my brother, you have lost a trouble- ~ gome woman and gained a faithful sword. Let us go in,” he barbarian—for Fyzoul was, after all, a barbarian—was sufficiently cowed by the civil- ized man to yield in silence, and the duke rode up to the hall door and dismounted after the king, who tamely reéntered the castle. As they went in, Clarence heard Diamantina say in English to Dom Gil: ‘ Seize them at once.” Dom Gil nodded, and then Clarence forgot everything else in the interest excited by the yailed figure that had just been ushered into the 1. The duke beckoned him forward to the dais where the woman was already standing, and then said in English: “T will beg the lady to take off her vail that Senhor Hart may be able to see if she is his friend.” Immediately the woman unvailed,.and Cla- rence saw before him the Flower of Calcutta, pale and sad, as if she had no hope for life. Poor Helen flushed scarlet when she met the eyes of the Brazilian. It was evident that no one had told her anything of what was about to happen, and the surprise of hearing her own language in such a scene was great. Then she recognized Clarence Hart beside the duke, and her eyes lighted up again with hope, for ae began to realize that ransom was at nd. The Duke of Diamantina looked at her pale beautiful face fora moment with undisguise admiration and surprise, and then asked Hart: “(My dear sir, will you introduce me to this lady so unfortunate?” Stammering—he hardly knew why—and feel- ing strangely embarrassed, Hart repeated the formal words, that sounded so unnatural in that wild hold of Arabian desperadoes. ** Miss Lawton, the Duke of Diamantina.” Helen started and looked at the other with swimming eyes, her face all suffused with . blushes. ‘*Oh, senhor duke,” she said, in a stifled voice, ‘‘I never expected to see you in such a place as this.” Diamantina had taken the opportunity of fix- ing his eyes on hers while sh» spoke, as if in payiug strict attention; but thera was some- thing so singular in his glance that Helen’s blush grew deeper and deeper, and she finally drop- ped her eyes in confusion, The Brazilian, with the cool, unruffled ease which always marked him, bowed low before her and replied: ‘* Ma dear ladee, I am charmed to be able to do a slig .t service to one so well known as the daughter of that eminent person, Sare Lomley Lawtone.” She looked up in quick surprise. “Oh, sir, do you know my poor darling fa- ther? ‘What would he say if he knew the dan- 3 er I have run? Perhaps you have a father, E , your grace?” Diamantina’s face altered, and a reserved, of- fended expression crossed it as he turned away, saying eurtly: ‘My father is dead, mademoiselle.” Fyzoul Abdallah had listened to this English conversation in dumb embarrassment, still sur- Ry rounded by the duke’s people, for his own men i did not know what to do. . They saw their master seated quietly on the divan in the midst of the white strangers, to all 7 ap nee chatting with the jeweled chief, c and they did not dare to make a fight on ac- count of his risk. 4 Now, however, Diamantina altered his tone. He ordered bis men to draw away from Fy- “x zoul, and beckoned Nubar al Hayzari and his 7 ards to surround their king once more in the fall, which they eagerly hastened to do. He laid the jeweled saber at Fyzoul’s feet, and drew back to the door of the hall, saying, in a clear and distinct voice: “‘Our bargain is ended, brother. I have the ‘ slaves; you have the price of them, Now ih let us have peace and friendship, while I show ; my brother the presents I have brought to De- reeyah.” , < But, already Fyzoul Abdallah was a different a man. His guards were round him and a way of “a retreat was open; so that his fears vanished and his malice arose in arms. He had been cheated and cowed by this stranger, and had i bought himself out of his power. Now was the ‘Zs time to be revenged. Turning to Nubar al Hayzari, he whispered: ** Rouse all the city. Seize the es. Let not one man escape. We will have all their riches now.” Nubar nodded and slipped away among the guards while Fyzoul replied to the duke in his bs. most oily manner: a “ Let us not think of presents when one great « king visits another. My brother inust eat with | ————sgme at once, Ho! Seyd, bring in the dishes uickly. The Lord of Jewels dines with the ord of Horses.” But to his surprise Diamantina did not offcr to stir from the door, and a smile not devoid of derision was on his face as he answered: **T have heard too much of Fyzoul Abdallah’s fare to be anxious to eat thereof, I might not sleep easily at night after it. I will give my presents and take my leave, for my home is on the sea,” Fyzoul Abdallah was not at all put out. He was too consummate a villain and too secure in his own power to fear the duke’s ultimate es- cape, though he felt a little virtuous anxiety to absorb his possessions by the safe way of poison rather than trust to the chances of ambushing the caravan on its way to Tuat. He concealed all this anxiety under a smooth exterior, bowing and smiling: ‘‘Since my brother is desirous to return to Tuat, far be it from me to detain him. My oung men shall ride to the coast with him, and me away all the robbers on the road.” This time the duke smiled so openly that Fyzoul could no longer think he was being de- ceived. ‘My own men and my camel guns can clear a road to Tuat,” he replied. “I am trul thankful to my brother for his hospitality. notice that he has but few camels. I hope he will accept with favor this my little present.” He waved his hand, and into the hall sham- bled all the camels and donkeys with which his caravan had been provided, saving the gun ani- mals and their followers that had been loaded with ammunition. The donkeys were all un- saddled, but the riding camels were still hand- somely caparisoned, and over the housings of the foremost—the same lately ridden by the duke—was hung a splendid robe of scarlet silk with a velvet mantle above it. Fyzoul Abdallah started to his feet, feeling that he was being tricked and insulted, but ex- actly how he knew not; and his guards instinc- tively drew their cimeters to keep off the irrup- tion of beasts of burden. The duke stood alone in the open doorway and waved his hand ironically to the sultan. ‘* Farewell, my brother,” he said. ‘ Iam in eat haste to reach Tuat; therefore I shall ride Al Sabok myself. Ileave you Al Kader and Hamama. They were very good animals, twen- ty Pedy ago.” nen he vanished out of the doorway, and the astounded king clapped his hands to his head and yelled in despair, as the full force of the situation struck him: ‘* Allah’s curse upon them! They have stolen my horses!” And indeed there was no sort of doubt about it. The frantic Fyzoul rushed to the door, aud saw that the whole of his stud was in the foe’s possession, vanishing with the speed of the wind in the direction of the Tuat road! Al Kader and Hamama, the only two blem- ished animals of the entire stable, were still standing at the door. Diamantina had left be- hind him convincing proofs of his knowledge of horseflesh. For several minutes the Arab chief was so ut- terly overwhelmed by the suddenness of the blow that he could do nothing but tear his beard in impotent rage. Then Nubar al Hayzari, who had paused and come back at the sound of the escape, ventured to speak to his master, and his words were full of astute consolation. * Allis not lost, my master; they can go no faster than the camels with the zamboureks ;” (thus he called the Gatlings). ‘‘ We can take them all back in. the passes, Al Kader will stand a day’s work, yet.” Fyzoul listened, and his face cleared up a lit- tle. After all, a blemished Nedjed horse is swifter than a perfectanimal of any other breed. “Take him and go,” was all he said in answer to Nubar, and the minister answered: *On thy head be it.” A moment later he was flying toward the city like the wind. Al Kader had been fired fora spavin, it is true; but no one would have dreamed of it to see the way the beautiful crea- ture skimmed over the ground, as swift at twenty-two as the best colt in the Derby entries. In the meantime, as Nubar had from the first predicted, the caravan of Diamantina could ad- vance no faster than the pace of the camels that bore the Gatling guns; which, with their sad- dles anil riders, weighed about four bundred pounds. A burden camel will carry twice as much, but its pace is slow; andif pressed toa trot it cannot preserve that pace to any distance without great distress. Nevertheless Dom Gil, who had assumed the management of the caravan, kept up a rapid amble all that afternoon, till the shades of eve- ning closed around them, when the camels be- gan to flag and fall, and a halt was called. It was in an open valley, where a large spring gave birth toa running rivulet, that the cara- van of Diamantina now went into camp, the gun camels being unloaded, and the dont mi- trailleurs trained to command all the approach- es, Not an Arab had been seen al day, and Hart remarked to the duke; a aaa a a eed “We seem te have given them the slip at last,, senhor duque.” Diamantina smiled as he answered, in his: tranquil way: ' ‘*My dear sir, our danger begins to-night.” “‘Then do you think there is danger that we may not reach the coast?” ‘* My dear sir,” was the quiet answer, ‘‘ we shall reach the coast—some of us. It is a ques-. tion how many will do it, alive.” CHAPTER XI. THE ENCAMPMENT. As the sun went down that night it left the moon in the zenith, half full, and under her mild beams the camp was soon in fair order. Clarence had noticed, when leaving the yacht, that the duke was traveling very light, having hardly any of the baggage one might expect from one of his luxurious habits. A single tent of silk, very light and compact, was all that he carried besides food, and this was at once appropriated to the use of the res- cued Helen, who was secluded in true Oriental fashion. eK, be rapid ride from Dereeyah, Clarence Hart had not had a single opportunity to speak to the woman he loved, though he had longed ge ings wee todoso. He had seen her pla by the duke’s own hands on one of Fyzoul’s horses, and, from that t:me forth, Diamantina had remained close to her side, from which the respect of etiquette banished every one else, rence himself felt this restraint as strongly as any one, though he fought against it, and strove to, muster piterky, enough to ride up be- side Helen and engage herin conversation. He tried to argue with himself that he was the Brazilian’s equal, that he had not yet acce the post of secretary to the whims of a million- aire. It was allin vain. A subtle influence that he could not divine, kept him divided from the woman he loved, and he was compelled to ride in the rear, out of earshot, while Helen was con- versing in the most animated manner with this r nerbie handsome man, this combination of roesus and Adonis, who could do anything he leased with almost any woman he met, as. arence bitterly thought. In fact, the young man, having once saved this girl’s life and having good reason to believe that she was not indifferent to him, was now miserably jealous, and began to feel all the love and admiration he had felt for Diamantina rap- idly turning to bitter hatred. Nevertheless, such was the fascination of this singular man over all around him, that no soon- er did Hart listen to his melodious ‘‘ Ma dear sare,” and see his wonderful smile when he spoke to him at the halt, than all his uneasiness van- ished to the winds, and he felt ready to follow Diamantina wherever he chose to lead. All the same, however, the duke effectually debarred him from seeing Helen; for no sooner did she dismount, than the tent was raised, into which the lady was ushered by Diamantina himself, after which she was no more seen that night, except by the duke’s little black boy, who. took them in their supper. Clarence would have fretted at this, had it not been for the exquisite tact of the duke, who kept him in conversation, asking him his opin- ‘ion of this and that, strolled with him round the defenses of the little camp, and gave him charge of two of the 8, with the remark: ‘* My dear sir, I shall hold you responsible if the Arabs get in on your side. We havea precious treasure to guard, and we must not go to sleep, or Fyzoul Abdallah will wake us up when the moon sets,” Clarence caught at two of the other’s words, and echoed: ** A precious treasure, indeed. Oh, senhor, if you knew how precious she is to me! I saved er from the sea once, God grant I do it from the Arabs.” Diamantina leaned his hand on the shoulder of the American, as he answered: ‘My dear sir, she may be precious to you;. but, I warn you, keep from her, as you value your happiness! She shall be saved, and I will Re her back to her father, if it costs me the ives of every manhere, But, take my advice, and think no more of this lady.” Clarence looked at the Brazilian in some sur- prise, and managed to answer: “Why do you say this to me, your grace?” ‘* Because I see that you are bent on making yourself miserable,” was the quiet xen se | dear sir, you are an American, and I love all Americans for the sake of on» to whom I owe my life and liberty. You do not know these Eng- lish asl do, Sir, they are as cruel as the tiger, as selfish as the swine, Do you think that this Sir Lumley Lawton would give you his daughter because you leved her and she loved you? No no, my dear sir! That man would sell bis child to Satan himself, if the dark gentleman would put on the likeness of a lord with plentee monce. Sir, be advised. Leave these English to them- selves, for there is a curse upon them—a curse that will yet wither and blast them to ashes and dust!’ / . The American gazed with wonder on Dia- mantina, for bis usually calm and frigid man- earnestness, ner had changed to one of intense
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The Duke of Diamonds. ; and his eyes glowed like burning coals as he gesticulated with true southern fervor. “Ah, your grace,” returned Clarence, in a melancholy tone, ‘‘ 1 know that I have little or no hope in loving this lady, but my heart is stronger than nh sense. 1 cannot help loving her. Is she not lovely?’ Diamantina shrugged his shoulders and re- E tired into his usual frigid mask. 5 ‘*My dear sir, I never argue. Be pleased to see to your duties on this side the = These men understand English. Most of them are Lascars or ex-sepoys.”’ With a slight military salute he left Clarence to his own devices, and strolled off to the other sideof the camp, where he could be seen in close conversation with Dom Gil. Clarence Hart, abashed to a degree he could hardly have deemed possible by the quiet au- thority of a man he had only known about five days, attended to his duties in silence. The camp was laid out with a strict view to defense. The horses were fastened around an inner square, eating their barley with the vigor- ous appetite of Arabians, and around them was drawn a chain of sentries, each man sheltered behind a little pile of saddles on which he could rest his rifle. The Gatlings occupied the angles of the defense, placed in pairs, and the ground on the outside was clear and level, though the camp itself was full of palm-trees around the spring. The only weak point in the defense was in the direction of the little stream that issued from the spring. This was fringed with bushes that spread out at intervals into thickets and might possibly conceal lurking foes, though as yet Grey had seen none. } larence, with the truly American instinct - of distrusting a cover near camp, thought he would go over to Dom Gil and ask whether he a= : might not have these bushes cut down. e Brazilian seemed to understand English better than he spoke it, for he nodded assent to Hart’s reasonings, but for all that he replied: ‘* Oh, senhor duque say no. Ze Arab-a s’all-a come-a dat vay, ’e be all-a right-a.” , . “Tt will be all right if they come in that way? y But they can reach the camp in the dark per- ha “ ” om Gil laughed, “Perhaps-al Ves’allsee. Go to your posk-a. Ze moon ’e s’all get low at dis hour.” Repelled again, for Dom Gil’s manner was de- zs cidedly brusque, Hart went back to his post - ; which was at one of the angles overlooking the stream, Dom Gil occupying the other side, while the duke himself could be seen walking up and a down the opposite face of the camp. -_ _ ‘The moon was now hanging just above the mountains that hid them from Dereeyah and had not more than five minutes to —_~ when 3 the whole valley suddenly started into life with BS a motley throng of Arabs coming from the hills \ E all round, on horseback, on foot and camel- : - back, rushing to and fro, yelling loudly and firing into the pone § BY Where a moment before had been peace, Pan- A demonium now reigned supreme. “ As long as the moon remained in sight the as- sailants kept from a close assault; but as soon as it sunk, and darkness fell over the valley, .. ae down they came with a swoop, and Clarence a. could see their white cloaks flitting past within Be kes a few yards, while the bullets from their long muskets went singing overhead. But all this while the camp remained per- fectly silent. : The cooking fires had been extinguished with ay water long before. the aim of the Arabs was 2 bad, and the only danger threatening the camp was that of a hand-to-hand fight in which num- bers might crush them. From this they were saved a moment later. Up from the midst of tae camp soared a rocket with a sudden hiss that scared the Arabs, who had never seen anything of the sort before, and when it exploded it left in the air not merely a shower of stars but a blue light mded from T°; Bis a tin parachute that illumined the valley for 5 seve hundred yards round, discovering a swarm of Arabs, oa CHAPTER XII. — RUNNING THE GANTLET. “y Inro this mass of foes at pistol range, eight e vatlings and some forty Winchester rifles sud- oh denly opened fire, pouring in a storm of missiles that cleft the mass as a stream of water might ¥ dissolve a bank of new-fallen snow! ; = Only an instant they stood and then fled in $5 | wild confusion, the pitiless fire of the beleaguer- =a ed band pursuing them under the light of three Sa fas more blue-light rockets, and leaving the whole “2 , valley strewn with dead bodies of men and ani- Is. : ss For a little while the noise was deafening, and 4 then the lights went out and silence fell over ‘ the camp, only broken by the pitiful cries of €., the wounded outside left behind by their com- rades, <: , Clarence had been too busy at his own post to nee: attend to anything else, and he was considerably Sa ear the voice of Diamantina close startled to ' $0 his elbow in the darkness, saying: “My dear sir, they will not come back to- night. They will make their next stand in the | Pass of El] Katif.” “Ts your grace satisfied of that?” ‘So much so that lam going to sleep. Did you notice how wild they i ‘Yes. Do they always do that?” ‘My dear sir, you do not understand. They dare not fire low for fear of the horses. They hoped to rush in and frighten them into run- ning, but they have trained them too well to frighten at firing. Those horses will buy us the road to the sea, my dear sir.” And the facts proved Diamantina to be right. Not only did the Arabs disturb them no more that night but next morning found the valley empty even of the dead bodies, which had been carried off, while the whole country was desert- Ses crocandid Seine a tae pass ey pr eisurely.on their way, - ing a dant village and a town of no mean pre- tensions, in both of which they saw nothing but women and children; and noticed that all the operations of seers seemed to be entirely suspended. very able-bodied. man in the eountry had vanished, and even Clarence could not avoid a feeling of apprehension at the un- wonted stillness. That night they halted among rocks in the ruins of an old castle, and found to their sur- prise a store of barley for the horses with an Arabic legend above it to the effect; ‘Allah will accept even a Christian who is kind to a horse.”’ It was evident that Fyzoul Abdallah was trembling for the fate of his darling horses, and willing to make almost any sacrifice to get them back. Clarence could not wonder at Fis anxiety when he looked at the beautiful crea- tures round him, They were born war-horses. Not a symptom of fatigue appeared in any one of them, though they had marched forty miles a day. On the contrary, most of them were fretting for a gallop in the evening, and he felt certain that but for the gun camels, they could have been at Tuat in a single day’s ride, No disturbance came near them that night nor in the morning till they had come within about ten miles of Tuat, and approached the moet the Highlands by the narrow pass of El tif. Here at last they found their foes to the num- ber of several thousand men, horse, Soot and camel riders, spread over the rocks aroand the pass and evidently determined to stop further advance, Clarence looked at them and felt a sinking of his heart, for it seemed impossible for their lit- tle handful of men to make any head against such a vast host. Not so Dom Gil and the duke, who advanced with perfect coolness till within about a quarter of a mile of the Arab host, when the gun cam- els were brought into line and Dom Gil rode forward alone, waving a white handkerchief on a cane, as if to invite a parley, while the cara- van halted. The Arabs on their side seemed to be sage willing to talk peace, for they did not offer to fire, anda party came forward to meet Dom Gil. At their head was Fyzoul Abdallah him- self, mounted on Al Kader, and his tones were full of eagerness as he asked: “Will the Lord of Jewels yield? I do not wish to kill my brother.” ‘*My master demands free for him- self and his men to the sea,” was Dom Gil’s only reply ‘He bas stolen my horses. Will he give them up?” asked Fyzoul, ‘When they have carried him to the sea; not before.” ‘Will he give them 4 then?” ‘* He will, all but a horse and two mares, which he retains as an indemnity for the attack on his camp.” ‘* Then he shall never see the coast,” cried Fy- zoul, indignantly. ‘‘I will cut out his heart with my own hand.” Dom Gil laughed contemptuously in the Arab’s face. He knew that a high tone imposes on barbarians. ‘*Dog of an Arab,” he answered, “‘if I raise my hand now you die before you can reach your own men. Do you not see my master’s guns are trained on you?” Fyzoul paled as he looked over at the eight mitrailleurs grinning toward him, He had seen them at work before. “Now hearken to what my master will do,” continued the Brazilian odicer, harshly. ‘“ We are about to advance in column through your army. If they draw back and let us pass to our ships we will turn the horses loose on the beach for you. If you conclude to fight, each man has an order to shoot his horse dead and make a breastwork of his body, after which we shall mow your people down as we did the other ht. “eds eyes glared with malice and terror att ane kill h I will ll ‘ ou my horses, I will roast you a ios hissed . - alive,” ‘ Dom Gil threw forward his carbine with a h, “Bay anothey word like that and I shoot yo ““Go back to your men. But Fyzoul was not the man to fight a ready foe. He preferred murdering an unwary one. Moreover, he did not like the looks of Dom bre pointing at him. ““Why should we quarrel?’ he asked, in his old oily manner. ‘‘ Let the Lord of Jewels ad- vance. My men shall not harm him if he gives up the horses as he has promised.” ‘Then order them back,” answered the po Brazilian. ‘‘If aman comes within pistol-shot, our men kill all the horses and march through on foot.” The sweat rolled down Fyzoul’s face with fear and perplertys but he was obliged to yield. Love for his horses, his most precious possoayion. overpowered everything else and e reluctantly consented to the terms im . Ten minutes later the Arabs had left the pass free and the whole of Diamantina’s caravan de- filed safely through, each mounted man holding a cocked pistol close to the head of his mouzt while the Arabs watched the maneuver in dumb dismay. Before night they had reached the yacht in safety. . CHAPTER XIII, H. M. 8. SNAPPER. COMMANDER OWEN LawTOoN, R. N., was cing the weather side of the quarter-deck of H. M. Gunboat Snapper, four guns, as that re nowned and conspicuously neat vessel made her way toward Aden where she was to coal for her homeward warnee.. The Snapper had been out two years cruising off Zanzibar after slavers, and it was Com- mander Lawton’s boast that he had done more work than all the rest put together, and had practically put down the slave-trade on the east coast of Africa. » ““Pve earned my furlough, by Jove!” he re- marked to Lieutenant Sloman his executive officer, about fifteen times a day, ‘“‘and b Jove I’ve got a right to crow over the others.” To which Sloman invariably replied: ‘“*T think so too, captain.” Commander Lawton was known in the ser- vice by two appellations. His superiors called him ‘‘a promising officer ;” his suordinates, es- ially those before the mast, voted him to be ‘a Tartar.” His discipline was severe, his tem- per domineering, and he was but little liked, though his ability was respected. As he walked the quarter-deck of the Snap- per, his sharp, haughty face, with its bushy red side-whiskers and clean-shaven lips and chin, looked forbidding enough to justify the awe with which he was regarded by every one in the vessel except Sloman. His spy-glass lay on the og A ad there had been nothing in sight all.the morning to justify its use, and Commander Lawton was in a brown study when he wasstartled by the mu- sical cry of the look-out coming down from the fore cross-trees: ‘* Sail ho!” ‘* Where, where?” he asked, sharply, snatch- ing up his glass in a moment. : Tuner points off the lee bow, sir. Looks like a felucca going to Aden.” The captain leveled the glass in the direction indicated, and beheld three white lateen sails shining in the sun some twelve miles away, trimmed flat as if the felucca was going tocross his course. “Crack on all she'll bear, Sloman, and tell the oe to get up steam,” said the captain to his first officer, and the crew of the Snapper began to spreada number of staysails, while stokers down below raked out the ashes from the banked-up fires under which the Sna had been cruising, while the engineer's gang the screw down into its well once more. The wind was steady and intense] the coast of Africa, thus giving the waa the weather-gage of the felucca, and the English boat soon began to glide through the water ata high rate of speed. . or the next half-hour the captain said but little, but at the end of that time the screw be- gan to revolve while the smoke from the Snap- per’s funnel showed that the engineer had got up steam at last. Soon afterward that officer touched his cap to report: ‘Steam up, sir, and only coal for an hour’s my ery good Mr. Gri ton all “Ver , Mr. Grimes; on you can and dive erahead. We'll Paton that fellow before you give out.” In fact the Snapper was running at some eighteen knots an hour, what with the wind and her steam, and every one thought they would soon overhaul the felueca, which Lawton was chasing as much for the vanity of showing the speed of his vessel as for any ulterior purpose. But, tothe surprise of Commander Lawton, after an hour had passed, and the revolutions of the screw became few and feeble, the white sails of the felucca seemed as distant as ever, and they became convinced that the Sna Ma at last beaten by some Arab eouniay hot from * _ Pest PAST Mr S tp
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10 * And yet, I never saw an Arab with such white sails,” observed Lawton to Sloman. _ “T should say she was a Greek xebec, goin back through the canal after taking a cargo o wine to Bombay,” replied the first officer. “I’ve heard that Greek wines are coming into fashion in India.” “Greek or Arab, she sails like the very | ‘deuce,” retorted Lawton, impatiently. ‘‘If we ouldn’t litt her under steam she'll drop us ‘now. Haul the screw out of water, sir. It’s doing no now. Get up the square fore- sail and clap on the stu’n-sail booms. I'll run under water but what I'll overhaul that Greek | before we get to Suez.” ‘Not if we stop at Aden, sir,” ventured Slo man. ‘The orders say—” ‘Deuce take the orders. That fellow ma =é slaver for all know. Clap on more sail, The Snapper heeled over under her pile of Ganvas till the water washed in at the lee scup- pers, and rushed on after the. felucca, which was now dead ahead and holding the same course asa the cruiser. But all the sails of the Snapper were of no avail to catch the light-heeled stranger which on the contrary began to sink on the horizon before their eyes just as the white and yellow outlines of the Arabian coast began to rise in the north-east. The stranger shifted her course westward and gave the cruiser an inside track for advan- tage, but still the Snapper could do no more than hold her own. It was not till the pitre rocks of Babel Man- deb loomed up that they began to make any per- ceptible gain on the felucca, and then they no- tived it had shortened sail and was running into the Red Sea as if distrusting shoals, Commander Lawton, with the reckless de- termination which had won him all the praise he ever deserved, stood on till he found himself within two miles of the other when the spy- glass revealed her plainly. ‘*She’s a beauty, captain,” declared Sloman, in his sober way, as he inspected her narrowly. “* Looks like a yacht, I should say, but I never heard of a felucca-rigged yacht before.” Here one of the midshipmen who had been hovering near looked so knowing that Lawton asked: “ Well, young gentleman, what is it?’ ** Please, sir, ? think I know who she is,” ‘That vessel?’ $*Vos, sir.” “* How do you know?” ** Please, sir, I’ve seen her before.” **You; where?” Please, sir, you remember I came through the canal on the Teaser before I joined the gunboatm That felucca was lying at Suez then with a big ship for tender.” “A big ship for tender? What do you mean, 70 r? ‘*She’s a yacht, sir, belongs to the richest fel- low in the whole world, so they told me at Suez, and he has the ship to carry extra cargo of all sorts.” The captain looked at Sloman in a doubting manner. **Do you think he knows what he’s talking about, gioman?” ‘* Yes, sir; Mr. Young has always been a re- able young officer.” “Then who is this richest fellow in the whole vorld, Mr. Young?” **T don’t know his nanw, sir, but they say he is a Brazilian, and owns a whole lot of diamond mines. They called him the Diamond Duke. **)’v6 heard of him, now Mr. Young speaks, sir. He’s a great friend of the Khedive and his Yankees, but the say he hates the English, for some reason or other. ** Well, whoever he be, we're likely to know retty soon,” answered the commander, thought- fully. ‘for we’re coming up with him now, hand over hand.” And in fact while they were talking they had lessened their distance the felucca to less than a mile, when the Suapper yawed, fired a gun and showed the English flag. As the smoke drifted away wo leeward the light report of an answering gun of small size came from the felucca and up went the red and ellow flag of Portugal and Brazil at the end of the yacht’s main-yard. ’ Still, however, the vessel kept on running, with only jib and mainsail, up along what they could now see from the deck of the Snapper looked like a line of breakers. After a little while she was seen to glide through a en opening, when the Bnanger found herself compelled to shorten sail at the very moment the felucca put up her foresail ded tunithor, to avoid running into one of the eoral reefs that infest the whole of the Red However, the advantage earned by the lead- ership of the yacht was not tobe thrown away, and when the gunboat passed through the same ehannel as the felucca they were still within gunshot, the domineering ways of Commander Kawton cropped out, ‘The Duke of Diamonds. “Send a shot after that fellow and make him heave-to,” he said to Sloman. The old lieutenant stared. ‘* A shot, sir?” “T believe my English is plain, Mr. Sloman. A shot, sir, from the seven-inch rifle first. If | that doesn’t bring him to, try the nine- | inch.” Mr. Sloman hesitated. ** Not near him, I suppose, sir?” “Certainly not. Hit him if you can and | cripple him. I want to board the fellow.” or the last time Sloman ventured a remon- strance, Wht a catch it for this, sir, if that be a acht. **T take the responsibility, sir, at once.” Sloman touched his cap, gave the necessary orders and a few minutes later the heavy re- port of the seven-inch rifle boomed over the sea, while a shrieking, puffing shell, making a sound like a locomotive under full speed, went skipping over the waves and passed right be- tween the yacht’s masts. The effect was immediate, and Commander Lawton closed his ripen ge wre teeth in a grim wolfish sort of smile as the felucca wore short round on her heel and came bowling back to- ward the Snapper. | thought we’d bring that fine gentleman to his senses,” he remarked, witha chuckle. ‘‘ Now we'll see what he’s made of.” Sloman volunteered noremark, and looked as solemn as if at a funeral till the yacht hove-to within a few cable-lengths, when a boat drop- ped from her side and a young man ina naval uniform, that they at once recognized as Ameri- can, was pulled to the British man-of-war by a crew of swarthy Malays as the Snapper threw her sails to the mast. Not a word passed till he had climbed the side by a rope hastily thrown from the g- way, and then he inquired of the officer of the deco who met him at the gangway: ‘What ship is this, and who’s her captain, if you please?” ‘‘Her Majesty’s gunboat Snapper, Captain Lawton,” answered the officer, impressively. The American’s face had been very stern and stiff before, but it softened immediately he heard the captain’s name as he asked: ** Any relation to Sir Lumley Lawton?” ‘His son, I believe,” was the reply. ‘Then be kind enough to say that Mr. Clar- ence Hart, late of the U. 8. navy, would like to see him,” ‘*The captain’s on the quarter-deck, sir. You can see him at once.” And Clarence found himself on the quarter- deck of the Snapper, confronting a stern, sar- castic-looking man with keen blue eyes, red whiskers, a hook nose, and very white teeth, | who observed: ‘Well, sir, your captain found it best to heave-to, Her pesesy s vessels are not to be eluded by every nameless rover that chooses to hoist a ho are you, sir, and what is your boat there?” Hart reddened with anger and then turned pale. This was Helen’s brother! ‘*T was an officer of the United States navy a few months ago, sir,” he answered, firmly. ‘The felucca is the yacht of his grace, the Duke of Diamantina, who demands an apology for your insult in firing a shotted gun over his head just now.” ‘* Does he, indeed?” retorted Captain Lawton, with a broad sneer. ‘‘ And do the ex-officers of Do as I order ‘*Pardon me, captain, you'll do no such thing,” returned the American, coolly. ‘‘ First, before you can beat to quarters, you will have a hundred pounds of dynamite blowing a hole in our bottom. Secondly, the duke hassaved the | per piped the captain’s ives of your own sister and your father’s, who are both now on board the yacht, and who would both be killed if we came to blows.” wae Lawton’s face altered. “What do you mean?” he asked, in a man- ner snciontinng great excitement. “I mean that I wasa passenger on the Be- nares with the Misses Lawton; that the shi foundered two weeks ago: that we were pick up off a raft by a slave dhow; and that but for the Duke of Diamantina, your sister would to- day be a slave in the harem of Sultan Fyzoul ae Now, on gree worry bs ses isposed to persevere in a wanton insult agains the law of nations, and a friendly power, or é | was decided will you make honorable amends to the Duke of Diamantina?” While he was speaking, Lawton’s face wasa study of conflicting emotions, Pride, shame reluctance to give way, were finally succeeded by a forced smile, as he answered: ‘*Of course I'll apologize. It was only a mis- ong I took you for a Greek slaver or smug- gler. To this lamely self-evident lie, Hart made no answer except a silent bow; and he was turnin vd go back when Captain Lawton forced himself say: ‘*Eixcuse me, Mr. a—a—” ‘Hart, Captain Lawton.” ‘*) beg pardon, Mr. Hart, but would you be so as to tell his grace that I shall do my- self the honor of coming on board at once, ad apologize in person for the mistake?” **T will tell him, sir.” And Clarence went down the side and leaped into his boat just as the boatswain of the Snap- ig, reaching the yacht and reporting to the duke as the English boat touched the water. As soon as he told Diamantina that the Eng- lish captain had apologized, the duke called out in Portuguese to Dom Gil, who had been super- intending some mysterious preparations in the bows: “The dog begs. Draw her teeth!” Then he turned to Hart, who was now recog- — as a full-fledged member of his suite, and asked: ** And who is this valiant capitan, who fires at harmless strangers?” ‘*He is Captain Owen Lawton, brother to the young lady in the cabin, your grace, and com- m the Snapper.” Diamantina’s eyes lighted up with an expres- sion that Hart could not fathom, as he said, ee - aw sir, it only needs the father, now, to make all the family complete, And this is the honorable son of the honorable Sir Lumley! Aha! it is well.” As he spoke, Commander Owen Lawton, R. N., the picture of politeness, sprung on deck and bowed low before the duke.” CHAPTER XIV. ON GUARD. “T HAVE come, as I told your friend Mr. Hart, to express my sincere regrets for the mis- take which led me to fire at your vessel, duke,” began Commander Lawton, with mellifluous courtesy. ‘‘I trust your will accept the apol in the spirit in which it is offered, for I | hear that to youl am indebted for the rescue | of a dearly loved sister from a fate worse than death.” The duke smiled one of his languidly frigid smiles, but did not offer to take the other’s ex- tended hand. **T was charmed to be of some little service to a lady in distress, senhor. It is hardly worth while to mention it, till I have restored the lady to Sir Lumley Lawton bimself.” He remained standing, with a cold and dig- nified demeanor that abashed even Owen Law- ton, domineering 1 spre nature and educa- tion as be was. It was with a nervous laugh and half stammer that the British officer con- oa Well I ell, you see, I suppose your grace has had enough trouble with my family by this time. Perhaps I'd better take charge of my sis- ter myself, you know.” ‘The way to the cabin is open, senhor,” was the frigid reply; ‘‘but remember that the doubt of my honor which the removal will imply is an offense to, the individual which no ape Fe wipe out,” — nm ny a ges this dark, tay g man, whose great black eyes were usually so sl and found them glowing like coals 4 they favad hisown. Then all the blonde blood in his own veins fired up to resent the implied menace, and his own fierce blue eyes widened as he re- torted: “As you please, sir. I shall at least ask her if she prefers to remain here or go with her | brother.” “You will find the ladies, your aunt and your sister, in the cabin, senhor,” replied Diamantina, as ¢oldly as before. ‘“Senhor Hart will show you the way.” Lawton bowed stiffly and followed the Amer- | ican into the cabin, where the first person he | saw was his honorable and kittenish aunt, who exclaimed in great surprise: “Why, Owen, is that you? Where did you spring from?” ‘From the quarter-deck of the Snapper, aunt. Where’s Helen?” The eaptain could see that his respected aunt was not overjoyed to see him, for her greeting cool. Owen Lawton was ten years older than his sister Helen, and his a pearance by the side of aunt Lorelia was apt $5 raise doubts as to the youthfulness of the fan — and orgs uric ‘ _ The sound o voice, however, b’ ht Helen out of the state-room to which che had 5
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ew A $ ae tn . Lt a tg AT The Duke of Diemonds 11 retired, and she flew to embrace her brother reply of the duke. ‘‘ Do the ladies wish to leave with real affection, for Helen was fond of the captain, who had always tted her. | ‘Why, Owen,” she said, after the first greet- | ings were over, “was it ait ship that fired at us just now? I was frightened to death. And after the duke had been so kind and generous to us all! Why, he’s taking us to Suez to meet ‘To meet my father? Why, has Sir Lumley | left Calcutta?’ asked Owen. ‘So they told us on the Himalaya, which we spoke off Truncst. They had news of the loss of the Benares, and he set off at once to look for me—and oh, Owen! have you heard what a ter- | rible time we had? saved from drowning by | Mr, Hart and from the Arabs by the duke. You can thank them that you have any sister at ail, sir, for I never thought to see any of you again.” ‘Well, Helen,” said her brother, a little awkwardly, “I’m sure I’m very much obliged to them and all that sort of thmg, but I think | ou’d better shiff yourself and aunt Lorelia on ard the Snapperat once. It’ll be more proper, you know.” Here aunt Lorelia burst out: , ‘Indeed, we’ll do no such thing, sir. If | take the ladees toSuezand thence to Cairo, where ple little widow sankey about his daughter. | senhor.” “Tsn’t he the ay image of what his father the yacht?” was, the spalpeen? I'll never be ’asy till I &et “Why no, in fact—ah—if your is dis- | him opposite to me, with a ee of saw-handles to be troubled with them till you reach | between the two of us. Didn’t he once strike uez—ah—I don’t like to impose on your cour- | me, the little villain, and I a soldier in the ranks tesy, hye know, but, ah—in fact—” | as couldn't strixe back? Don’t let’s talk of it, ‘a0 Owen Lawton, bold and reckless as he | Hart. I'll bethe death of that blackguard, yet.” was, somehow broke down before this quiet, | Clarence made no more remarks, for he saw dark gentleman, whose voice was so soft. | that the Irishman was thoroughly worked up ‘“*T have not complained of the trouble, | by his thoughts of old days, before he was made senhor,” replied Diamautina, slowly. ‘‘I shall | an officer and a — by the fiat of a sim- ady who signs herself *‘ Victo+4 I hear Sare Lomlee is now engaged making in- | ria R. ou will stop at | He had evidently felt afraid to trust himself iro, senhor?” on deck, in presence of Lawton, while restrain- ‘*Of course, if my sister be there when I get | ed by the hospitality of Diamantina from any of- to Suez,” hastily answered the other. | fensive act, and the American thought to him- The duke fixed his dark eyes on the blue orbs | self, with some wonder, that this Lawton famil of the Englishman and spoke very slowly and | had a good many bitter enemies, notwith - distinctly: ing their position in we oe G “‘T shall expect tosee you at Cairo, capitan, or himself he felt that he hated Owen Law- if you stop at all.” ton We cents aunt Lorelia negatively, Sir ‘Of course, of course,” replied Owen, a little | Lumley vaguely but expectantly; while for at a loss to understand. Helen, he had a mixture of pique and wounded ““T shall be at my house, and shall expect to | pride, forced admiration and involuntary ten- hear from you on your arrival,” continued the | derness, such as any other man would have in- duke, in the same measured tones. ‘‘Salut, | terpreted as being “ over head and earsin love.” a we're not properly accommoda here, I He lifted his cap with naval courtesy and should like fo know where you'll find a nicer Owen Lawton went back to his vessel; then the place!” | two parted company almost immediately, one “Yes, but I don’t know this duke,” persisted | heading for Aden and coal, the other for Suez | the captain, with true British obstinacy. | and the canal. “*T should think not, from the way you tried The breeze held strong from the desert all to kill hita and all of us,” retorted aunt Lorelia, | day, and within an hour from the time Captain “Let me tell you that he isa gentleman who | Lawton left the yacht, the Snapper was hull moves in any society he pleases, and that if you | down on the horizon, while the felucca was cannot see the advantages of knowing him, your | gliding away to the north at sixteen knots an | father will oe be so mad. Helen is in my | hour, parting the short waves with her knife- charge, and J:don’t intend to move from here | like prow in a soft hissing gurgle as she sped till I meet Lumley at Suez.” along. “ And do you refuse to come, Helen?” asked In another hour the British ship was a mere Captain Owen, sharply, of his sister. speck on the horizon and then she disappeared “ Don’t put it that way, Owen, please. Papa together, while the duke and his guests sat ut me in aunt Lorelia’s charge when we left | down to dinner under the awning of the yacht’s ndia, and we cannot leave the duke’s yacht | quarter-deck. without a gross rudeness; can we, dear?” Clarence Hart felt much more happy and at | ‘“* As you please,” returned Owen, constrain- | ease since the yacht had been at sea. In the edly, for it went sorely against the grain with | first place his naval experience made him feel him yo xed any point, however unreasonable. | more at home on the water, and secondly he ‘Then I suppose I'd better take my leave and | saw Helen constantly since he had accepted the , follow you to Suez.” post of secretary to the duke. ) ‘Nay, Owen, don’t look offended, dear. Have By some subtle and indefinable influence Dia- | ou been introduced to Mr. Hart and the duke? | mantina bad managed to keep him separated | here are they, aunt?” from Helen till he had formally announced his | ‘*Hart, assoon as he had ushered the British | readiness to serve the duke, and immediately | officer into the cabin, had returned on deck, | thereafter allowed him the fullest access to the where he was talking to Diamantina, as they | lady’s presence. both watched the Snapper slowly drifting Clarence could not explain how it was ac- | astern. Neither referred in any way to the | complished; but none the less he felt himself to | presence of the obnoxious captain on board, but | be a mere powerless puppet in the duke’s hands, confined themselves to remarks on gunboats, | and «was content, for the first time in his life, to | rigs, and such like nautical subjects, in which | follow another’s lead. | | both took more or less interest. At thé same time that he saw Helen daily, he It was while they were engaged in a rather | felt that some sort of a barrier, intangible but | languid discussion on the respective merits of | certain, had risen between them. e Hon. lateen sails and those affected by American | Lorelia treated him with the same sort of schooners, that they heard Helen’s sweet voice | languid condescension\ that she practiced to- behind them, and turned tosee her, blushing di- | ward her inferiors in general, and even Helen, vinely, leading up her brother to the duke. while she spoke to him as an equal, kept him at Helen, despite of all the spoiling she had had, | a certain distance which he never observed was one of those amiable girls who are always | before. making peace between others, and her fine tact The cours ee saw and felt all this, and re- had already perceived that there was trouble of | sented it on his own by a studied coldness some sort between Owen and her rescuers. of demeanor. He felt that something or some “T have brought to your grace a gentleman | one was at work to prejudice Helen against of the English nation,” she began, playfully, | him, but could not get an opportunity to see ‘who professes never to know any one till: he ; her alone to ask an explanation. has been properly introduced. Permit me then The Hon. Lorelia was forever by her side to do the fraoet: Captain Owen Lawton, of Her | when not engaged with O’Shea, and the duke Britannic Majesty’s ship Snapper, His Grace the | was always ready to claim her attention when Duke of Diamantina. fs that right, Owen?” Lorelia went off guard. Hurt and offended, The cold reserve of Diamantina relaxed into | but unable to define the offense, Clarence took a smile at her manner, for it is difficult to resist | refuge in the society of O’Shea, who had be- a pretty girl, and Owen Lawton put on his most | come to all appearance the favorite guest of the engaging face as he said: duke. “Tam delighted to meet his grace, to whom | _ Clarence was rather puzzled at one thing in | my sister tells me I owe so much of kindness | O’Shea’s behavior. t the time of the en- | shown to her and my aunt.” ; counter between the yacht and the British gun- | The duke’s only answer was.a cool and silent | boat the Captain of Control] had disappeared bow, his face retaining its inscrutable expres- | the moment Lawton entered his boat. Not till sion. the Snapper was hull down to the south did “And this, Owen, is Mr. Hart,” pursued | O’Shea come on deck, and when Clarence asked Helen, turning to the American. | him where he had been he replied in a confused Both gentlemen bowed with great cutward | manner: politeness, as naval officers of different nations “T didn’t want to see that blackguard. meeting at sea, and Owen observed affably : Sure, I know his father too well, bad luck to ““Hope to see more of you, some day, him!” rt.” ‘* Why, what’s the matter between you, if it’s | Then Dom Gill, tall, angular and unpreposses- | a fair question?” sing in his gaudy Brazilian uniform, stalked “Will ye keep it still if I tell ye?” forward to be presented and remarked: y ** Of- course I will.” ‘Ze honor-a of see ze senhor capitan s’all be Well, at poe back to twenty years unexpeck. I ’ope ze capitan s’all ze goot health | fore Miss Helen there was born, the ‘darlin’! ; enjoy. Salut, senbor? Ah, she’s the only white one in the whole flock | wen Lawtun rather curled his lip at the | of black sheep.” | other’s ungainly figure, but made shift to bow “Yes. And did his father offend you?” . and say: ‘*He robbed me, the black-hearted villain. | “Very happy, I’m sure.” Ah, ye know ell about it, Hart. Ye know that Then he turned to the duke, with another at- | watch the ould maid’s so proud of? Sure, the | tempt at corc.ality, rather forced, r Rajah, rest his soul, gave it me with his “Your grace has the heels, of me when my | last words, and that thief made me turn it in to coal runs out, I must confess,” he said. “‘I sup- | his head-clerk. And now she wears it and says you'll gci to Suez before I shall. In fact, | he gave it her.” Pye orders to stop at Aden for coal, you know.” ) ‘* But, what has Captain Lawton to do with ‘*We shall meet again, senhor,” was the quiet all this?” Ae CHAPTER XV. THE PRINCESS MELAPETROS. Tue Cairo of 1877 is much changed from the Cairo of Mehemet Ali of forty years ago. The _ shrieking locomotive now whirls the traveler in | from the flat and marshy country of the Nile | Delta, covered with a maze of irrigating canals, to a fine station, surrounded with gardens and | suburban villas, from whence broad macadam- ized streets, bordered with handsome houses and | shops, lead into the old city, behind its frown- ing walls. The Ezbekiah and Ismailiah where the foreign population of the city chiefly reso are handsome modern quarters, with gas an water, paved streets and public gardens, all as different from the tumble-down rottenness of the ‘‘ Arab quarter,” as can be conceived. In the most fashionable part of the Ezbekiali eget ad looking out on the garden with which the Khedive adorned the-city in 1867, stands a large and handsome house, such as one sees on the Boulevard Montmartre, in Paris, or Fifth avenue, in New York. Large enough to hold forty or fifty rooms, or- nately French in style, surrounded with gardens of its own, jealously walled in from view, this house was known throughout all Cairo in 1877 as the ‘Palace of Jewels.” So the poetical Arabs called that which the | more prosaic Europeans had dubbed ‘‘ The Mil- lion House.” In both cases the title bad refer- ence to thesupposed wealth of theowner; for this house belonged to the Duke of Diamantina, and | was occupied by him two or three months in every year. It was but seldom he came therein spring or summer, for Cairo is chiefly a winter resort: and when a long train of wagons was seen rum- bling into the court-yard late in May, the gos- sips of the quarter were all astir with the news that the “ Diamond Duke had come back.” They saw load after load of comestibles, with crowds of cooks and black slaves going in, while a tall, angular man, in European clothes, bus tled about, giving orders in bad Arab’c. Ev- ery one knew the figure and face of the duke’s steward and manager, Dom Gil Grabador, and 3g shopkeepers bowed most obsequiously im. For several hours after Dom Gil’s arrival the bustle was incessant; and then it subsided into quiet and order, as a carriage drove up, from which alighted the famous millionaire himself, accompanied by two ladies and a young man in white clothes. The duke ascended the steps with the beta 22 of the two ladies, and the young man gave his arm to the elder. The gaping crowd of sight- seers watched them enter the cool hall f the house; where the door closed on them and shut them out from all further view. Inside the house Dom Gil was bowing before his chief, and the duke asked in his rapid Portu- guese, unintelligible to the others: “*Ts she here yet?” : ‘*The princess is in the salon, senhor,” re- turned the major-domo with another bow. Diamantina nodded and led his companions down the cool, dark hall to an immense saloon, cooled in the same manner as the yacht’s cabin and furnished with a mixture of luxury and simplicity truly Oriental. There they were met | by a lady of very remarkable beauty, whose rich robesset off her face and figure with daz- zling effect. Then the duke dropped Helen’s hand frem his arm, and said, in his usual] quiet manner: “My mother, the Princess Melapetros, Miss Helen Lawton, daughter of Sir Lumley.” The beautiful lady gave a slight start at the name, and looked earnestly at-Helen for a mo- “— ere pd gig a a : “Tam osee the youn . Herfather is here, too, and he nas boon tn 4 supposed loss. And you are safe, my dear?’ As she spoke she was scannirz Helen with such keenness that the girl’s eyes sunk be poy st own. The result of the inspectiou seemed to be consolable for his.
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The Duke of Diamonds. favorable, for the princess took Helen’s face in her hands and kissed her kindly. Then the duke seemed for the first time to re- member the presence of the Hon. Lorelia, who | was waiting a little awkwardly, leaning on Clarence Hart’s arm, bebind them. ‘* Pardon, madame. The Honorable Miss Law- ton, sister of Sir Lumley,” he said rapidly. € princess, my motner.” The Hon. Lorelia prided herself on her ease in high society, and yet she felt a trifle embar- rassed before this lady, who must be as old as herself, but looked at least twenty years younger. The Princess Melapetros was of a very rare order of beauty, a blonde with large black eyes. Her complexion was pale, but wonderfully fair and her figure was perfection in iis roundé curves, like those of the Venus de Medici, Her tawny gold hair was coiled up with jewels in a | icturesque Oriental head-dress, and she wore the robes of a Greek lady of rank, perhaps the most picturesque in the world. ere Was a soft and high-bred languor about her whole manner and appearance,.as different from the saree insolence of the Anglo-Indian lady as could be imagined. She did not offer to salute Lorelia, but bowed dey perfect courtesy as she said to her, in Eng- h: “You have had a wonderful escape, Miss Lawton, my son’s steward tells me.” ‘*Oh, dear me, yes, your highness. We owe everything to the dear duke, J’m sure. He has been most kind to bring us all this way to meet our poor dear Lumiey. Has your highness ever | met my brother?’ The princess smiled slightly. ; **T have seen him, but I doubtif he will recog- nize me. The ladies in Egypt go abroad vailed, you know, and I follow the customs of the country.” “A very nonsensical custom, I must say,” protested Lorelia. ‘‘ I’m sure it must be very unpleasant.” “Not when women grow as old as [ am madame,” was the placid answer. “‘ We find it to advantage not to expose our faces to the public view.’ The Hon. Lorelia flushed deeply for the first time in many years, Here was a beautiful wo- man, who did not look over thirty, calmly call- ing herself the mother of the man at whom the honorable virgin had been ‘‘setting her cap,” and Lorelia felt bitterly that if the princess was an old wonian, she herself must be still more ancient. “Oh, ’'m sure no one would think that of you, princess,” she simpered. ‘‘ You must have been married very young indeed to have such a grown-up son as his grace.” : The duke led Helen to a seat without paying any more attention to the Hon. virgin; but the princess seemed to find something painful in the allusion to her marriage, for she sighed deeply as she answered: ** Madame, I was a widow at sixteen.” Then, without recurring further to the sub- ject, she looked at her watch and remarked: **Eleven o’clock. Have you sent to Sir Lum- ley, my son?” As we know, to see any one take out a watch was a sure bait for the her own, and in this case the temptation was great, for the watch of the princess was a close match for that of the ancient virgin in beauty and costliness. Before the duke could answer his mother, Miss Lawton was crying out with kittenish ani- mation: ‘*Oh, princess, how singular! I do think that our watch is the very mate for mine! My bro- i always told me there never was but one such other made in Paris.” Clarence Hart, who had been standing, re- tired from the group ata respectful distance, as beeame his position, saw the princess start violently, and then stagger backward as Lorelia ke, Rapid and noiseless, with the skill of a trained physician, he caught her in his arms as she was about to fall, and spoke to the duke: “Madame is ill, your grace. Let me lay her | on the couch yonder.” CHAPTER XVI. SIR LUMLEY LAWTON. In a moment the duke was by his mother’s side, speaking rapidly to her in some tongue unknown to the American, but the lady became so faint that they were obliged to lay her down on a couch, while Clarence batbed her temples with ice-water, thinking strange things to him- self all the time. Presently the Lee revived and began to sob and talk wildly to her son in the same un- known language, while the two English women, much alarmed, could only stand by and pity her. “What sent her off so, Helen?” asked Lorelia, ina ae caane *T wonder if she has heart dis- ease ‘“* Perhaps it’s the heat,” suggested Helen, and then Clarence Hart looked up, with alla doc- tor’s authority in his eye as he said, sternly: on, Lorelia to exhibit | / **Please be quiet. The lady needs rest. She | is nervous.” He felt the duke, who was beside him, press his arm as 4 signal for silence, and presently the lady looked up at him and said in English: ** Who is this, my son?” “This is Dr. dart, my friend and secretary, who is hunting all over the world for his uncle, Gilbert Carver,” was the rather singular reply of Diamantina. The introduction seemed, however, to have a marked effect on the princess; for, to Clarence’s intense amazement and confusion, she parted the hair on his forehead with both her soft | white bands, as if he had been a boy, and gazed at him steadily with her dark, magnetic eyes for nearly a minute, ere she said: “ Fie is worthy of his uncle. God bless them both, Diamantina!” And she deliberately kissed the young man on the forehead. Clarence was so much confused that he turned as red as fire, while the Hon. Lorelia gave Helen one silent but eloquent look, and then walked away to the window, where good taste had al- 72 M sent her niece, ile they were —s out, up to the door dashed a carriage, and out jumped a tall, stern- faced man, with clear, sharp features and long mutton-chop whiskers. Helen clapped her hands, ‘*Papa, papa! Here he is!” They saw Sir Lumley run up the steps and pull the bell, and then the Duke of Diamantina said, in a low voice to Hart: “Take my mother away ; she is too ill to meet this man to-day.” Fe But, to the surprise of all, the lady seemed to recover her strength at the sharp sound of the bell and the tone of Sir Lumley’s voice in the passage, asking for his daughter. She sat up and waved aside both her son and Clarence Hart, watching eagerly the doorway. Presently in came Sit Lumley, tall, heavy, sarcastic, gray, the image of his son Owen, and the model of what Owen will be if he reaches gr ae very line of his hard, haughty face, with its large, loose-lipped mouth, had the domineering temper of its owner written plainly therein. The precision of his attire, Anglo-Indian all | over; the whiteness of his puggaree hat with its I Soage lining; the smoothness of his chin and | ips, all told of the desk-man, the bureaucrat. | Sir ‘Lumle Lawton, yellow and dogmatic, was | a favorable specimen of the Indian civil service official, absolute wielder of almost irresponsible wer over thousands of people. In the present case he looked at his best un- der the softening influence of paternal love, for Sir Lumley was an affectionate father. There were tears in his eyesas Helen flew to meet him, and he even adsbenbed Lorelia with considerable affection. Meantime the Duke of Diamantina, the Greek princess and Clarence Hart became, unawares, spectators of this family meeting; and Clar- | enee, for one, felt much interest in it. / As he had expected, he hated Sir Lumley | from the first view, partly from natural antag- onism to his cold, haughty face, partly from pure jealousy of the kisses Helen was lavishing on him. But his eyes did not rest long on the family | group. They were attracted, instead, to the two spectators like himself, who were watching Sir Lumley from the darkened room. The Duke of Diamantina gazed at the Eng- | lishman with a slight lifting of the upper lip, a | spreading of the wide nostril, a dilatation of the eye, thatirresistibly reminded Hart of the ap- pearance of some carnivorous animal that ae prey for the first time after a fast and sleep. There was no ferocity there yet, but there was a revelation of depths of ferocity that might come to light ina moment more, should the scent come stronger. Then his eyes turned on the princess, and the beautiful and languid ieay was transformed. aoe were parted over her white teeth, her nostrils tense with some secret emotion, and her bosom rose and fellin those short quick gasps that show how much a woman is wrought up, while her black eyes fairly blazec at the uncon- scious Sir Lumley, as he kissed his child again and again Something, he could hardly tell what, made Hart stir and go a little forward, so as to at- tract the princess’s attention. He thought she must be ill, and laid his hand on her wrist with the quiet authority of a physician. As much to his surprise as when she had kiss- ed him before, the lady clutched his hand and whispered to him: ** It is he, indeed !” The whisper, soft as it was, attracted the duke’s attention, and be started round to his mother, saying sOmething in Greek which caused her to calm her face impo 2 The first meeting of parent and child was now over, and Helen was just beginning to think of the presence of her host, when the loud rollicking voice of O’Shea was heard in the hall, and the t captain stalked into the room, resplon* 4 in snowy linen. | ‘Faith, duke, and this Cairo in May’s nigh as bad as Lucknow or Delhi,” cried the je y soldier, who had quite domesticated himself in the Diamantina household, with the ‘‘ cheek ” of a full-blooded Irishman. ‘I thought I’d just look ye up in your new quarters and —EH! Is it ? Holy Mother of God !” The stout officer had passed on into the dark- ened room out of the glare outside, without no- ticing the Lawton tableau, and was suddenly confronted by the white face and gleaming eyes of the Princess Melapetros, who came close to him before he saw her. The effect on O’Shea was astonishing. Stout and jolly as he was, he turned a.dead white, staggered and nearly fell. Then, passing his hand over his brow, as if he felt giddy and con- fused, he stammered: ““T beg pardon, ma’am, my lady—I thought his grace was alone—I—” “ This is Captain O’Shea, of the English army, mother,” said the soft, low voice of the duke at this juncture. ‘‘ Captain, this is my mother, Princess Melapetros. Six Lumley Lawton is in the room, Be composed.” He a the last words very low and se poh, os O’Shea nodded his comprehension and com- ance. . A moment later Sir Lumley was bowing, with the most finished courtesy, before the duke and the princess, whom he could hardly see in the darkened room, and expressing bis thanks and gratitude for the inestimable service Dia- mantina had rendered him. “My dear sir,” rejoined the other, with his usual lazy grace, “it is nothing. T have long wished to see Sir Lumley Lawton outside of In- dia, and Tam happy in the accident that has brought it about.’ ‘* Has your grace, then, never been in India” asked Sir Lumley, in some surprise. **My dear sir, [ have been in Goa; but you must reflect that it is not pleasant for a Portu- ese to look on the country which Albuquerque t — known to reer and see anoth- er people in possession there, Pindeed !’ said Sir Lumley, with an un laugh; ‘‘is it possible your people are so sensi- tive as that?’ P ‘* They are ute senhor, and they ret Sg) orget injuries till after vengeance—my people, ‘Why, why, duke; I thought that Paathan’ were rather a quiet and commercial set.” “My dear sir, I am not all Brazilian. My mother, who is now a Greek by adoption, is of another race. Permit.me to present you to the Princess Euphrosyne Melapetros, my mother.” As the duke spoke, be made a silent signal with his hand to Dom Gil, who had softly glided into the room, and instantly a flood of light ured in at the rear windows, as the contain sh apart at a single pull of a hidden cord. It was like a cunningly contrived coup de theatre for more than one member of the com- ny. Pesir Lumley Lawton saw before him the beau- tiful princess, a calm smile on her lips, and gave a violent start, turning as pale as if she had been a oe while the single word, ‘‘ Effie!” esca is lips. The princess, all her former emotion replaced by paren calmness, bowed and smiled, as she sai ‘*T am glad to meet Sir Lumley Lawton, at last. Ihave looked for that pleasure in vain for some time.” The pallor began to fade out of the English- man’s face, and it was with a faint attempt at a smile, that he stammered out: ‘*Pardon me, princess; but you are so—so like—a lady I once knew—that I—I was start. led—” and he stopped, still staring at her. Then the duke interposed, with his usual qui- et smile: ‘These resemblances are very singular, some- times, senhor. Perhaps I also resemble some one you knew.” Sir Lumley turned and stared at him, and his strong lower jaw fell in an expression of fresh amazement, and something very like fear, Diamantina called to Clarence. ‘*Doctor, here is another patient for you. This vile hot weather! I fear Sare Lomlee is not well.” And indeed the Englishman looked as if he had a stroke of paralysis. CHAPTER XVII. THE KHEDIVE CLUB. AMONG the other modern institutions of re- ®onstructed Egypt none are more remarkable than the club-houses. Alexandria sports one of them, under the name of the ‘‘Mehemet Ali Club,” founded by Prince Mehemet Tewfik, son of the first Khedive Ismail Pasha; while Cairo rejoices in the still larger and more flourishin ‘““Khedive Club,” built by the British Duke o Sutherland, and patronized by the fashion of Cairo, native and imported. The Khedive Club boasts the names of half the aristocracy of Europe as honorary or visit- ing members, and a Lost of pashas, beys, bank- ers, merchants and other notables, as constant members. The Duke of Diamantina had be- longed ¢o it from its foundation, and his face was as well known there as that of any digni- a seas Nes Vi aes ae yevees te
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Seber . 8 state ~aagi a ti ne tary of Egypt, though he seldom made use of the cuisine of the club, and only used it for a morning lounging-place, where news circula- On the morning after his arrival in Cairo, Diamantina, tranquil and courteous as ever, strolled into the saloon, smoking a cigarette, and found a knot of Egyptian officers excitedly discussing a suject that seemed of great inter- est, for his arrival did not interrupt the con- versation. Halim Pasha, a gray-bearded old Albanian general, civilized by the contact of French man- ners, was laying down the law to Houdin Bey, a French renegade in the Khedive’s service. All the officers spoke French, the Egyptian court language at present. *‘T say that a man who forfeits his honor by a sharper’s trick has no right to claim the cvur- tesies of this club, monsieur; and I shall make +3 protest against it to the Executive Commit- ‘“My dear friend, do not be rash. You must remember that this Sare Lomlee is an English judge of the Bureau Civile, and holds the name unblemished.” **But just look at this,” exclaimed the pasha, impatiently, and he struck his knuckles on a folded newspxper lying on his knee. ‘Here is the Times, the Enzylis — of papers, that charges him directly with the dirty and mean crime of a petty theft.” ‘Pardon me, monsieur,” here calmly inter- Diamantina, who had been puffing his cigarette close by. ‘‘I heard the name of Sir Lomlee mentioned. Is it by chance the gentle- man who is now here?” ‘*Ah, my dear duke, you are welcome,” re- lied the old general, rising and cordially shak- a hands. ‘ Yes, itis this Lawtone, this stiff Englishman, that we talk about! Hear this, monsieur, in the ‘ Bord du Nil ’* extracted from the English Times.” And the old officer began to read in French from a local Cariene paper what purported to be the translation of an extract from the Lundon Times, as follows: * A curious suit has just been begun in the Court of King’s Bench, which recalls some of the darker and less excusable features of the suppression of the Indian Mutiny in 1857. Our older readers may re- member that the Rajah of the Independent state of Krishnapoor was accused by Mr. (now Sir Lumley) Lawton, British Minister Resident at his court, of having taken part in the mutiny by a secret expedi- tion under the guiseof a hunting party, which ended in an attack on Sir James Ontrain’s provision con- voys and the extermination of half of the 17th Foot, guarding the convoy. The Rajah denied the charge, and offered to prove that he was a hundred miles away atthe time of the attack, and that prisoners afterward taken confessed that Tantia Topee was the leader in that terrible massacre. “As is well known in India, Sir Lumley (then Mr. Lawton) obtained access to Krishnapoor by a mas- terly stratagem pretending friendship, and only ar- rested the treacherous Hindoo when the latter was fairly in his power.” Here Diamantina broke in with a sort of hiss, the nearest approach to a laugh in which he was ever known to indulge. ‘ ‘*They are droll, these English; are they not, pasha? The Englishman uses a ‘masterly stratagem,’ while the Hindoo is ‘treacherous’ before he is tried. Is it not droll?” Houdin Bey shrugged his shoulders. ‘*What would you? The English have the power just now; they and those cursed Ger- mans. Sacrrrré!” The Prussophobia of the Frenchman over- wered even his Anglophobia, and Halim asha grinned as he looked over his spectacles. ‘Let mereadon. The rest is still more droll for the English.” He continued: “The Rajah was suddenly arrested in the evening by a detachment of Sikh Horse, and an effort was made at the same time to seize the Ranee, his wife. an Eurasiant lady, with their only son, then a child in arms. This attempt was frustrated by the des- perate fighting of a part of the Rajah’s Guard head- ed by a Yankeeedventurer called Gilkarvah by the Hindoos, who cut his way out of the city, carrying off the woman and infaut. The Rajah was hurried- ly tried by a court-martial, who found him guilty, and the Resident produced an order from the Vice- roy ordering his execution by blowing from a can- non, the solitary instance in which this form of death was meted out to a Hindoo of rank. The sen- tence was carried into effect next day at noon in the public square of Krishnapoor. “So much is familiar to all students of that bloody page in Indian history, but the strangest part of the story is yettocome. Here eweury yiere after the event comes into court a woman affirming herself to be the widow of the dead Rajah of Krishnapoor and claims that Sir Lumley Lawton not only forged the Viceroy’s order for her husband's execution, but actually took private possession of allthe jewels of the Rajah found on his body, especially & watch, made by Bellechasse Fréres of Paris, which she avers to have seen in the possession of Sir Lumley’s sister, alleged to have been ordered and paid for by Sir Lumley. This lady sues under the name of Effie Kalidasa, widow of Kalidasa, Rajah of Krishnapoor. and offers as witnesses the makers of the watch an some fifty prominent Indian officials who have seen it in the Hon, Miss Lawton’s possession. This charge if proven will convict Sir Lumley of @ very mean ot The Nile . + Eurasian. Teeodren of mixed European-Asiatic xace are thus named in India. The Duke of | Diamonds, form of embezzlement of public property, and if es will probably lead to his dismissal from her | fajesty’s Civil Service. The charge of forgery of | the death-warrant is more obscure, as Lord Law- | rence, who was Governor-General at the time, has been dead some years.,”’ When Halim Pasha had finished-reading be looked round him triumphantly. ““There, messieurs; that is the man that Colonel Hamilton, the British consul-general, introduces to the club and asks us to grant privileges to. I say I shall protest to the ex- ecutive committee unless the name is with- drawn.” Hardly were the words out of his mouth when the men of whom they were speaking entered the room together, the consul-general ing to Sir Lumley as they advanced. ‘* Ah, yes} deuced nice sort of place for such a beastly country, _ know. Pretty fair cook —used to be in the ‘Reform,’ you know—I think you'll like the club while you’re here. Never any trouble about names, my dear fel- low. Your name would carry you anywhere. Hallo! Isay! What’s all this? The Conecodaabal stuck his glass in his eye and stared at the bulletin board of the club, where the names of members proposed were nevably. posted for the period before voting on them. In front of the board were grouped the Egyptian officers, headed by Halim Pasha, and that venerable and testy officer was deliberate- ly pulling down Sir Lumley’s name from the ard, _ “Hallo, I say, pasha, you know, this is no oke, you know,” angrily exclaimed Colonel amilton, as he stepped forward. CHAPTER XVIII. THE ARTICLE. THE old Albanian turned and glowered at him with his fiery eyes as he held out the paper inned to the obnoxious article in the Bord du il, which had caused the trouble. ‘* There, monsieur,” he said, shaking them an- grily, ““I’ave torn ze name, zat you may save your honneur. Do you comprehend, sare? Look at zat article, and say if zat isa name for dis club?’ Then with a flourish he slapped his breast and handed the papers to the amazed Englishman, repeating: ‘*T am risponsable, sare.” And adozen Egyptians, French and Italian anes slapped their breasts together, and cried: “Ve are risponsable, sare!” The English consul-general was a large phleg- matic blonde, who wore a gold eyeglass, and had been a captain in the Guards before he took to diplomacy.. He was as cool as a cucumber under fire, and this began to look like fire, ‘*Pray don’t waste any unnecessary excite- ment, gentlemen,” he remarked, in a tone of aggravating patronage. ‘‘ You must be aware that my position prevents me from fighting in Egypt. hat’s the row?” sare; dis! Read ’em!” alim Pasha thrust the paper into his hands, senor to the article. : MeanwhileSir Lumley Lawton, not quite com- prehending what was the matter, for he had not seen the paper Halim Pasha had torn down, yet felt the sort of uneasinessa man experiences when he is made spectator of a quarrel. At first he was disposed to laugh at the volu- ble excitement of the old pasha and his southern friends, but then his eyes fell on the Duke of Diamantina, who was sitting in a large cane arm-chair, lazily watching the fracas through the blue wreaths of his cigarette smoke. net had not met since the previous day, when Sir Lumley had been tuken so suddenly ill at the Diamantina mansion that the duke had been obliged to send him bome in his own car- riage. Since that time the once Resident of Krishnapoor had had time to compose his mind and features to meet Diamantina, and lay out a course of action for himself. The cause of bis illness was simple some and if the reader has not gathered it from the foregoing pages, it is soon told. From some occult cause, the young Duke of Diamantina seemed to Sir Lumley to be noth- ing but the living portrait and identity of that very Rajah of Krishnapoor whom he had caused to be destroyed twenty years before. Had not Sir Lumley seen the mutilated fragments of that unhappy prince with his own eyes, he would bave believed that the Rajah had escaped alive; but as it was, the duks seemed, to his re- morse-haunted vision, to be nothing but an evil spirit that had taken the dead Kalidasa’'s = ehad made. all sorts of inquiries about the duke since he left the Diamantina mansion, anu — mene his —_ Pokey known and printed in e@ Almanach de tha the indispensable of European tuft-hunters. There he was:— Vasco Va Albuquerque, Marquis of Pombal, Duke of Dia- mantina, created in 1869, by Dom Pedro, Em- peror of Brazil, éetas 28,” There was no Se to Sir Lumley’s mind that there could be any other connection than uez, Count of tL CL Lt 13 | that of a startling resemblance between this man, born in Brazil, and the child of Kalidasa, who would only be twenty-oue if he were alive. Sir Lumley resolved to make a friend of the duke and find who he was, for his own safety. One thing was certain: if the Princess Euphro- syne Melapetros had been twenty years youn- ger, she might have passed to Sir Lumley for fie Blackstone, the little Eurasian, who had cheated him at fifteen by marrying Kalidasa. “*Tt must be that they are the same,” he mut- tered to himself now, as he looked at Diaman- tina and thought of the yesterday’s meeting. ‘But if they are they can do me no harm, I'll cultivate this young duke and find out.” But while he was looking at the duke, and making up his mind, Colonel Hamilton was giancing rapidly over the paper; and just as ir Lumley started toward Diamantina he was arrested by Hamilton’s voice, saying in a grave tone: *“Look here, Lawton, here’s something you ought to read. It’s a beastly lie, of course, These confounded half-breed French editors al- ways lie. But just read it, you know.” Sir Latnley, with a vague feeling of un- easiness, took the Bn 3 and began to glance over the translated article, while Hamilton with an appearance of unusual irritation for a man of his glacial temperament, began to curse the waiters for not bringing him the English Times at once. “Where is it, you? Ali, Mehemet, Hassan, Francois, whatever is your infernal forei name! I swear you confounded grinning Frenc Greek monkeys are not fit to wait upon a gen- tleman, confound this beastly country! Give it here, you infernal Egyptian idiot you!” He snatched the paper fom the waiter’s hand (said waiter was a Seiten by the by) and os- tentatiously turned bis back on the Egyptian officers, with an appearance of rudeness that looked very much like premeditated insult. The fact was that the Hon. Sidney Hamilton felt at that moment stung to the very heart with indignant shame for his countryman, and longed, Briton-like, to avenge it on any one of the grinning foreigners, jealous of English su- premacy, who filled the club. He did not believe that the article in the Bord du Nil came out of the Times at all. He was too familiar with the peculiar ways of Le- vantine journalism to doubt that this was some sort of a blackmailing attack, but all the same he remembered to have heard hints in India of foul play in ‘‘ that unfortunate Krisbnapoor af- fair” and the story about Lorelia’s watch had been a common matter of mess-room scandal in Caleutta. It was characteristic of the utter and ea disregard of right and wrong in dealing with Hindoos that marks the British population of India, that all these stories had never cost the Lawtons any social or of- ficial R pray “So many things had to be winked at in the mutiny, you know.” Hamilton looked savagely through the Times, a page after page with the eye of an ex- pert, till he came to the end, when he triumph- antly folded it flat with a slap, and cried: “There, pees; I knew you couldn’t trust those dirty blackmailing sheets they call papers in Cairo, got up bya cel of French sneak- thieves and Yankee adventurers. That Bord du Nil has made a lie out of whole cloth, and, by Jove, I’ll complain to his highness and have the ae! stopped. There’s no such article in the Times. all a lie.” Sir Lumley, who was reading the French journal with a face like y marble and a set of the lower jaw, here forced a smile and tossed the paper on the floor, Winx “By Jove, Hamilton, I didn’t think these scoundrels had so much audacity. Where’s this fellow’s office? I shall have to give him a thrashing, I’m afraid.” ‘Leave him to me. I'll see if the Khedive allows English gentlemen to be insulted like this. By Jove, sir, if he’sanything short of an Englishman, I'll have him bastinadoed, or Pl send for the ironclads at once.” Thus blustered Hamilton, anxious to save the credit of his country by pros action, When he was arrested by a nasal voice which said: “Don’t sweat yourself, cunnel. The French paper didn’t lie. Here’s the identical article in the Times the day before that one you have.” CHAPTER XIX. A ae Re get THE speaker was a tall, thin, angular m with poe pieen-einven face, es at and a gen appearance of ungainly stresgth an shrewduest while the tones of his voice were those of the old-fashioned down-East Yankee, now nearly extinct. He was dressed in shiny black like a clergy- man, and had been sitting quietly at a distant table, reading the very paper Which he now held out with a grim smile to Colonel Hamilton. Both the Englishmen stared at him in sur- prise, and Hamilton haughtily asked him: ** Who are you, sir? 1 don’t think I have the honor of your acquaintance.” “ Waal,” returped.the American, coolly, I was one of the founders of this club—before your time, cunnel, and if you want to see my
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14 name you kin compare this card and the mem- bers’ roll-book at your leisure.” He handed the Englishman a small card on which was written “DOM GIL GRABADOR, Commandante Navio Bresiliano,.” Hamilton stared at him amazedly. He had oft seen the tall form and black beard of Dom Gil, but that individual spoke execrable Eng- lish while this man’s face was clean-shaven, his 5 eggpomed pure, and only his pronunciation nasal, ‘But you are not a Brazilian,” he at length ejaculated. ‘Why not, cunnel? My commission is every whit as straight as yours, and ‘ Pedro R.’ makes jist as prey a signature as ‘ Victoria R., to my notions. If I choose to turn my Boston name into Portuguese, I’ve just as good a right as all the French Huguenots that went into England with William of Orange to make themselves English, Haven't I?” **T don’t dispute the right, sir,” was the cold reply of Hamilton. ‘‘ Your name may be Smith or Brown for all I care.” ‘* But it’s neither, as it happens, cunnel, and Tll trouble you to remember it,” retorted the Yankee, a faint flush tinging his cheekbones. *‘ Here’s the Times, with the article quoted in the Bord du Nil, and 1 guess the Khedive won’t have to bastinado one editorthis morning. I’ve been an editor myself, cunnel, in a place where 1 had to write with a revolver in each boot and a bowie down the back of my neck; and I never took water yet on a statement of fact; and what’s more, if this French editor’s of my mind, he won’t do it either—not this time.” Hamilton had taken the paper from his hands as he began this little speech and did not at- tempt to stop his volubility, for his eyes had al- ready caught the head-lines which told him the American spoke truly. As for Sir Lumley Lawton, now that there was an open attack on him, he assumed the ap- pearance of iron calm which distinguished him at most times,and folded his arms to await Hamilton’s report. It was noticeable that, now the cold Northern races had met in open collision, the excitable and swarthy Egyptians and French had drawn themselves out of the quarrel, and were looking on, listening with hushed interest. Even testy old Halim Pasha had been silenced by Hamil- ton’s first furious denunciation of the Bord du Nil and his threat to appeal to the Khedive. The only quiet and unconcerned spectator seemed to be the Duke of Diamantina, who sat in his cane arm-chair, blowing ringsof cigarette smoke and watching the scene with a keenness that nothing escaped. Meantime Colonel Hamilton read the English article from end to end, with a countenance in which keen mortification struggled with the British sense of justice. A Frenchman would have refused to look at anything, an Italian would have torn up the paper; but the Times was the sacred representative of British re- spectability to Hamilton, and he could not doubt but that the 7imeshad printed the article, When he had finished, he turned to Sir Lum- ley and observed in a dissatisfied tone: “You'll have to look to this, Lawton. , It’s evident somebody’s put up this woman to per- sonate the Ranee and black-mail you. I’m sorry you couldn’t have got home sooner to nip it in the bud.” Sir Lumley took the paper and looked at it himself with unmoved face till he had mastered its sense, when he said coolly; ‘This will shorten my oar here. I have only to go bome to crush all this rascally con- spiracy. I see this club isa terribly mixed af- fair, old fellow. I suppose your tion com- pels you to belong to it; but, by Jove, J could- n’t afford to come here every day to meet a lot of cads. Ah, duke, is that you? Charmed to see you, I’msure. You must dine with us be- fore we leave Cairo. Can’t give you such luxuries as you have, you know, but a hearty Bingitsh welcome we can promise for yourself and your friends,” So saying, be bowed low to the duke, stuck on his hat ostentatiously before the Egyptian officers, lighted a cigar odhering openly at them ail, and then walked uietly to the door, twirling his cane as he went and whistling. Hamilton followed his example to the letter. The colonel was too much used to the swagger and bluster required in dealing with Orientals to be at all backward in bullying the Egyp- tians, and there was no one olse to bully, for Dom Gil, the Yankee Brazilian, had ey withdrawn to the table, at which he had been se gay Say coffee and paper together, and seem ed to beonce more absorbed in the news, Thus the Englishmen might have been said to come off with flying colors out of the club, and so the Duke of Diamantina quietly remarked to Halim Pasha: “Those English are devils, but they are no cowards,” the stout Albanian veteran admitted. “T could almost: have laughed at the bold bear- ing of that Sare Lomlee; but, thank Heaven, the club is rid of him.” ‘Here comes another of the race,” observed _The Duke of Diamonds. Diamantina, as Captain O’Shea, rubicund and jolly as ever, entered the club-room. But the captain appeared to be an old habitué of the club, as indeed he was, owing to his fre- quent journeys to and fro from India, for the | urchase of Government stores. He shook ands with Halim Pasha, talked vile Irish- French or worse Arabic to the other officers, and seemed to be hail-fellow-well-met with all, | ‘* Ha, duke,” he broke out, the moment he saw | Diamantina, ‘‘ I just met that murderin’ old vil- | lain, Lawton. Did ye see the blast the Times | gave him? bad luck to hith! He’s got a face on him like as if he was goin’ to a funeral and had- | n’t been asked to the wake. By the powers, it does my heart to see him. Now that vinegary old maid ’Il maybe have to give up that watch she stole, bad luck to her.” Diamantina blew a long curl of smoke ere he replied. **Do not be too sure, my dear sir. Sir Lum- ley is rich yet and the English courts are not kind to those poor devils of Hindoos.” “Ah, ye don’t know English ways, your grace. e r Ranee may never get any sat- isfaction out of the villain, but ye’ll see they'll send him to Coventry in England for this,” ‘My dear sir,” responded Diamantina, lazily, ‘fas you say, Ido not know the ways of the English. What is this Coventry you mention?” “Coventry! Well, your ce, it’s a very disagreeable place to visit. hen a man gets | there, no one will speak to him, and he might as well be dead as alive.” “This must be a charming residence, this Coventry,” observed the duke, with another puff. “Iam obliged to you for the informa- tion, capitan, Have you seen Senhor Hart this morning, sir?” “Once; and he seemed to be full of business; for he was running round in the sun hunting up some one.” Thank you, sir.” The duke threw away the last remains of his cigarette and walked to the window, passing by Dom Gil, who was still absorbed by the news. As he ed he dropped a few words in a low voice to the other, who paid no eet atten- tion to them, and then strolled into the billiard- room, leaving O’Shea talking to the Egyptians. Presently Dom Gil got up, placed a tall stove- ipe hat on his head, and walked out past BBhea: who stared in his face with some won- der, but no sign of recognition. The Yankee’s face was so changed by the clerical attire and tall hat from the physiogno- my of Dom Gil that O’Shea was quite excusable for asking Halim Pasha: ‘*Who’s that, gineral? Bedad he looks like Death come out of the grave for a holiday,” But Halim Pasha professed his own igno- rance. He had not seen the card given to Hamilton, who had pe it in his pocket, and, like all the rest, had failed to recognize Dom Gil; so that the attempt ended in idle conjec- ture. Then, when some one proposed to ask Dia- mantina, they discovered that the duke had left the club, and had been seen driving away on the new road across the bridge to the Pyramids of Ghizeh, the regular drive for fashionable visitors, , CHAPTER XX. AN EGYPTIAN EDITOR, In the meantime Dom Gil Grabador, after leaving his club, continued his way, with a tranquillity undisturbed by his unsuitable at- tire (the thermometer s at 98° in the shade) to the business ques tee of the Ezbekiah, where he entered a building full of offices and pores at the door of a little back room, which bore the legend, ‘‘ Bord du Nil—Bureau d’ Editeur,” which in English is simply, ‘‘Taz Nite Bank —EpIToR’s OFFICE.” “ Entrez !” said a voice, and Dom Gil found | himself in the sanctum of the editor of that in- fluential journal which had caused such a com- | motion in the Khedive Club, The editor was a pale, keen-looking, middle- aged man, with a gray mustache and a general air of overwork, incident to performing the duties of proof-reader, leader-writer, advertis- ing agent, reporter and book-keeper in one, in the city of Cairo in May—with the arduous of- fice of bill-collector thrown in. He had told Dom Gil to enter in French, but it was in un- mistakable Wew York fang that he greeted him when the other was fairly inside. “Well, old fellow, what’s the racket now? | Spit her out quick, for I’m in a devil of a hurry to catch the mail.” And he scribbled away. Dom Gil allowed his grim features to relax into a smile as he said: ‘‘ Let the mail wait. I’ve got a check to your order, Frankly.” be W. Frankly, editor in chief of the Bord du Nil, threw down his pen and positively laughed as he turned to Dom Gil, though the tears were in his eyes as he did so. “Well, by Jove, that’s a thing I’ve not seen for months. Running a paper in Cairo ain’t what it’s cracked up to be, old fellow. I was ust sen: a line home to the old Spy, to ask or the pos of Egyptian and Levantine cor- respondent, to keep the wolf from the door, What's it for, old boy?” **Call it ‘political services,’ and pass it to our account,” was the evasive reply, as Dom il passed over the check he had mentioned to the other, Frankly looked at in amazement and joy. ‘* Two hundredliras! Smithand Brown, bank- ers! Why, what’s this for?” ‘* For av article in your last paper about In- dia. Smith and Brown are interested in a little claim on the British Government, and your article hit the nail on the head. Keep it up, Frankly, and I'll bring you such another next week. sreaey looked hesitatingly at the check and asked: ‘What articledo you mean? That Lawton business? Lonly copied that.” ‘‘Exactly. But for all that, Colonel Hamil- ton and Lawton himself were nearly comin, down to interview you with a big stick about it. Frankly laughed. He was a thin, wiry man with a firm chin, and ears set very close to his head, one of the type that prize-fighters call ‘* game to the backbone.” ‘They might run on a suag if they tried that, Gibby,” he remarked, ‘‘ Do you remember the time we used to do the local business down in Galveston, before the war? Those Texans make an Englishman seem like a whale in shoal water, beside them. But go on. What am 1 | todo?” ‘‘Keep this up; that’s all. There will be a heavy pressure on you to disavow any agree- ment with thatarticle in your next issue. hen do you come out?” ‘* To-morrow.” ‘Exactly. Well, we want you to indorse the article in an editorial, and bluff off the Eng- lishman if he comes, If you do this, you'll get another check next week.” Frankly hesitated again. “Perhaps you don’t know what you’re ask- ing. As long as I copy the Times and keep a still mouth, ’m permitted to starve in decent quiet, but if I express an editorial opinion, I lay myself liable to a visit from the police and seizure of the edition.” ‘* As far as that goes, my people will see that the Khedive does not interfere with you. The edition will sell like wild-fire, and if you want the leader and the facts, here are both of them.” And Dom Gil pulled out a little roll of paper and handed it to the other, whoran oyer it with the practiced eye of an exchange editor. hen he had.finished he shook his head. ‘*Won’t do, Gi. Id like to oblige you, but that’s too strong. Why, they could have me up for libel in any court in the world.” ‘* Well, suppose they do, and you have a backer to pay the costs and see you through. How much will you take to fight it out?” Frankly considered a moment, “The risk’s worth at least twenty thousand dollars, and I should have to leave the country in the end. You don’t know how strong the English are here.” ‘“Then here is something will satisfy you on all points,” said Dom Gil, veg & * Remem- ber it’s in confidence and only to secure you in case you have any doubts.” He handed Frankly a letter which the other read slowly, two or three times, before he said a word in answer, Then he turned on Dom Gil a face in which a — deal of emotion was manifest and replied the other’s look of inquiry: oa Yes, Gibby, Pll do it. Inever dreamed of is. ‘And yet you might have known, if you hadn’t been a regular old duffer, George,” re- torted Dom Gil, with forced jocularity, two suspicious drops standing in the corner of his eyes. “I wouldn’ ig you in a hole for all the money in Asia. ill you pitch into Lawton now? ‘* By the great horn spoon which Nebuchad. ° nezzar used for his mush and milk, I'll scarify that old villain so that he'll leave Egypt. You see if I don’t.” And the editor of the Bord du Nil tucked the check into his pocket, seized his pen, and plung- ed into his work as Dom Gil left the office. CHAPTER XXI. RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. Tue little trouble at the Khedive Club did not affect Sir Lumley Lawton to any great out- ward extent, He.had been in a measure pre- pared for it by the unexpected meeting with the Princess Euphrosyne Melapetros, and he had no doubt in bis own mind that she and the lost Ranee of Krishnapoor were one and the same person. The very name, “‘Melapetros,” wasa mere Greek translation for the maiden name under which she had passed in India; for it meant ‘‘ Black Stone ” (or Rock). How well he remembered Effie Blackstone in those old days before the —, She was one of those unfortunate beings in Indian sig asf occupying almost the same tion once held by our own ocetoroons, though not accompanied by the legal taints of slavery and bastardy. Her father, Ensign Blackstone of the Porty. second Foot (of the famous ‘‘ Black Watch ” ef
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a —_— — Fontenoy), had, while yeta raw “ Griff ” (green- horn), fallen madly in love with a native girl. Worse than that, he had actually married her under the sanction of a Wesleyan missionary who had educated poor Luchmee from the time she was thrown as an infant into the Ganges for the crocodiles, whence he rescued her, to the day she became, to her simple wonder and de- light, a real “‘Sahib’s lady. oor Luchmee! hers was a history rarely met with outside of India. Who were her parents, was problematical. All the missionary knew of her was that he saw ber floating by in a basket one morning, like Moses in the old pictures, with the addition of a dozen crocodiles coming after her, scenting prey. At the risk of his life the worthy man had fished her out, just in time to cheat the crocodiles, took her home to his wife, and both accepted the little brown maid as a gift from Heaven; one bond fide convert to Christianity. That Luchmee, beautiful like all her beauti- ful race, talkin — well, and having all the education of a white girl in the same sta- tion, should be a bewitching creature even to English officers, is not surprising; and the Lo- tharios of at least a dozen marching regiments and two crack cavalry —— had laid siege to her whenever garrison duty called them to Modbad, where Missio ilson labored. But inasmuch as their intentions were in no case honorable, and Mrs. Wilson was a ver of watchfulness, no one succeeded, till young Malcolm Blackstone, with the scent of the heather still in his hair, came, like a green, honest country lad as he was, married Luchmee after a three days’ courtship, and realized, with- in three days more, that he had made a terrible and fatal mistake, Not alady in the garrison would visit his new wife; and most of them refused even to recog- nize himself. His comrades were cool and dis- tant, and made his position so uncomfortable that he was glad to resign and go into civil em- ployment at Allahabad, where Effie was born. Poor Lucnmee did not know howshe was ostra- «ised, for the simple reason that she never had mingled with any Europeans except her foster- parents, and therefore did not miss their so- ciety ; but her husband, who had all the sensi- tiveness of a poor and proud man, was cut to the heart at finding himself relegated to the companionship of Hindoos, among whom he was disliked and suspected. He loved his beau- tiful child-wife (Luchmee wasa woman at four- teen and wed at fifteen), and always treated her with tenderness; but when she died, after a — of married life, leaving baby Effie behind er, it is questionable whether her husband did not feel a certain senes of relief. His position in English society was now capa- ble of betterment, and he soon found himself rising in the civil service, owing to the know- ledge of natives and their languages obtained by him from the circumstances of his marriage. ffie, therefore, grew up in a nomadic sort of way, owing to the frequent and rapid transfers of her father from post to post all over India, till by the time she was a full-grown woman of fourteen (in India equal to eighteen or twenty in Europe) she could talk a dozen languages flu- ently, read a little English, play a little on the guitar, sing and dance divinely; though the multiplication table was a mystery to her. Then it was that Lumley Lawton, a married man himself, set his cold, cruel eyes on her and coveted her. He saw her social position anom- alous, like that of her mother, no white lady recognizing her, while the men paid her a uestionable r t, tinged with a licentious evotion that only failed to hurt heron account of her utter innocence of all guile. Her father, immersed in business, beut only on makin money with which to leave India, saw little o his child and left her exposed to all sorts of dan- gers, unsuspecting their nature. Lumley Lawton was then a civil service man, page art! occupying the post of secretary to the Rajah of Krishnapoor, really a paid spy on that gallant ma prince. Two years fore the outbreak of the mutiny he was offered by the British Government the post of Resident minister at the court which the Rajah eagerly urged him to accept, on the ground that he pre- ferred an old friend toa new face, and almost atithe same time the Rajah wooed and won Effie Blackstone, for whose sweet sake he con- sented to abjure polygamy and be married in Christian fashion by the same devoted Metho- dist missionary who had been the only grand- father Effie ever knew. Well did Sir Lumley call all this to mind as he sat in the smoking-room at Shepherd’s Hotel, looking out into the glare of the Peyptian sun- light, through the crevices of the blinds and thinking over the past. Well did he remember the day, —_ after the massacre of Cawnpoor, when he had tried to induce Effie to leave her husband and flee to Calcutta, promising to se- cure her the Rajah’s treasures and a brilliant life in England as his own wife. He was a widower by this time, his only daughter, Helen a baby in England, his son, Owen, at Eton; and he could have kept his word. He told her that the Rajah’s sym with the rebels, and that it woul thies were be easy to ten aan ¢ trump up a charge against him in the excited state of English feeling, and moreover that Kalidasa was away on a pretended hunting ex- pedition at that very time. The rebuff that was given him by the Ranee stung him even now, Gabe? years after the date, as he sat brooding over it in Cairo. She told him that a single hair of Kalidasa’s | head was dearer to her than all he could offer | her, that she had hated him from the first mo- ment she saw him, and that if he did not leave the palace that moment she would summon the | ¢ uards and have his head taken off, if it cost | er life and kingdom. “But I paid him up for it,” muttered Sir Lumley, to himself; “ and as for the death-war- rant, Lord Lawrence winked at the irregulari- ties and the statute of limitations bars the rest. l’ve nothing to fear.” Even while he —_— he heard the loud, rol- licking tones of O’Shea in the passage, coming toward the room and talking to some one, CHAPTER XXII. FATHER AND SON. ‘Dom Gin? Divil a one o’ me’s seen him, What's the matter?” ‘*Oh, nothing ; rant I want to meet him very much, O'Shea,” replied the voice of a stranger, and into the room came O’Shea and a young man in the semi-Oriental dress affected by Euro- peans in Egypt. They glanced over at Sir Lumley, who was dimly visible in the darkened room, and the young man lowered his voice. ‘Do you remember what I told you about my uncle, O'Shea?” ‘Yes, Gilkarvah, ye mean!” “The same. Dom Gil’s the man.” **D’ye mean it now ?” “I’m sure of it. I’ve been hunting over a dic- tionary and find that Grabador is merely \a translation of Carver.” the conversing low and earnestly. = There's that pote de Irishman,” muttered Lawton to himself. ‘‘I was a fool to buy his silence with a commission, when a dangerous errand among the mutineers might have rid me of his tongue and himself. If he and the Ranee put their heads together they may make that watch affair look ugly forme. I wish Owen was here.” Sir Lumley began to realize that he was past his prime, and to lean for help in emergencies on his son’s stern will and more active frame. He felt lonely on this hot day in Cairo, the more so that Helen and Lorelia were sleeping away the noontime up-stairs, and the hotel was de- serted save by a few perspiring waiters. He rose and went over to the telegraph office, where the operator was dozing in his chair. “ Anything for me?” **'You? let me see, sir—what name?” “Sir Lumley Lawton.” Positively he felt reluctant to say it aloud in Cairo, since that article in the Bord du Nil. The operator looked up at him in a startled, interested way, as if he too had heard the name, and answered: o Yes, sir. Here’s atelegram from Aden for ou. Sir Lumley tore open the envelope and read with eager delight: **Coaling finished. Shall be in Cairo on the 27th. Meet you at the club. OweEn.”’ Then his face fell, and he began to gnaw his under lip. Owen was to meet him at the club: that very club which had refused to oe him the usual courtesies that morning. 6 must manage to intercept him before he got there. ‘‘ What time does the train from Suez get in here?” he asked the clerk at the desk of the ig as that worthy individual dozed in the t eat. The clerk woke up confusedly. “Train to Suez? Yes,sir. Six P. M.” “No, no, from Suez here I mean,” said Sir Lumley, impatiently. “Oh, yes, sir. Beg pardon, sir. Two trains. One leaves Suez at daylight, gets here 10:55 a. M. Other’s the night train—10:40 p.m. Carries mail, sir, Very few passengers. P. and O, peo- ple all come in morning train.” “Thank you.” Sir Lumley turned away to look at his tele- gram. “Shall be in Cairo on the 27th. That’s—what day of the month is this?” To the clerk this, in his usual quick, snappish way. ‘* The twenty -seventh, sir, Monday.” +6 To-day y Sir Lumley felt the sweat run down his face. Owen must be here already, and must have gone to the club. By this time he knew all; must have seen the obnoxious paper, perhaps had quarreled with some one abdat ti ‘“Why didn’t I get this telegram sooner” he - The Duke of Diamonds, ~— 15 asked, fiercely, of the operator, anxious to vent his spleen on some one, & “lt was marked ‘to be called for,’ sir. I didn’t know you by sight. I’m not to blame. It’s been lying here.two days or more.” Sir Lumley growled out something very like a profane malediction and went rapidly out of the hotel, taking the direction of the Khedive Club, quite regardless of the heat. Some hundreds of donkey boys, seeing an Englishman, marked him for their lawful pre or came down like a swarm of locusts, shou ing: eDonkey, howadji! Berry good! Run like deer! Backshish, howadji!” They supplemented theirbroken English with a long string of Arabic curses and _jeers, on the enerally safe idea that the howadji would un- erstand the English and take the Arabic for compliments. But Sir Lumley wasin no mood to stand their noise, and he laid about him so fiercely with his stick, with a shower of Arabic epithets as bad as their own, that the whole tribe fled in dis- may, calling to one another that this was a devil, not a quiet howadji. Heunderstood them. Then the Englishman pursued his way in peace, and the t person he met aescending the steps of the club was the Duke of Diaman- tina. Never so strongly as at that moment did the fatal likeness to the dead Rajah strike Sir Lum- ley as he looked at the duke, courteous and smiling, the brilliant beauty of his dark —- line features set off by the broad shadow of his turbaned hat, his white costume of faultless urity. The ex-Resident of Krishnapoor could ave sworn Kalidasa stood before him. > The duke was going to his carriage, which waited for him, and he lifted his bat with his usual bland smile as he passed Sir Lumley. A sudden impulse made the older man speak to him, bluntly and ponsiggg **T know who you are. hat do you want of me, Kalidasa?’ Diamantina raised his eyebrows in polite sur- rise. san Sir Lumley Lawton! J want of you? My dear sir, you must be careful: this sun is ve dangerous. Your eye looks wild: you wi haveastroke, You must go home. My man shall drive you. Nay, nay, my dear sir, I in- sist. And before Sir Lumley could resist, the duke half-led, half-pushed him to the carriage, re- peating: “The doctor said it was a case of very nearly sunstroke yesterday, and you are not quite right in your head yet. My dear sir, you must et in. I will take no denial. Pedro shall rive you back to the hotel at once, and then you must lie down.” ‘ ets here Sir Lumley at last broke out, impa- iently : ‘*T tell you I’m as well as you are. Have 1 seen my son Captain Lawton in the club? hat’s all I ask.” ‘*Captain Lawton?” asked the duke, medita- tively, as if trying to recollect. “Yes, Captain Owen Lawton, Royal British Navy,” retorted the father, in the same exas- perated tone. ‘‘ Have you seen him to-day?” ‘*My dear sir, let me think. I see so man people. Captain Lawton, the son of the dis- tinguished Sir Lumley? I think I have. Yes, sir, lL have seen the gentleman in the Red Sea. Miss Helena will tell you how he fired a shell at the yacht, when his sister was on board, It was a mistake, you know, my good sir.” ** But have you seen him ay, Lask?” Sir Lumley’s patience, never great, was giving way, and his tone was fierce. The duke stepped back a pace, looking at the Englishman sidewise with the same provoking smile on his face, extracted a tigarette-case from his pocket, opened it, and proffered it to Sir Lumley. ‘Will you not smoke, sir? The tobacco is from my own plantation in the Vuelta Abajo. It has the true flavor.” ‘No. I don’t want to smoke. Since you will not answer me, I'll ring the bell. Good- day, duke.” A Good-day my dear sir.” The duke ‘lifted his hat with his sweetest smile, while Sir Lumley ascended the steps of the club-house and rung the bell. The smile became one of triumphant meaning a moment later as Diamantina stepped into his carriage and was whirled away. ; As for Sir Lumley, his task was sufficiently embarrassing. He had to ask for his son ina club from which he had been virtually expell- ed that very morning; and it was with a burn- ing face and in a low tone that he asked the waiter, who opened the door, whether Captain Lawton was in the club. As he spoke, he slip- ped a piece of silver into the man’s hand. The waiter became confidential in a moment. He would not have been a club waiter if he had not known every item of scandal about the lace. oe Yes. Captain Lawton wasin. He was one of the original members. The tlemen kad kept from him the trouble in paper, He came in that very morning, soon after Sir Lau»
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16 ley left, and there had been some talk between him and the Duke of Diamantina in a private lor with some friends. Would monsieur like see the captain at once?” “No; tell him I’m at Shepherd’s, and that I want to see him as soon as he can come over; that’s all.” The waiter bowed silent thanks for a second douceur, and went to Captain Lawton, whom he found in close confabulation with no less a person than Colonel Hamilton. He delivered his message in the proper con- fidential style, and Owen Haseena to Hamil- ton in a low, bitter tone: ** You see: the poe old governor’s losing his hold, He was afraid to come in and see me. By Jove, Hamilton, I’ll eall out the whole club, man after man, but what I'll have satisfaction for this cowardly insult. I’ll—” “Better get through with the one on hand, first,” remarked Hamilton, in a tone of grim jocularity. ‘*That fellow’s a rattler with the foils, I’m told.” **Wedon’t use the small sword. I have the choice; and I chose sabers. I can cut any in- fernal foreigner that ever wore hair all to pie- ees with that, or I wouldn’t be where I am, now.” Owen Lawton stretched his long limbs and SA 0 ren g as fine and stalwart a specimen of the to see, ** Well, good-by, Hamilton; you’ll let me have what you promised,” he said, aloud, and the brother Briton nod * Allright, old boy.” Owen lost no time in hurrying to Shepherd’s, where he found his father waiting anxiously in the smoking-room, whence the two proceeded to a parlor and locked themselves in. ** Now, sir, in the first place, please don’t hesi- tate to enter that club to see me, any more,” be- | an Owen, with hisarmround Sir Lumley’sneck. ‘You shall come into that club whenever you like, and J’ll pitch the first man out of the win- dow that offers so much as to look askance at you. [ve been to the executive committee and insisted that they shall strike the Bord du Nil off the list of club papers; and if that infernal editor dares to say another word on his own re- sponsibility, Ill cut hisears off. Is that plain?” The tears came into Sir Lumley’s eyes; for the strain of public opprobrium began to tell on him heavily at fifty-five. “God bless you, Owen, God bless you, my boy. Il could stand it for myself, but I tremble if Helen hears any of this.” ‘*She needn’t, sir Tell aunt Lora to keep the Bord du Nii away. That’s the only paper has republished the Zimes article here. We'll make them sweat for this when we get home.” “*Oh, yes, yes, of course,” returned Sir Lum- ley, hastily, “They've no sort of ground for an action, Owen; and, besides that, the King’s | Beneb has no jurisdiction over Indian affairs. It’s a mere blackmailing scheme of some people in England, who think they have got a hold on me in that Krishnapoor business.” “ Jf course, sir. I know that. The Ranee’s dead, long ago; isn’t she?” “Of course, Owen. Don’t you see, my boy, theinfernalartfulnessof thiswholescheme? The Ranee’s dead, and eee y some woman of in- trigue has cot hold of her watch. It was the mate of Lorelia’s, you know. The Rajah and I had them made at the same time, and he gave his to his wife; I mine to my sister. Your poor mother had been dead a few months, then, and | Lfelt that I cared for nothing more in life. The whole of this business hangs on those watches, and you'll see it.” Owen nodded, well satisfied. “Of course, sir. No need of giving me any explanation.. The Ranee’s dead, and so0’s the Rajah’s brat, Kalidasa. I only wish we had the money they hid away from us.” : **We have some of it, Owen,” observed Sir Lumley, with a chuckle. CHAPTER XXIII. THE CODE OF HONOR, “Wert, sir,” observed Owen at this momen and looking at his watch, ‘‘I fear I can’ dine with you. I have a little A pointment for the vt ger and expect a men “Where, Owen?” asked his father, in sur- ge every mo- rise. * ‘Only a drive, sir,” answered the captain, evasively. ‘*1’ll be back about half an hour after sunset, swrely.” “Which direction do you drive, Owen? If you like, [ll go with you.” “Well, thank you, sir, but on this occasion I'd rather not. ‘I shall have company, and I don’t want to expose you tothe sun. You can’t stand it as 1 can, sir. “Oh, very well, Owen,” was the rather of- reply; “‘as you_please. I'll not force my com on you. By the by—” here Bir Lom ey turned slacply on his son and snapped out: “Why eel tell me you knew the Duke oie noe sir? Because I don’t.” ritish naval officer as one would wish | ded compliance with an | Don’t know him?” : ** Not except for a casual introduction at sea, | sir” | | when he saved your sister’s life. Didn’t you hear the story ?” ; ‘Oh, yes, sir... I shall always be as ‘polite to the duke as our position iu the world requires,” ** What do you mean?” ‘*Why, sir, you may be Lord Loughborough any day in the week, as soon as my uncle Owen dies, and I shall be the Hon. Owen Lawton. Surely an English peer’s the equal of any beg- garly Brazilian that ever wore shoe-leather, I hope.” ir Lumley grunted assent to this truly Brit- ish speech and Owen went on: “This life-saving business is all very roman- tic, you know, sir, and all that sort of thing; but it won’t do to have a parcel of beggarly foreign dukescoming after my sister, you know; will it?” “But, to tell the truth, Owen, this duke’s not a beggar by any means. In fact, he’s quite—” “Tf now, I know, sir. He has money enough somewhere, and behaves like a gentleman. I don’t object to associating with him at the club, you know—” * What were you talking about, then, you and he, at the club?” asked Sir Lumley, sud en- ly remembering the waiter’s ake Owen looked steadily at his father. ‘*T never saw him, sir.” ** Never saw him! Why, the club waiter — he saw you go into a private room with the duke and some of his friends.” “The club waiter was drunk or lying, sir. But come, it’s tima I was off. -by, sir.” ‘‘Owen,” interrupted Sir Lumley, catching his son by the arm, “‘ you’re going to fight a duel with the duke. Don’t deny it. T see it plainly. He pretended he’d not seen you, and you pretend you’ve not seen him, when I know you both saw each other. What's it all about?” ‘*What’s all what about, sir?” ** Come: don’t pretend innocence. I’ve been out myself, young man, Is it about this club affair?” ‘*No, sir, nothing to do with it.” “Ts it about Helen or me?” ‘* Nothing of the sort, sir.” “Ts it about this watch story?” **No, sir. I must say that the duke publicly expressed his belief that the whole story was false, and as publicly announced that he was your friend.” Sir Lumley looked perfectly stunned for a re aa from causes that Owen did not under- stand. “Did he say he disbelieved it, and that he was my friend?” ‘Certainly he did, sir, before Halim Pasha, Hamilton and a dozen others. It was very handsome in him, I must say.” “Then what in the name of all that’s won- derful, are you going to fight about, Owen?” “ve not admitted we are going to do any- thing of the kind, sir.” **Oh! Confound your honorable code, boy! What have you differed with Diamantina about?’ ‘* Well, sir, he took offense at my firing a shot yA his yacht to bring him to, I apologized or it, * Well, that ended it; didn’t it?” *SYos.-sib.” ‘Then what else had you to differ about Owen?” ‘* Helen, sir.” ** Helen!” “Yes, sir. He took offense at my asking Helen to leave the yacht and come aboard the Snapper. She didn’t come anyhow; but he in- sisted that m uest was a reflection on his homor, and Bs ove I couldn’t give him any apology for that, A know, so—” “You fight to-night: is it so?’ asked Sir Lum- ley, eagerly. Owen was silent. Then the elder man went up to the younger and pressed his arm close. “‘Owen,” he said, in a low, grating voice, “vou must kill that man.” Owen started. “Kill him, sir? Nay I only mean to slash him a little. He saved Helen ‘and my aunt af- ter all. Idon’t want to fight him, to tell the truth; but he insists on it.” ‘Nevertheless, Owen, you must kill the Duke of DEMS TIED, if you can,” said Sir Lumley, y. Owen stared at his father in great surprise, and hesitated for several moments before he an- swered: *T can hardly do that, sir, without creating a scandal, It’s foreign to the Code, you see, and we're fighting strictly on the point of hon- or. Sir Lumley uttered a harsh and disagreeable laugh. «Points of honor and Codes! Do you remem- ber that this is 1877, boy? What have we to do with Codes? Do you mean to say you’re going to let him kill yout” * By no moana sir.” The Duke of Diamonds. | | A retty sort of casual introduction, Owen, | me. } ‘* Then what do you mean?’ ‘*Simply this, sir. I came to Cairo to meet the duke. If I had not, he would have posted He’s the challenger, and I’1n going to give him a lesson for forcing a quarrel on me. But I can’t kill him. -Remember he saved Helen and aunt Lora, It wouldn’t be the thing, you know.” Sir Lumley smiled in a grim and disagreeable way. 1 May I ask then how you're going to gve him the lesson you speak of?” “Certainly, sir. I’ve chosen sabers for wea- pons. I never met the man I was afraid to tackle with them, and I intend to give the duke such a cut as will keep him from challengin any more English officers with their natio weapon.” The baronet compressed his lips in an ill-tem- pered way. “Well, Owen, all I can say m yoeee a bigger fool than I thought. In a duel, always kill your manif youcan. Good-by.” “*Good-by, sir.” Father and son parted a little stiffly. Sir Lumley felt keenly disappointed at his failure to induce his son to commit murder under the guise of a duel, and Owen felt hurt at his fa- ther’s apparent indifference to his danger. The fact was that Sir Lumley did not dare to expose his motive to hisson. He feltas helpless as a prisoner .chained to the stake for torture. He dared not tell any one what he knew, that the Duke of Diamantina was- young Kalidasa, the rightful Prince of Krishnapoor. To do so would be to acknewledge a foundation for the rumors he was denying so strenuously. Es- cially did he shrink from letting his children ioe the truth. They had always respected him, and he could not bear to forfeit their re t. spect. He watched Owen in silence as he left the par- lor and went into the street and saw him enter a waiting carriage and drive away with Colonel Hamilton, the outline of whose figure he caught through the glass. ‘Lhon, full of uneasiness, he strolled. away from the hotel, heedless of the sun, buried in his own gloomy thoughts, till he found himself in the bazaars, the only cool place in all Cairo on that scorching day. Here he managed to while away part of the afternoon till the calls of the muezzins from the minarets warned him that the hour for eveni prayer was come, and with it the coolness o sunset, which invited him to return to Shep- herd’s. The band was playing in the park of the Ez- bekiah as he came back; the streets were full of po the watering-carts were jolting along; gyptian beys and pashas were taking their evening canter; and aJl Cairo was out, when the old diplomat walked back through the streets to Shepherd’s; almost the only Frank on foot in sight. He caught the glances of more than one of the haughty mounted officers cast on him as they passed with an expression of curiosity, and noticed that he was the subject of comment and conversation, which his now morbid fancy in- terpreted to his own disadvantage. he hue ef his sunburnt face deepened to crimson, and he turned his head angrily away as he trudged on to the hotel; but, once on the steps, he turned proudly round, as if to face all the world and defy it. As he had expected, he found several Egyp- tian officers looking at and pointing to him as all passed; for club scandal flies quickly in t. Ginchin his hands angrily, and looking sternly back at them, every eye turned from his, and the rude equestrians rode on, abashed. Then he heard the rapid patter of hoofs and saw a lady and gentleman on horseback coming down the street, rather an unusual sight in Cairo till within the last few years. Something in the outline of the figures struck him as familiar, and brought the blood from his face to his heart, leaving him of a gray pal- lor. Then they dashed by, the gentleman liftin his white helmet hat in the most marked an stately courtesy, while the lady bowed with pr y public recognition to the amazed baro- net. Sir Lumley involuntarily, with the mechani- cal instinet of early breeding, doffed his broad turban hat aud stood bareheaded in the sunset, asifa king and queen were passing by. His eyes could not leave them whether he ‘vould or no, and he stood staring after them like a man in a dream till they were lost in the crowd of vehicles and equestrians going eastward, It was not yet sunset. Owen had promised to be back by this time, and yet he was nowhere visible. But the unhappy father had but just seen, with his own eyes, his son’s antagonist, the Duke of Diamantina, alive, unhurt, gay and debonnair, riding by with the Princess Mela- tros, as if duels were —— cries sees the world of riches to which they belonged. Their ap ce at moment seemed to on Sir Lumley Lawton’s brain with the distinctness of @ photograph. He
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tae ~ eee N z P Tp ee = B = _ —_ The Duke of Diamonds. 17 could see them both, by all means the hand somest pair in Cairo. The princess, whom he knew to be thirty-six, locked like the duke’s sister, in her tight riding habit, English style, with its tall hat and vail. Diamantina, in a white riding dress of severe simplicity, looked, as he was, a perfect cava- lier; and even in their rapid passage, Sir Lum- ley noted the extraordinary beauty of their animals, dark chestnut mares without spot or blemish of any sort, the flower of Fyzoul Ab- dallah’s stud. He had heard the history of their escape from Helen, and all Cairo was rav- ing about Al Sabok and the two mares. hen Sir Lumley started, to find himself bare- headed, gazing after the duke; and he hastily clapped on his hat and went into the hotel. soon as he made his appearance in the of- fice, the clerk, now wide awake and full of busi- ness, accosted him tfully: ‘‘ Letter for you, Sir Lumley—Colonel Ham- ilton left it, Said it needed no answer, sir.” With pape that trembled in spite of them- | selves, Sir Lumley tore open the note. He felt what was in store for him, and kept his iron calm of manner as he read: “Dear Srr Lumiey: Please come over to the con- sulate as soon as Ste can; but keep the thing quiet, for it’s an affair of honor. Owen's been hurt pretty badly—not ny aS a age know, but very painful and much loss of blood. Keepit from the ladies, and every one else. ours, ‘REGINALD HaMILTon.”’ Sir Lumley kept his face inscrutable and ask- | ed the clerk, as he folded up the note: ‘‘ Where's the consulate?’ But not waiting for the answer, he stalked out, jumped into a hack and drove over to the British Consulate, which every one in Cairo new. He asked for Colonel Hamilton, and was met | by that gentleman himself, who hurricd him to his own private apartments in baste, There Sir Lumley broke down and gasped: ‘*What is it, Hamilton? Is the boy dead? Tell me the worst.” The consul-general shoo’s his head, **No, no; not as bad as that, But that Bra- zilian’s a devil with the sword. Poor Owen will lose his right arm. In fact it’s just been ampu- tated, to save his life.” Sir Lumley uttered a hollow groan and sunk powerless into a chair. CHAPTER XXIV, THE EXTRA SHEET, THe Bord du Nil made its bow to tie foreign public of Cairo every Saturday morning, with a regularity that testified to Mr. Frankly’s talents a: a bill collector: for it is a melancholy fact that weekly and daily journals cannot be printed without money to pay printers and paper-makers. ike many other Levantine papers, it was published in two languages, half being iu Ital- jan, the other half French, with an occasional extra edition in which English was substituted for one of the other languazes. Most of these polyg.os papers are edited by vagabond Italians, who murder the English arts of their journals in a ¢hast!v manner; but he Bord du Nil was an honorable exception to the rule. Frankly had been in Erept for at least ten years, having drifted there from another ten are in Europ*, and had become a very expert inguist in ell the Mediterranean tongues, with a large stock ot Arabic i the form cf slang. Like most newspaper m>n of his roving ways, he was a Bohemian writer, who delighted in nothing so much as a “slashing” article, and believed devoutly in the power of the press, muzzled though it bein Kgypt. On the day after that in which Sir Lumley had been s‘urned by the vnexpected disaster eo agrigces 0 his son, the Bord du Nil came out withan En |: i extra which was hawked about the streets 0 Cii:o in true Yankee fashion, and sold like wi'dfire, as Dom Gil had predicted. Clarence Hart, who had been hunting all over the city to fiud Dom Gil Grabador, whom he had at la:t begun to suspect of being the miss- ing Gilbert Carv r, heard the boys yelling out their praises of the paper in a dozen different languages, an’ eau ht the words: “Gran due lo entre el Duque de Diamantina el signor Inglese.” (Great duel between the = open of Diamantina and the English gentle- man. Much surprised, for he had not heard a whis- per of any such thing, he bought a paper at once, paying double price in his ignorance of Cariene prices, and saw before him a real news- paper, with an extra sheet, printed in English, with displayed head lines, short graphs, and a general ‘‘newsy” appearance that did his heart good. It looked Siice baene He had not been able to find Dom Gil since they first entered Cairo, for the Brazilian had suddenly disappeared from the house of Dia- mantina as soon as he had set it in order for his chief, and the duke did not give Clarence any information on the subject. Therefore Hart, feeling uneasy and anxious, lunged into the paper rather to distract his oughts than for any other purpose. ay | waving his sword in close prosimity to the other’s ‘head. Any one could see that Bull's life was in his | nameless. The D. of D. and Capt. O. L. of H, B. M. His eye was immediately caught by the head- lines, arranged in true sensational style: “TRAE WAGER OF BATTLE. DIAMONDS ARE TRUMPS. Sanguinary Duel Between Foreigners. Northern Beef Against Southern Nerve. THE SOUTH WINS!!!!” The account beneath these startling headings was as follows: Thanks to the unequaled energy of our STAFF. the Niue Bank is to-day the only paper in the world tba: contains an account of the duet fought behind the great pyramid of Gizeh, while our regular edition was going to press, ** We were (here. “The Nive Bank staff wouldn’t miss a duel like that. We're not in that business. “Tt was all arranged in a club-house that shall be | Navy, had a little difference about a lady who shall be nameless, and agreed to carve each other, in gen- tlemanly style, behind the great pyramid, at six o'clock P. M. “To accommodate them, we kept back our regu- | lar edition for a couple of hours, and we had our re- ward. Both men were on time. “The duel was just perfect. “The appearance of the combatants when they stripped was a great contrast. The English person | was a two hundred-pounder, with a good deal of fat about him. He looked solid but slow. “The D. of D. was what our old friend John C. Heenan would have called a toon, 2 With fifty unds less on his bones than Jobn Bull, he was as | nard as a nut and as quick as a flash of Jersey light- | ning. ‘*No time was lostin preliminaries, We shall not give the names of the seconds, because it might not do them any good with the Khedive, but will only say this: They were (here all the time. ‘John Bull got to work as soon as the blades cross- ed, with a well-intended cut at the D.’s head, Un- fortunately the rentleman from Brazil was not there when it came, and Mr. Bull had a narrow escape from decapitation in return. ‘Then ensued the queerest duel we ever saw. After the first clash the blades neyer crossed; and | John Bulbhad to stand on the defensive, while the D. of D. was most of the time behind his enemy’s back foe's hands whenever he wished fo take it. “ At last, furious and disappointed, the Englishman managed to catch the D. with his left hand, and threw back his sword to give a down cut that would have split his skull. In that mstant up went the D.’s saber, and cut off his enemy's arm just above the elbow, as clean asif it had been done by a surgeon. | “We had the pleasure of examining the weapon | with which this feat was performed, and found that it was just as sharp as the razor of the best barber in Cairo. “This ended the affair at once. Two surgeons were on hand, and they had the artery tied in a | iffy, while the D. of D., with a polite bow to his late | oe, went off to keep aucngagement with a lady.” Thus ended the account in the Bord du Nil of | what Hart began to think nothing but an inge- nious hoax. e had seen the duke on the — vious evening, and he certainly did not look like | a.man who had just been fighting a duel. Hart had found himat home, just preparing | for his evening ride with the princess, and the | duke had been as quiet and gracious as usual. | To bis own inquiry after Dom Gil, Diamantina had answered: ‘‘ Ma dear sare, I never keep track of Dom Gil. He comes and goes, and as long as the household goes well I ask no questions. Au re- voir, sare. I shall not need your services till to-morrow afternoon. Till then, see Cairo. Enjoy yourself.” nd that was all. Dom Gil had not been home all night; none of the servants knew anything about him; and Hart had all day been hunting for him in vain through Cairo. The article in the Bord du Nil interested him | so much that he glanced through the rest of the paper to see if there was anything else that concerned him or bis friends, He soon came to the French leader which was repeated in Italian on the opposite page. It was much shorter than the account of the due], and in a different style. It said: | ‘We regret to record the withdrawal by consent from the rolls of the Khedive Club of thename of Sir Lumley Lawton, in consequence of the article we copied from last week’s London Times, Sir Lumley should have insisted on open charges and showed himself innocent. His retreat shows that he fears an investigation. We are able to say from private information that the watch of the Rajah of Krishna- poor, which Sir Lumley obtained by such peculiar means, is now in Cairo, sported by a lady who seems to be quite proud of the stolen property. Respect for the sex alone restrains us from Aa ner name, | but we would advise Sir Lumley to seek land as soon as may be. \ Egyptian air is fatal to fly-blown reputations.” Then Hart folded up his paper and fell into a fit of deep musing as he walked homeward. He was too acute not to have divined from all he had seen the identity of the duke and the rincess. O’Shea’s stories told him at various imes before they ever saw the cuke had pre pared him for it, and the princess’s emotion at sight of Sir Lumley told him the rest. He only wondered at his own infatuation in not sooner recognizing his uncle, Gilbert Carver, in the sham Bgazilian Dom Gil Grabador, But what | when go. | ruefully. | other hot day like yesterday in this horrible | and we'll go. was the duke’s object then in saving Helen Lawton from the Arabs? If he wanted ven- nce, he surely could have had it there by Evin her alone to Fyzoul Abdallah’s mercy. Pondering over the mystery, he arrived at the Diamantina mansion, rung the bell, and was admitted by a smart Egyptian watchman in military uniform, who said, in reply to his surprised ook: “Dey all gone, Howadji. Me watchman till dey come back. What name, Howadji?”’ “Hart. Vm the duke’s secretary. What does all this mean?” asked the young man, be- wildered. ‘‘I left the house only three hours ago and all was quiet.” The watchman grinned, ‘** Di’mond great lord, Howadji. He go quick Letter for you, Howadji.” And he handed Clarence a note in the delicate see hand of the duke, which Hart hastily perused. It was in the curt form of an order to himself: “On receipt of this go to Alexandria, cail o5 Peee- doulos, Demetri & Co. They will give you f er orders and funds. Youare to come to Melapetros. * DIAMANTINA.” ** Melapetros,” repeated Hart to himself ina dreamy way; “I never heard of such a place.’”” But all the same, he took the train to Alex- andria that evening. CHAPTER XXV. FLITTING, THE Hon, Lorelia and her niece were yawn- ing in the hotel parlor at Shepherd’s after breakfast, which they bad been compelled to take alone, Sir Lumley not having mace his ap- pearance since he went to the Consulate the evening before. “Oh, dear me, Helen,” cried aunt Lorelia, ‘* How ever shall we get through an- pric What a change from that dear duke! me! ought to be ashamed of himself, Jeav- ing us like this all day. If we only had an es- cort I’d not mind, but there isn’t so much as a boy visible. What shall we do?” “Why not take a carriage and drive out to the pyramids, aunt? Wecan take one belong- ing to the hotel and be all safe.” “But it wouldn’t be eae the correct thing, Helen, to go alone. e might be robbed or murdered by some of those Arabs.” Helen smiled. **Oh, no, aunt. Mr. Hart told me there was nothing to fear in Egypt; the Arabs are in as good control as the Pg of London.” “*T wish we could find Captain O’Shea, or even Mr. Hart,” observed the elder lady, mus- ingly. ‘It’s a dreadful change to be left alone like this. I believe we'll ask the proprietor what's best to do.” She rung the bell in the sublime faith ofa British female in the integrity of hotel-keepers, and soon had that functionary before her, ques- tioning him about Sir Lumley and a dozen dif- ferent things. She noticed, or rather Helen did for her, that the landlord was very ready to answer, and that he eyed her with a certain protecting fa- miliarity that was foreign to his usual ways. ‘**He would advise the ladies not to worry about Sir Lumley, There were a number of formalities that foreign residents ’ad to pass | through, and no doubt Sir Lumley was busy at the Consulate ’aving ’em done. I'd advise the ladies not to go to the pyramids now. It’s tom ’ot for pleasure. Better take the ’otel cawass and a couple of donkeys and go to the They’re nice and shady. You won’t suffer from the eat there, ladies.” Lorelia, imagining the cawass to be some sort of a carriage, answered resignedly: “Very well, then. Get the cawass ready We'll be back for dinner.” As she spoke, she drew out that fatal watch, the innocent cause of so much trouble, and con- sulted it with her usual languidly affected in- difference. The landlord looked at it, bowing and rub- bing his hands: : “* Beg pardon, my lady, I’m sure, but that’s a monstrously pretty watch of yours. Can’t ’el noticing it, you know. Beg pardon, my lady. This tickled Lorelia mightily, and she opened it very slowly for consultation, so that the landlord might have a good look. F'attery was sweet to her, no matter from whose lips. Then the landlord backed out, and as soon as he was down-stairs observed to the room | clerk: “That ’ere paper’s right, Dobbs. the watch, sure asa gun. i sparkler in all my days.” Meantime aunt and niece attired themselves in their coolest Indian dresses and hats, and waited in patience for the waiter to tell them the cawass was ready. Presently a tap came at the door, and Lorelia cried: ‘‘ Come in.” A buge, piratical-looking man, with a black beard that covered his broad chest; with shoul- ders like Atlas and the muscles of a Hercules: stood at the door, dressed in ruby velvet and gold lace, with a yellow Milk ued round Sie never saw sich a She’s got. i te
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> in ANS = . z , . +e ee ij pe tee a arene Te a ee eee ee Seiten Frat , The Duke of Diamonds. waist that positively bristled with knives, pis- tols, yataghans and other murderous-looking implements. In his hand this formidable-look- ing person carried a great black whip two inches thick at the butt, and this whip he held up to his forehead in a sort of military salute. Lorelia shrieked and Helen started back in affright. The pirate at the door smiled in a manner un- expectedly gentle, and said in a deep bass voice: ** Donkeys ready, ladies.” Then aunt Lorelia in trembling tones ven- tured to falter out: ** Who—who are you?” “JT, my lady? I’m Nicolo, the hotel cawass. Every one in Cairo know me.” His accent was of the slightest, and the ladies began to perceive they had mistaken a peace- able f oepee and messenger for a pirate. “ And are you to take us to the bazar?” ask- ed Lorelia, more boldly. ** Wherever my lady chooses to go. Pyra- mids if she likes. But aunt Lorelia did not want to go to the pyramids. She preferred the bazars and felt perfectly safe now. This piratical cawass was as handsome as a picture in his fine imposin style and Lorelia secretly wished, as he lif her bodilyelike a baby to Pe her on her donkey, that she could have such a splendid fellow to show off in London, “What a sensation he’d make behind a car- riage in the a she whispered, as Nicolo stepped out beside their donkeys on the nif to the hesae, ever had Lorelia enjoyed herself so much as she did that day under the guidance of Nicolo in the bazars. That wonderful cawass knew every one and wor st A comge 3 in the bazar, super- intended her purchases that she might not be cheated (getting twenty-five per cent. commis- sion on profit from the various shopkeepers for his little services) and telling her everything she wanted to know. When at last they left those seducing Pre. cincts the Hon. virgin’s purse was much lighter than when it went in, and Helen was complete- ly satiated with color and Leas hg eae Nicolo the cawass had done that a service he did not quite understand, but which was none the less a valuable one to Sir Lumley Lawton. He had kept the ladies in the native part of the town and out of all hearing of the newsboys crying the Bord du Nil, and it was with perfect tranquillity that they went down to dinner that evening, where they found Sir Lumley already deep in his soup and apparently as tranquil as if he had but just parted from them.” ‘Well, Lumley, I must say you are a valu- able escort,” remarked his sister, in her iciest; tones. ‘‘Here you have left us all alone since yesterday morning. Do you suppose we can go out alone?” “Seems you have,” returned Sir Lumley, gruffiy. ‘‘ Nicolo can do the honors here bet- ter than I can. Have you seen enough of Cairo?” ‘“Why, papa, we’ve onl it!” cried Tare. animate ly. “Those bazars are just too awfully lovely for anything.” Poor Helen was not proof against the seduc- tions of slang. ‘‘Well,” replied her father, in a hard, con- strained sort of voice, ‘‘ to-day will have to sat- isfy you. We start for Alexandria by the six o'clock train to-morrow morning, and you’ll have todo your packing to-night, girls; that’s all ” just begun to see There was an immediate duet of protests and entreaties, but the baronet was firm asa rock. He knew so much of which they were blissfully ignorant that Cairo had become a place of tor- ture to him in which blow after blow came driving at his unprotected head. Owen’s severe wound, his utter incapacity to stem the current of newspaper clamor by stop- ing the Bord du Nil or cutting off the ears of rankly, as he had boasted he would do, put a different face on the whole business. The jour- nal sold through the streets as only spicy social scandals can sell and there was no one to stop the yelling of the newsboys, Colonel Hamilton was powerless, now. In the goodness of his heart he hacGawiolated the law for his friend’s sake, and had already received @ private hint, coming from the Khedive, that no notice would be taken of the matter unless there was any further trouble, in which case the Viceroy would be obliged to ty ee Bord du Nil, and at the same time to write to the Brit- ish Government requesting Hamilton’s dis- missal. Thus, as we have said, the Lawtons were “powerless, fatber and son, and had to sit still in a darkened room, while all Cairo wagged its tongues about them. : Poor Owen was reduced to the weakness of a child, he who had been so strong and domineer- ‘ing, and he lay on his back looking gloomily at ‘the wall and thinking, with vain regret, of the lost arm he would never see again. “ff it had gone in battle, I could have stood it; but to lose it in a duel, and just now when those other hounds are openin i find it pretty hard lines, I on you, sir; tell you.” : Sir Lumley had no consolation to offer, and | ness now; came out of his hole, revealing him- tried none, as Owen went on: self as a slender, bowed old man, in a red velvet *“‘ And that’s not the worst of it. There’s the | jacket, white silk petticoat, and red velvet leg- Snapper waiting at Suez, and I absent from her. They’ll court-martial me for this assoon as I get home, Curse that Diamantina! I wish I’d nev- er seen his face.” And Owen groaned impatiently. “‘T wish we none of us had, Owen,” assented his father. ‘‘But, how did he manage to do it, my dear boy?” ‘I don’t know, sir. I never saw such a fel- low in my life. He wouldu’t cross swords like aman and fight it out, but he had some infer- nal monkey-tricks of dodging a blow, and then coming inside your guard, flourishing his blade close to your face, [never sawin anyone. I could have cut him fifty times, for he never | garded; but I was afraid of taking a return low at the same time, and the swords were just like razors. Then at last I grabbed him, and in the same moment he cut off my left arm as if it had been a carrot.” Again Owen groaned impatiently, and turned to the wall. “Confound this stump. It feels as hot as fire. Won’t some one dress it for me, or am I to lie here and die all alone?” _Sir Lumley called for the nurse, an old soldier from the military hospital, who managed to make the patient more comfortable in a short ace of time, and then it was determined that they should all leave Alexandria as soon as the doctor said Owen could be moved, so as to get back to the Snapper before any trouble arose. The doctor pronounced that after the second | day the patient could go a short journey by rail, as the wound-fever would be over and sup- puration have set in toward recovery. ee peor t to the appointed hour, and before fashionable modern Cairo had quit- ted its bed, the Lawtons were steaming toward Alexandria at twenty miles an hour, the ca tain ina sans eh ear, attended by the old sol- dier-nurse, his father and female relatives in another car, the women even ignorant of his vicinity, much more of his danger. CHAPTER XXXVI. A GREEK COMMISSION HOUSE. Tue Greek house of Papadoulos, Demetri & Co., dealers in figs, Latakia tobacco, dates, olives, rice, cotton, rhinoceros horns, elephant tusks, hides, antelo horns, hippopotamus teeth, gold-dust, calicoes, hardware, teas and coffees, candies and molasses, was one of the most respectable firms in Alexandria. Clarence Hart, landing at the station, asked for this house, and was rattled away to the handsome quay by the Old Port, where, within sight of the floating dock, Ras-el-Teen light- house, and a forest of shipping, stretched the dingy yellow warehouses of ‘‘ Papadoulos, De- metri & Co.,” as several hundred feet of black paint informed you. Papadculos, Demetri & Co. seemed to be do- ing a flourishing business, from the tremendous row that was going on round about them. Their warehouses occupied a large and long block of buildings, and. hundreds of rters were staggering about, or wheeling trucks with boxes, barrels, and bales of all shapes and di- mensions, in and out of the black, cavernous archways of the lower story. Carts are not used to any great extent in Alexandria for the transport of merchandise and therefore there was an absence of the usual and deafening thunder and rattle that attendsa great commercial house; but the porters made up for it by all sorts of cries, as they staggered in and out of the building under loads that would have killed any horse, The hackman pulled up outside of this Babel of voices and hustling porters, and Clarence Hart got out and entered the huge warehouses. Titere was no one to direct him; not a single rter seemed to care whether he ran against im or not; and he had to wander about in the midst of piles of merchandise of all varieties of smell, from the pleasant fragrance of figs and raisins to the decidedly objectionable odors of raw hides, badly cured, till he spied, off in one corner of the warehouse, a little oe har ie shed with a window, which he naturally too for some sort of an office. Tapping at this window, it was opened by 4 | little weazen-faced, black-eyed old Greek in a / gings; a yellow sash round his waist completing an attire about as unlike sober, serious business as anything ever conceived of or read about. He opened a door in the dingy wall, led the way up a dark, winding and dusty staircase, into a second story of vast silent warerooms, full of merchandise, niled up to the open roof, fitty feet above them. hreading their way through a devious path among walls of bales, they came to another staircase, which climbed up to the open roof, and Clarence asked, in amazement: ‘*Ts the office up there?” The old Greek laughed. ‘* You-a—vill-a—see-a,” he answered, slowly, and with evident difficulty in giving his Greek thought English words. Then they went up the staircase as far as the tie-beams of the roof, when they came on a | light gallery which took them out to the side of | the house; and Clarence saw that they were en- tering a large square tower, which overlooked the whole port, and was itself a deliciously cool retreat on that hot day. Here at last he found the private office of the great firm, and intoa cool room, with a polished tile floor, a circular divan and a few stools and | low tables, he was introduced by the old Greek, velvet cap, who popped out his head and squeak- | ed out something in Romaic, of which Hart was blissfully ignorant. “I want to see Mr. Papadoulos or any one of the firm ”—began Clarence, in English, when the old Greek jabbered away faster than. ever, holding up a card and gesticulating omer Clarence produced one of his own cards which he had procured in Cairo, and the sight seemed to moll y the old Greek, for he smiled appro- val, stuck the card in a little box beside him in the wall, and Hart saw it go up the ordinary shoot used in most newspaper offices. In a few minutes came a whistle down a aking-tube, and the old Greek set his ear to the orifice an eagme d turned to Hart, saying in labored English: lease-a—come a,” sr i ncn a y He bowed and smiled with the utmost polite- ‘ tially at who said, indicating,a gentleman inside: ‘* Papadoulos.” Clarence entered, a little at a loss what lan- guage to use, but he was set at ease by Mr. apadoulos, who proved to be a fine gray- bearded old man iit the picturesque Greek dress, who came to meet him, saying: ‘*Mr. Hart, I have expect you to-day, sare. I s’all be glad to see you now. You’ave just arrive?” ‘Yes, sir, by direction of—” “Yes, yes, [know. M. le Duc de Diaman- tina. You are his secretaire, his good friend. Were you ever at Melapetros, Monsieur Hart?’ ‘*No, sir, never heard of the piace till now, I assure you.” Mr. Papadoulos laughed. “You s’all see a beautiful of Madame la Princesse. ou s’all have pas- sage on de barque Euphrosyne. She sail to- morrow. Do you know my partners, sare?” **'No, sir.” ‘‘Well, well, you shall. Mr, Demetri, he is now at Marseilles directing our agency there, but here comes our junior partner, Mr, Glyp- teros. He has been in America many years. Let me introduce you: Mr, Hart from Ameri- ca, Mr, Glypteros.’ Clarence bowed before a tall thin man in glossy black clothes, whose solemn, clean- shaven face looked dsif it had just moved out of a portrait of William M. Evarts, and would be in its best place behind the reading-desk of a country Methodist parish in Connecticut. “Very happy to make your acquaintance,” said Mr. Tiere in a regular Yankee tone of voice. ‘It does me good tosee a Borsting face once more.” lace, de residence CHAPTER XXVIL MR, GLYPTEROS, CLARENCE Hart looked with scme astonish.. ment at the long thin man who talked English with a down-East twang, and who was intro- duced to him as a Greek gentleman, Mr. Glyp- teros. . “Is it true that you have been in America, Mr. Glypteros?”’ he asked, with curiosity. ‘‘Waal, yes, I used to live there once,” drawled Mr. Glypteros;‘‘ and I hain’t forgotten how to talk yet, I guess.” ““T should think not,” remarked Hart, point- edly. ‘‘I should bave taken you for an Ameri- can anywhere. You could never disguise that accent.” Mr. Glypteros smiled, till his face looked like a parchment on which water had been spilt till it shriveled up in creases. “Don’t ye be too sure of that,” he observed. “T’ve seen the time when my own blood rela- tions couldn’t tell who I was, from my voice.” “Oh, I suppose you mean your Greek friends,” assented Hart. ‘‘That’s quite likely. I never should have taken you for a Greek, my- self, youknow. But you could never hide the Yankee accent if you spoke English.” ‘*Guess_ not,” remarked Glypteros, with a wink at Mr, Papadoulos. ‘‘ The Americans are a darned sight smarter than the Greeks; ain’t they, Papadoulos?”’ rence could not understand what the joke was between the two, but from some cause or other the old merchant began to laugh in a soft, polite way, and Mr. Glypteros sniggered audibly, while the head of the house extracted his snuff-box froro the red sash he wore and of- fered it to Hart, saying: : ‘Will you not take a pinch sare? I nse it for my eyesight. I am told it clears the sight won- derfully.” And then all three laughed ogain, Hart not understanding the joke, but taking it good-na if, as he began to surmise, it was par his own expense,
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Sateen! ga ee beep malate The Duke of Diam ree i re ee Then the American was struck by a sudden fhought, and asked: ‘Have you known the Duke of Diamantina | very long, gentlemen?” Mr. Papadoulos smiled and looked reflectively at his snuff-box. “Yes, sare. We’ave know de duke since he was born, I may say. His family have always been the patrons of our house.” “Tndeed?” asked Hart, eagerly. ‘Did his fa- ther have dealings with youalso# Did youknow the Rajah?” Mr. Papadoulos instantly changed his whole manner. From a polite, gentle old man he be- came a sort of statue of ice, saying, as he turned away, in the dryest of voices: *“T vill get you your orders from the duke, De asking of questions is not among them.” He sat down at his desk and began to sort among some papers, while Clarence turned crimson at his rebuff, stammering to Mr. Glyp- teros, who regarded him with equal coldness: “T beg your pardon, but thought that among friends—’ “I guess you’re a pretty young man,” re- marked Mr. Glypteros, quietly, ‘‘and a little advice won’t harm you, Mr. Hart. When you're eatin? a man’s bread ’tain’t the right thing to ask questions about his private af- fairs. Tiltell ye this much. The duke is the richest man in these parts and holds a control- ling share in this house. Any one that wants to git along with him had better attend to his business and —_ a stilltongue. Anything else you want to ask?’ “Tf you please, yes,” returned Clarence, com siderably crestfallen.. “tI have reason to be- lieve that Dom Gil Grabador, the duke’s stew- ard and agent, isnone other than an uncle of mine. You have been in America, sir, and robably know him. Do you know whether bis real name is Gilbert Carver or not?” Mr. Glypteros looked milder. “Do I know Dom Gil? Waal, yes, I ought to. Is his name Carver? Waal, Grabador’s Spanish for Carver, that’s certain.” ‘** And where is Dom Gil now?” asked Clarence, anxiously. Mr. Glypteros laughed again. “Dom Gil’s a mighty uncertain man to lo- cate. He might be anywhere from this room to Gibraltar by this time.” ** Then, sir, please tell me, did you ever know one Gilbert Carver in America?” **Gil Carver? Waal, rather. He was a good- for-nothing, shiftless lunatic when he left Bos- ton, he was.” ‘* And do you know what became of him, sir? You don’t know how anxious I am to find out. My poor mother has never ceased to pray for him ever since he Jeft home.” **Humph!” grunted Glypteros, and he turned away to look out tosea, ‘‘ She might be better pS ei te than praying for such a loafer as i Clarence colored high, and laid his hand on the other’s shoulder. ** Look here, Mr. rin! san he said, sharply ; “*yvou rebuked me justly for impertinent ques- tions just now, but please to remember that my mother’s brother is not to be called a loafer to my face. I expect an apology, sir.” mething or other seemed to tickle Mr. Glypteros mightily, for he laughed in a pecu- liar silent manner as he answered: ** Geerewsalem! out if I didn’t?” “*T certainly should, sir,” cried Hart, impa- tiently. ‘‘ I don’t wish to make a disturbance before Mr. Papadoulos, but Ill not bear my r uncle called a loafer by any man. It’s a alsehood, sir.” Mr. Papadoulos, who had been busy at the table over his papers, here put in a word. “Gentlee, gentlee, sare. Monsieur Glypteros and 1 are old men and must have our say.” ‘* Qld or young, no man shall call my uncle a loafer before me,” retorted Clarence, firmly. “This gentleman shall apologize or else—” Papadoulos rose Do you mean you'd call me ‘“Gentlee,sare. Pardon. Whatis de trouble? Monsieur Glypteros ’ave insult you? Impos- sible!” ‘* He called my uncle a loafer.” ** A loafair?—vat is dat?’ “Tt means an ‘idle, good-for-nothing vaga- bond.” “Loafair? Dat is Americano, I suppose. Monsieur Glypteros, I um surprise you should insult dis gentleman, friend of the Duke of Dia- mantina. Dis gentleman, you call him loafair?” ‘No, no,” said Clarence, beginning to feel a little ashamed of his heroics. ‘‘ Not me; it was amy uncle.” ‘Your uncle, sare? Vat uncle?” “One whom I suspect to be the same with Dom Gil Gabrador,” retorted the American, impatient at the questions. ‘‘Gilbert Carver. He said he was : cog and by heavens he shal) apologize or fight for it. Here Mr Giy ptaros, who had been silent «while Papadoulos took up the parable, broke in with his usual drawl: ; “ Waal, in that case, it’s so much easier to lie than to fight that I take it all back, cunnel. Gil i NS Carver’s a real gentleman. Is that enough? Shake hands on it.” i Hart could notrefuse, and held out his hand a | little reluctantly, when Mr. Glypteros seized it | and gave it a pressure under which the bones cracked, while Clarence felt the most acute paio, which he could not show for very shame | after his late threats. Mr. Glypteros continued to shake his hand with the gripe of a giant, repeating: ‘*Gil Carver’s a gentleman, by Hokey, and he’s got a gentleman for a nephew. Stick a pin in that, And you was goin’ to fight me about Gil! Waal, waal, if that warn’t real spunky. Why, sonny, you wouldn’t be only a babby in my hands, but all the same, I glory in your spunk. Ido, by Jiminy!” When he dropped Hart’s hand at last the oung man felt that Mr. Glypteros had not boasted idly. He felt for a moment as helpless as if he had been really a baby, his hand ut- terly unable to perform its office till he had smoothed it out and allowed it to rest. Mr. Papadoulos, affecting to notice nothing of his embarrassment, now called him to the table and began to read him a list of instruc- tions from the papers before him. “You are to sail to Cyprus in the barque Euphrosyne, which sails to-morrow. She car- ries a cargo to Larnaca. There you will meet the duke’s yacht in all likelihood. If she be not there you will cross the island and take ship at the port of Nikosia, where you will find the duke’s tender, E] Djemel, which will carry you to Melapetros. You are to try while on the way to learn as much of the Romaic as you can, for the duke wishes his secretary to be ac- complished. Dat is all, sare, except de funds, I am direck to pay you one thousand Liras Turk on account for salary and expense, Here is de sum in de queeneé Ingles.” And old Papadoulos handed bim a little roll of gold-pieces which represented to Clarence a whole year’s salary on the scale of U. 8. navy 2 Now monsieur,” continued the old mer- chant, «] and invite you to come to dinner at my house this evening. You vill lodge of course at de Mehemet Ali Hotel. I vill send my carriage for you. Au-revoir.” And he bowed Clarence out of the ofice, Mr. Gly pteros giving him a cool nod as he went. CHAPTER XXVIII INVALIDS. THAT afternoon was spent by the American | in strolling about Alexandria, seeing whatever was to be seen and much interested in the mot- ley crowd which hurries toand fro in this city oft the border land between East and West. He had arrived, himself, by the night train from Cairo, and had been wandering aimlessly about the city ti]l near noon, when the distant | shriek of the locomotive warned him that another train was coming in at the station, and he determined to go and see the passengers get | out, with the longing to find a familiar face which comes over one in a strange city. When he reached the station the great herd of passengers had mostly dispersed, and only a | few of the later birds were still coming slowly out. Among these he noticed a group who seemed to be supporting an invalid, a tall man, who walked very slowly along, resting bis only arm round the neck of a stout fellow in the Egyp- tian uniform, while the other sleeve of bis coat was looped up empty on his breast. All of Hart’s professional sympathy was aroused at the sight, for he judged that the arm had been but recently amputated from the pale- ness of the sufferer. He made his way toward the injured man and soon recognized Helen Lawton’s brother, his face unshorn and haggard, al] his old haughty strut gone, a general air of gloom and langzuor possessing him. While he hesitated whether to offer his ser- vices or not (for Owen Jooked as if he needed some help) he saw Sir Lumley come hurrying back through the crowd, and heard him say: “‘There, Owen, I’ve put the girls in the car- | riage for the hotel. Now I'll help you.” “Tm afraid I’m going to faint, sir,” here re- marked Owen, ina very low voice, and Hart hesitated no more. He had an old physician’s habit of carrying restoratives with him, and he hastily ran to Owen, saying in a tone of authority: They’ve not seen you yet. “Let me come to hirh, Sir Lumley. I’m a | doctor.” The poor father turned round with tears in his eyes, and without recognizing him, for he had only seen him once in a dark room, ‘*Thank you, sir, thank you. be moved, but we had to come.” Then Hart bastily poured out a little brandy which he made the wounded man drink and help- ed him into a carriage which took them to the | hotel. All the time they were riding Owen Lawton lay back witb his eyes Slosod, and Clarence ; nds, ’ave only to wish you a good <oyage | He’s not fit to | 19 ! | saw that he had not recognized him. The dif- ference of dress (for he had worn the yacht’s uniform when last they met and now he was all in regular Frankish white) served as a disguise; | and even when he gave his name neither gentle- | man seemed to associate it with the Duke of Diamantina, for the baronet began to tell him the story of the duel with much bitterness against the Brazilian. Owen was too weak to say much, but once he put ap his hand and whispered: “Hush, sir; it was all fair. We must keep the secret.” Hart could not help a certain feeling of ad- miration for this young man who bore his mis- fortune so bravely, and when they reached the hotel he insisted on seeing to his comfort, dress- ' ing the arm himself, and finding that the care- less soldier-nurse had caused his patient much | discomfort by an open place into which the | dust had got. | Assoon as the r captain was made com- fortable Clarence left the room and hastened to | his own to dress for Mr. Papadoulos’s dinner ac- | cording to engagement, and as soon as he had | donned his regulation suit of torture (in that climate) went out on the broad piazza of the hotel to watch the bay and enjoy the sea "Ba toand good le there like bi e found a man e there like him- | self, and almost the fret ba woaraeied om were Sir Lumley Lawton, the Hon. Lor. and Helen enjoying the same cool view. “ Why . Hart, where have you been, and how is that dear, dear duke, and our darling princess?’ asked the Hon. Lorelia, with her usual kittenish impulsiveness. Helen gave a nervous start as she saw him | and turned scarlet for an instant, then as pale as death, while she looked steadily out into the bay, biting the top of her fan in a manner in- dicating some embarrassment. As for Sir Lumley he was so much surprised | that he ejaculated: ‘Why, bless me, Lorelia, do you know the | doctor?” ‘The doctor? Well, yes, I believe he is a | doctor, but to me he’s always Mr. Hart, who | saved Helen and me from the clutches of the angry ocean when the Benares went down.” ; “What, what?’ | Sir Lumley began to stammer, while Hart re- | plied in his calmest tones: | ‘*The ladies think too much of a trifle, Sir | Lumley. My Boyton suit saved us alhfrom | drowning, but it was no use against the Arabs. For that we must all thank the Duke of Dia- mantina and his guns.” ‘* And how is that dear duke?” again asked Lorelia, while Sir Lumley sat drumming on the arm of his chair and Helen looked out to sea as steadily as before. “J could not say, madam. The duke left Cairo yesterday and I may not see him for months,” “What! have you left him?’ suddenly asked Helen’s voice, in a way that showed she was not by any means an indifferent listener. ““No, Miss Lawton, I sail to join him at Mela- petros to-morrow.” ‘* And where’s Melapetros?” asked she, in the same abrupt way. ‘To tell the truth, I don’t know,” the Ameri- can answered, with a smile. ‘“‘I am in the hands of others who will take me there. I sup- pose it’s somewhere in Greece.” ‘*Ah, then we shall see him again,” cried Lorelia, delightedly. ‘‘ We’re going home by way of Athens you know and surely the duke will be at Athens.” ‘* Well, Miss Lawton, I see a carriage comin, for me, and asI have an engagement to dine will say au revoir.” And Clarence backed out into the and was going down-stairs, when he assage eit Sir Lumley’s band, and lo! the baronet had follow- _ ed him quietly, and now whispered: “‘Y’ve told my daughter, but my sister must ' not know of Owen’s wound. Will you keep the | secret?” “Certainly, Sir Lumley.” ‘* You are connected with the Duke of Dia- mantina, sir?” . “T am his secretary, sir.” ** You know who he fs, sir?” “T know that he is a gentleman of noble character, Sir Lumley.” The baronet scowled at him. “*Curse his noble character! He has maimed | my son for life, and I’) get even with him for it. Tell bim that when you see him.” Clarence stared at his companion in haughty surprise. “Tl give him the warning, if not the mes- sage, Sir Lumley. Gocd-day.” The baronet looked down the stairs after him and ground his teeth, ‘‘Curse him!’ he muttered. ‘‘They all like him and are all against me. How shall I kill | him?” He remained brooding over the means of clearing Diamantina from his path till it wa time to go back to the piazza, where he i | ed his sister by bis gloom st ™uch that she pre _ nounced him a “grumpy old bear.” He could not see his way clear.
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Ca ina ‘ CHAPTER XXIX. | FATAL CURIOSITY. A TELEGRAM had been dispatched from Alex- andria ordering the Snapper to come there and receive her captain as soon as she got through the canal, and Owen Lawton began to feel easier in his mind, now that the prospect of pro- fessional disgrace was averted. It was agreed that inasmuch as it would be im ble to keep the matter forever from Lo- relia, she was to be told a story about a burst- ing gun and the amputation of her nephew’s arm; for somehow Sir Lumley still shrunk from letting any one know the true secret of the Duke of Diamantina’s enmity toward his family. He was doomed to keep a smiling face toward that person before the world, knowing in his heart that his secret was no secret to at least two people besides Diamantina and the princess; namely, O’Shea and the American, He had not seen O’Shea after their short meeting in Cairo, but the very next day after Sir Lumley’s arrival in Alexandria, he came across the jolly Captain of Control, parading the docks in a bustling and absorbed fash- ion. He could not avoid noticing him, for it was his torture to be compelled to give outward civili:y to those he knew to be his secret foes. Something impelled him now to go up to O’Shea in the midst of the street, and hold out his hand, saying: O'Shea, have you forgotten that we are at least count: en?” The honest Irishman looked a little confused, for the question hit him in a weak place. ‘*T hope not, Sir Lumley,’ he answered, try- ing to be stiff. “And yet you're joining my enemies to blacken my character,” said the baronet, bit- terly. _‘‘ You were a sergeant when I first saw ou, in a corps where no man ever yet rose rom the ranks; and I got you a commission and helped you along. You’ve no cause to turn against me, O’Shea, at least.” , he captain was so much taken aback that he could not answer a word, and Sir Lumley con- tinued: “Are you hunting up something else to put in the papers about me?” “No, by the powers, no, Sir Lumley. I’m only looking for a vessel to go to Cyprus in. I’ve orders from the department to go there and make a report on the best station for troops.” Sir Lumley was unaffectedly surprised. “For troops! What troops? We don’t own Cyprus.” “Sure, don’t ye know Lord Beaconsfield’s made a treaty with the Porte, and that seven thousand ereces are coming from India to Malta?’ asked O’Shea. Then Sir Lumley remembered how he had heard of this curious stroke of the Israelite pre- mier’s policy. ‘Yes, but what of Cyprus?” he asked, ** As soon as they get through in Malta, and the Roosians come near to Constantinople, our blacks go to Cyprus. Mum’s the word, Sir Lumley. I’m waiting for a Yankee skipper to take methere, now. Ah, here he comes, bedad.” Sir Lumley saw approaching them a tall, thin yellow personage, in a shambling nautical suit of blue serge, and asked: ‘Who is this Yankee, and where is he going?” “His name’s Carver, and he commands a ship voing on a roving trip in the Atgean, ending at thens.” ‘Then, by Jove, he’s my man,” said Sir Lum- ley to himself, as he watched the tall Yankee chaffering with O’Shea, and wondered to him- self where he had seen his face. The captain’s business was soon settled, and he turned to Sir Lumley. “Tt’s all right, Sir Lumley. We sail to-night. _Bedad, I wis Miss Helen was goin’along. It'll be a pleasant trip for her, if she does.” “Perhaps we may,” assented the baronet. ‘* Have ra any more room in your cabin, Mr.—ah—lI haven’t the pleasure.” ‘Carver, sir, Capting Carver air my handle,” answered the sailor, with a strong nasal accent. **Room in the cabin? How many air there?” ‘¢Three of us—two ladies,” * “Then I’m jest the critter kin do it, cunnel,” was the eager reply. ‘Do you want to go to Athens, quietly ? “ Yes 7 Sir Lumley gave a slight shudder. He wanted to lose himself for a little while, till that horri- ble newspaper story died out. He couldn’t bear to think of going on a P. & O. steamer, now, where every one knew him, and would be pest- ering him with all sorts of questions. —_ Carver clapped on the shoulder amiliar way. ; “Say no more; the cabin air yourn, if you like to pay the price, a hundred dollars a head. We'll be some time on the v’y’ge, cunnel, but ye don’t keer for that, I s’pose?”’ . , 10, ** And ye'll be as quiet as the ve, all the ? Kin ye talk Greek, cunnel?” “T used to read it at school,” answered the shortly. i gd ee at 2 go i 7 ee The ) J yew dtl ea ‘“Waal, ye’ll heva chance to brush it up along of these sailors, who speaks it naterally. What name might I call you by, cunnel?” “Lumley,” answered the baronet, his face flushing; ‘‘ Colonel Lumley.” “Waal, Colonel Lumley, you jest step into the bank with me, and pay your passage money, and I’ll send up the boys for your traps, to onst. Where do ge hang out?” Sir Lumley told him, and went with him to the bank, where he paid out, with great satis- faction, his. passage err ¢- after which he de- arted with O’Shea to the hotel, where he found ieutenant Sloman, who had come, full of sym- pathy for his unlucky commander, with a party of sailors to take him back to the Snapper, which was already in the offing, waiting. The parting between father and son and the rest of the family was painful and affect- ing. Even aunt Lorelia forgot her selfishness so far as to pity and condole with r Owen, as the sailors took him off on a litter to the port; and Helen wept. bitterly, perhaps the more so because Clarence Hart, who had been so kind to her brother the day before, had entirely dis- appeared, no one knew whither. e had kept the duke’s counsel so well that they did not even know in whose hands he had put himself, save that he was going to some place called Melapetros. After Owen’s departure, Helen was quite willing to k up and depart herself; and neither of the ladies had any objection to Sir Lumley’s plan of a quiet sail among the Greeks of the Augean. There was something mysteri- ous in the air, Helen could not tell what, that gave her a vague feeling of uneasiness while they stayed in Egypt. She was quict aud observant, and had noticed that the people at the table dhote stared at them every time her eyes were away, and then looked guilty and ashamed of themselves when detected. She had noticed that her father kept a strict watch over all the newspapers, ahd that she had not seen one since.she had been in Cairo. Like a true woman, she was not to be mysti- fied for long in vain; and, waiting till she found her chance, she rung the bell of the hotel par- lor when her aunt and father were both away, and feed the waiter handsomely to bring her the Cairo papers for the last three days. The boy, a smart Maltese, not caring to diso- blige a lady who paid so handsomely, brought her a small pile of Alexandria and Cairene pa- pers, on the top of which, in conspicuous capi- tals, she saw the Bord du Nil extra, with the account of the duel, a light and frivolous jest, as she thought it, on the maiming and almost death of her onl y brother. Pale with indignation, she read it through, and then turned to the French art, where she came on that leader which had driven Sir Lum- ley out of Cairo, As she slowly read it, half- aloud, her face grew paler and paler, and then she rose up and threw down the paper on the floor, trampling on it and muttering with white ips: Me Oh, the cowards! To stab a gentleman in his sorrow like that!” But there was something fascinating in that horrible journal after all, She took it up again and found it referred to a former article; and lo! there was the Times clipping in the very next number, which told her the true nature of the accusation against her father. With a choking sob the — girl clutched the two papers up and hurried away to the silence of her own apartment, where she wept bitter tears of shame and anger at her sudden degra- dation, Now she understood the gloom of her father since they were at Shepherd’s; his sudden flight from Cairo, and their present trip to sea. ‘Oh, Father of Mercy!” sob Helen, ‘‘ can it be true? My father a—” She could not say what she meant. The crime of which he was accused was one not known to the law, that does injustice be- tween Frank and Hindoo; but it was one so mean and base, so pie abate, Uy all pretensions of gentlemanly character, that she groaned in very bitterness of anguish as she thought of it. A traitor who betrayed a noble prince to death; a thief who robbed a corpse; a hypocrite who had allowed his own sister to become the byword of all Cairo for wearing the watch he had stolen and lied about! “Oh, it can’t! itcan’t! It shall not be true!” aires tr poor Helen to herself; and then she eard the quick imperative knock of her father at her door. ‘Nelly, my child, quick, are you ready? The porters are here for the baggage.” She opened the door and came out with the papers in her hands. “Ts that true?” was all she said, her blue eyes gleaming out of a wan white face at him, Sir Lumley stagge kk. “My God!” he cried. ‘How did you get those papers?’ voice: ‘‘Itis, us all!” ee uke of Diamonds. CHAPTER XXX. AMONG THE SPONGE-FISHERS. THERE is no part of the world perhaps where the combination of natural beauty and roman- tic association is so striking as in a cruise among the islands of the Greek Archipelago. When the voyage is taken in a vessel manned_by Greek sailors, the perfection of lazy enjoyment is reached, for the modern Greeks are as full of wild legends as their fathers of old, and flit from coast to coast in the same childlike fashion, with pa faith in the existence of iants and cannibals on every shore that is un- own to them. The Lawton family, after their late experi- ence in Egypt, found the repose on board the. good ship Aphrodite very pleasant, To Helen especially, whose pride had been sore] ‘lacovstan. it was a blessed relief. Aunt Lorelia found it a bore; but aunt Lorelia did not know all, as her niece did. To Sir Lumley it seemed as if he had escaped from the bad consequences of his former life, and he was content to loiter on, every day tak- ing him further away from the humiliating memories of public scorn at Cairo, Here on the seas th y were unknown, save as the ‘‘ Lumley family ;” and the Yankee skipper, with his Greek crew, treated them with 4 told mocgee asking no qucstions; while Captain O’Shea was unusually c: urteous, even for him. Thus they loitered about the coast of Cyprus, moving from port to poit on all sorts of er- ranas, the skipper seeming to have made a sort of general express agency cf his ship, delivering his cargo in small | er till at last they squared away from Cyprus for Crete, and ran down into the midst of a sponge-fishery, Here, Helen expressing a wish to see the pro- ceedings of the. divers, the skipper told shout they could take the ship’s shore-boat with a pair of oars when they liked, Captain O’Shea pro- posing that he and Sir Lumley should row, so as to get rid of the Greek sailors, who could not understand a word of English, the little party of four left the Aphrodite, which at once squared her main-yard and stood off from the t coast, At first they hardly noticed this, thinking she would come back in a short time; but as the distance between them grew greater and great- er, and no symptoms of return became Visible, aunt Lorelia began to be frightened. ‘““My good gracious,) Lumley!” she cried, ‘those pirates—l’m sure they must be pirates— are leaving us. Weshall all be murdered.” **Oh, nonsense, Lora,” answered Sir Lumley, though -himself a littie uneasy; ‘‘ they ce want to give us a chance to enjoy ourselves among the sponge-fishers. Look at that fellow just going to dive. Isn’t he a model for a sculp- tor? Come, O'Shea, pull on,” And into the midst of the sponge-divers they rowed, where they were received with a shower of polite greetings in Greek, of which they only understood ‘‘ Kaliméra” (‘“Good-day ”). They were so much interested in watching the divers that they forgot all about the ship till they heard the creaking of blocks and spars near by and, looking up, saw a large, brown- sailed felucca gliding in among the sponge-tish- ers, and heading straight for their own craft. ey pr die she had come to collect loads from the other boats they paid no attention to her beyond noticing the picturesqueness of her ar ere till they were surprised and alarm- ed to find her bumping up against them as if she meant to run them down. The next moment, a big, black-mustached fellow, with a red jacket, blue leggings, white kilt, sash full of ee, and a general des- perado look about him, caught up the painter of their boat with a boat-book, coolly pulled the rope on board and hauled it-taut ere they could recover from their first surprise. ‘What the devil are you doing there?” shout- ed Sir Lumley, as svon as he could recover his senses, ‘‘ Let go that painter, you Greek ruf- fian, you!” The only reply of the Greek was: “* Kaliméra, keerie,” (Good-day, sir,) deliver- edin a mocking-kind of manner, as he secured the end of the painter to a belaying-pin; and then the felucca glided away through the midst of the sponge-fishers, who laughed and jabbered Greek to each other, as if the whole thing were a good joke, as the foreigners were towed away, ir Lumley’s first anger had given way to a sensation of uneasiness; Lorelia was screaming, Helen pale with fear; while Captain O’Shea was. fumbling in vain in the pockets of his coat, lyin onthe seat, for a istol, which he remembe too late he had left behind bim. And in the meantime the felucca swept on, towing the boat through the wate#, bumpin ainst her, an unresisting captive, till they ha = eared the sponge-divers and were standing out sea, ‘‘What do you suppose they want, O'Shea?” asked Sir Lumley, now thoroughly alarmed. ‘‘Divil a one o’ me knows,” was the flustered reply; for O’Shea an to feel decidedly un- comfortable. ‘‘Maybe we’ve poached on some of their sponge preserves,” “ But where’s the A te?’ asked the baro-. net, peering round him and seeing nothing im
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Sa. I begin to be afraid that we're in * Didn't I tell you so, Lumley?” cried Lorelia, sob- bing. “I warned you not to trust yourself among these people; and here you are, with nothing to make us more wretched except having our throats cut.”’ All this time, since the first pirate had looked over- board, they had seen nothing of the felucca’s crew. She must have had a steersman and hands, but the | tall bulwarks hid them from view. Presently, finding themselves left entirely alone in the boat, the courage of all n to revive; and O’Shea proposed in a whisper that he should cut the inter, and that they should try to pullaway. Sir umley assented, and made ready the oars to put | out, while O’Shea opened his pocket-knife. But no sooner did the blade come near the rope, than in a trice a dozen heads were thrust over the bulwa while a torrent of Greek imprecations convin them that they were watched. O’Shea pretended .not to understand, and contin- ued sawing away at the rope, when, ‘‘ flash / bang!” | went a a and a bullet whizzed close to his head ‘and splashed into the sea beside him, causing him to drop his work in a hurry. That sort of Greek | makes itself quickly understood. But the attempt seemed to have satisfied their | captors that some new plan was necessary, for — crowded to the side of the felucca and began to them by words and sigus to come on board. Again their Greek made itself comprehended in ‘short order, for when Sir Lumley shook his head and called out, ‘No! No!’ one of the mustached and kilted mariners deliberately pulled out a huge Turkish pistol, with a bore about an inch in diameter, and blazed away into the bottom of the boat, close to Sir Lumley’s feet, starting such a leak that the ‘beat began to fill in a hurry. After that little lesson in modern Greek there was no more hesitation, aunt Lorelia being one of the first to scramble up the side of the felucca, so that they were soon on board a large, dirty Mediterranean wsponge-vessel, as it seemed to be, with greasy and sandy decks, a nang 3 smell of stale fish and oil, while the most ferocious lot of cutthroats in the shape of @ crew crowded curiously round them, Every man was armed to the teeth, with knives and is stuck in silk sashes; and they all looked as if they would use them in a moment, as indeed they would. They were as handsome a lot of villains, too, as ever were seen, tall and slender. with pure classical profiles and long black curls and mustaches. Aunt Lorelia, with all her terror couldn't help thinking of Byron’s Conrad and other picturesque | edora, (of scamps, and fancying herself a new uncertain age.) Once on board, however, they were treated with perfect courtesy. The sailors saluted them with: * Kaliméra, keerie,’” to the men, was the common salutation. Then they were motioned to the stern of the felucea, where they were provided with seats on a bench; and the vessel me gore away her broad sails to the south wind, and left the shores of Crete behind, stretching away toward the distant coast of | Greece itself, barely visible on the northern horizon after the shores of Crete had sunk beneath the "waves, Where were they going and what were these sponge-fishers doing in the ré/e of pirates? None of ‘them could tell; but an uneasy sense of somethin impending took possession of all as night fell, -and still the felucca held on her course. CHAPTER XXXI. MR. SOCRATES. Tue native home of the brigand, pure and simple, has been found in Greece for a good many years. The Bandits of the Abruzzi in Italy, and the road- nts of Australia and early California, are much | like them in general characteristics; but they have not yet attained the perfect system of terrorisin which marks the Greek brigand in his native mountains. *, All the efforts of the Greek government hy are unable to stamp out this cage iar feature of Greek society, and it will probably never be done till the gf d is as thickly populated as England. The brigands live in the mountains, because Greek mouvtains are nearly inaccessible to anything but goats and Greek robbers. They keep near the Turkish frontier, so that, if ‘the Greek troops chase them, they can quickly es- cape into neutral territo If the Turks take of- fense at their pranks on back in Greece and have become ardent patriots in a very few hours, All the villagers know them; fear them, hide them; lie for them; pay blackmail to them; and share their plun‘ier whenever the bandits come into houses for a week's debauch after a good haul. Such are the Greek brigands to-day. Fifty years | ‘o they varied their little amusements on land by hin expeditions at sea, till screw steamers and meri # ey rendered that sort of thing too danger- ous, eir present Seen oe are therefore confined 1 to the persons of brother Greeks of other provinces, r devils of Syrian fruit merchants and such like. hey avoid foreigners, whose governments have steamships, carrying big guns, Up in the wildest fastnesess of the Morean moun- tains lived for a good many ‘gen a very picturesque and remarkably wicked olc # parr. of the name of Keerie Sokrahtié, or as we shouid call him Mr. So- crates. Mr, Socrates, in the spring of 1877, rejoicedin a very venerable white beard, which gave him the ap- pearance of his distinguished namesake of old, but which did not prevent him from being the most dar- | be ing, the richest and the most successful brigand of Greece since the days of Hadji Stavros, made famous by Edmund About. . Keerie Sokrahti6 was dressed in the usual gor- us style of Greek brigands, most of his fortune ing on his person or those of his sons and daugh- ters, in the shape of gold and jewels. Among other evidences of wealth, he possessed about a dozen American revolvers, of the old pattern, very rare in | Greece except among the regular troops, and he knew how to use them. Keerie Sokrahti¢, or Mr. Socrates, (as we will call “ Kaliméra | guinie,” to the ladies; which, as they already knew, | lunder and | oslem soil then they are | The Duke of Diamonds. 21 | him for the sake of our readers,) was looking out over the beautiful panorama below; the bay of Egina; Athens; the Pireeus; the thousand islands of the blue ean sea; the olive-clad hills of aaa, and the white ruins of old temples; when he h = cry of an owl iw broad daylight, and smiled, well pleased. It was the signal that there were travelers comin that way, and that the sentries of the band h ied them. he thrifty old_ gentleman instantly dropped be- ; hind a rock on which he had been leaning, took off his gold-embroidered cap, stuck his head into the midst of a tuft of heather among the rocks, and peered out into the pass below. He and his band had away of taking toll of all ~ oe passing on the mountain road from Athens to urkey, through the renowned defile of Thermopylz, Presently he saw the leaders of a large party of | men coming up the rugged road. At the head was a dark, handsome gentleman, on a mare of wonderful beauty, closely followed by a lady ina dark blue habit, equally well mounted, and Mr. Socrates | grinned with delight, as he said to himself: “These are English chickens; they will bear a good deal of plucking.” ; After the lady and gentleman came a long string pea each guarded by a couple of men oot, all of whom wore a Greek uniform of some of | on Te) rt. Old Socrates counted forty men, and began to doubt whether he could dispose of them so easily as he had at first thought, when his attention was at- tracted by a noise above his head. Turning quickly, for brigands are always nervous about above them, he beheld the bright bar- rel of a carbine leveled at him, the noise being caused by the cocking of the piece. To see a and to fight back, were with Mr. Soc- rates but one idea, and out came one of his famous revolvers in a minute, when he was arrested by a voice shouting down to him: “The hill’s full of them. Don’t fire!’’ He nized the voice of his own lieutenant; and a moment later out came his band, twenty-three in number, all told, looking chop-fallen. They seemed to have been for once completely entrap- a Socrates saw gun-barrels on the top of every rock above him, saw the travelers in front of him calmly —— and finally concluded that the best thing he could do was to come boldly out and claim | to be a peaceable peasant. Therefore Mr. Socrates put up his pistol; pulled out his sash as broad as he could get it, to cover his arsenal; then walked out as meekly as any nice a“ gentleman taking a stroll, and remarked, affa- Y5 ** Kaliméra, keerie ; Kaliméra, guinie’’ (Good-day, sir; good-day, ma’am). The lady and gentleman in front smiled at him, and the gentleman said, in very gocd Romaic: “G ee ¢ Mr. Socrates. I am very happy to meet you, a last. I wish you to do a little favor, for which I will pay you liberally.” Mr. Socrates bowed to the ground. “Tam the lowest slave.of your distinguished | excellency. Itook you for a ca of the army, | come to take me into Athens.”’ The gentleman smiled again. **Oh, no. I have too much sympathy with every- | thing free to wish to put even a tiger in a cage. These are only my servants. Please to show me | | ; | where you live.” Mr. rates hesitated. The stranger divined the cause and went on in the same gentle —_ “You do not know who I am. I will tell you. Have you ever heard of the Duke of Diamantina?” Mr. tes pulled his beard in a meditative way. “No, keerie, if your excellency is pleased to par- | don me.” “The Turks call me the Lord of all Jewels. I see that you have a very handsome yataghan there. Let me exchange this for it.’’ And he drew from under his coat a small revolver, | barrel and cylinder heavily gilt, while the butt posi- tively blazed with diamonds, set in rough silver. Keerie Sokrahtié uttered a cry of rapture and ex- changed weapons in a twinkling. He was an old | person of uncommon judgment, | “Your excellency is worth y to be the King of Greece,”’ he protested, ‘and has only to give his orders for me to obey them.”’ “Then show me where you live,” smiled Diaman- | tina, and the venerable professor of pillage obeyed. He had not very far to go. ; The roads in that vicinity were so little frequented that Mr. Socrates and his friends had no need to hide their ordinary habitations. ; He conducted the duke up a narrow bridle-path to a little plateau on the top of a hill, which command- | ed an extensive view of the country round, where was set up a rude lean-to of poles, thatched with straw, before which the embers of a fire showed the kitchen of the band, such asit was. The Duke of Diamantina looked round him, and | observed, quietly: “This is not your stronghold. Where is that?’ “Far from here,” answered Mr. Socrates, eva- sively. ‘We have more than one,” do for awhile. I wish to hold a little private talk with you. Order all your band back out of hear- ing.” Keerie Sokrahti4 obeyed, much mystified, and the attendants all retired to a distance, from whence they observed the duke and the lady talking earnest- ly with the old robber-chief for nearly half an hour. At the end of that time Mr. Socrates was heard to say aloud: Pid el excellency shall be satisfied. On my head t.” CHAPTER XXXII. IN A SPERONARE. CLARENCE Hart was doomed to experience a good many mystifications before he again saw either the | duke or Dom Gil. The Euphrosyne, on which he embarked for Cyprus, was one of Mr. Papadoulos’s vessels, and she proved to be a slow sailer, without a single man on board who understood anything but | Greek, and Hart found he had plenty of time to learn the new language. | Whenever the wind was favorable, the Eu- | ‘* Well,” replied the duke, ‘in that case this must | | phrosyne sailed toward Larnaca, but whenever it shifted she did not attempt to bold her course, but let it carry her away where it would. Thus it was three weeks from the time he left Alexandria before he reached Cyprus, which is onl three days’ easy sailing, and as he had expected, found that the duke’s yacht had gone. Fo wing out his instructions, he landed and crossed the islan to Nikosia, on the northern shore, where he expect- ed to find “Al Djemmel” (The Camel) the duke’s provision ship. .But no ship was there; nothing but a few feluccas and brigantines loading with copper for Stamboul, and one Jittle Greek craft with a Pie. deck and — mast, whose akipper, hearing of his dilemma, told him the Djemmel had sailed for Ath- ens, and offered to take him there. ., Beginning to feel angry as well as puzzled at the way in which he was being treated, he acce the offer, determined, in case he did not find eccen- tric employer at Athens, to throw up the jcb and write home to his mother, telling her how he had found and lost the long sought Gilbert Carver. The Greek speronare (for such is the name of that sort of craft) proved a much faster sailer than the Euphrosyne and soon took him past Smyrna, Aleppo and all the other towns on the coast of Asia Minor, touching at Crete and passing Negropont, till one fine day the skipper pointed out a dim line of purple aa toward the sunset and said to Hart with a smile: ** Na to Athenie, keerie*’ (There is Ath sir). And Clarence looked out with a strange of his heart, as he ized for the first time a clus- ter of white dots on the face of the hills which he knew to be the far-famed capital of old Greece. This was Athens, and he had seen it at last from the deck of such a little Greek boat as once might have carried St. Paul and his fortunes. Then he scanned the sea all round, and noticed that there was guite a crowd of sails in sight, all sing toward the north, and realized that he was n one of the great avenues of Eastern trade. There were my ee English mer- chantmen going to Stamboul, French luggers and chussemarées, Spanish, Italian and Greek feluccas and speronares, all under a cloud of sail, all beauti- ful and picturesque. ego 7 3 their bows and standing toward the coast of the Morea, was a large felucca with three masts, brown sails and a general dirty appearance. art asked the Greek captain what was this felucca, for he was beginning to understand Romaic pretty well by this time, and received for answer: “Only a sponge-fisher, keerie. They're always dirty and most of them are full.of thieves.” Hart took little more notice of the dirty om vessel which they were rapidly overhauling, for she was a slow sailer, till just as they were passing her, he was amazed to hear his own name pronounced in &@ woman’s voice, in accents of one imploring heip. ** Clarence | arence! Help!” For a moment he thought he must be d@ ; The voice was the voice of Helen Lawton, the woman he loved, and who, as he thought, loved him. Where did it come from? There was nothing in sight but that dirty sponge-felucca, and on her decks he could see only a few picturesque ruffians in Greek costume, with long knives in their sashes. They were busied in the ordinary tasks of -Mediter- ranean sailors tae, bags land, getting the anchor ready, coiling away the superfluous ropes, and did not seem to notice the speronare. Presently he heard the voice again, and this time thpre was no mistake. ; Clurence! Clarence Hart! For God's sake, help us , ah] He stared at the felucca, which was about fifty feet to leeward, and felt sure the voice came from thence. But where was Helen? He went to the side and peered anxiously at the felucca, when Helen's voice cried: ““We are here in the cabin. We are pris—” The voice abruptly stopped, and Hart soon saw the reason why. One of the picturesque and rufflanly Greeks on deck had heard her, and now rushed below, baring his long knife. Clarence shouted out.in Romaic to the felucca’s peer: ‘Whom have you in the cabin?” The men looked at the speronare in surprise and seemed to notice for the first time that the little trader had one of the *‘ Western lords"’ on board. 7 aree hat informed them. They held a short confused consultation together in low tones, and then one of them called out: “Mind your own affairs. Keep out of our way, if you want a whole skin.” Ina moment Hart’s blood wasup. He had seen so much of the bullying ways of Europeans in the East that he felt he must do a little bluster on his own account. Therefore he mustered all the Romaic he knew, and called out, in a commanding tone; “ Give up that lady at once, or I'll have your.ves- sel sunk.”’ The spokesman of the Greeks bers a coarse laugh, made a gesture of contempt, and retorted: ‘*if you don’t sheer off Pll kill you, old dog-face.” Hart could hardly help a smile at the — ** kinopees”* (dog-face) as he heard it, This mariner was abusing hintin the same words which Homer puts into the mouth of Achilles, when he berates Agamemnon in the Iliad. To enforce his own reply he turned the belt he wore under his loose sack-coat, and brougbt bis two revolvers, a present from the duke, to the front. “Tf you don’t heave-to at once, I'll make a hole in you,” he answered. The next moment every Greek on the felucca had ous apistol of some sort, and was blazing away at iim. But inasmuch as they were alllarge, old-fashioned flint-lock concerns, most of them missed fire; and all that went off missed him ; for it is by no means easy to hit a man in a chopping sea, when both marksmen and mark are bobbing up and dow?t be- fore a brisk gale. Naturally Hart was nof the man to stend this sort of thing quietly, and out came his two revol- vers in all their glory of ivory butts aad white plat Fratching lis chance, he sent three or fow shets
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of seeing one of his assailants drop, with a ball in | his | | manner as he said: leg. But before he could do more, the captain and crew of the speronare were hanging on him all ng him not to endanger their lives and | round, begei liberty. e sponge-fishers would have a grudge ainst the vessel, and would pay it off after the kee- rie had gone away. Clarence felt so an with the ruffians of the felucca that for a time he felt as if he would like to | into the cabin, leaving the American alone on deck, board her, single-handed, and run a muck through | all her crew. to be relied on, while bis own pistols would puta ball just wheve he wanted. But, while he was still in hesitation as to what to do, not willing to abandon Helen, and yet hardly Pianbad ae Biol to make the timid crew of the spero- nare follow him, the sound of a light signal gun in the offing attracted his attention, and looking out past the sponge-boat he saw the white sails of Dia- mantina’s beautiful felucca yacht, trimmed fiat, stretching out of a crowd of other vessels, about — a to leeward, and running off to the south- east. Instantly his mind was made up. ‘You see that felucca, Put me on board of her and I'll give you two liras in gold ($8) at once,’ he said to the timid Greek captain, who delightedl obeyed, glad to get out of the scrape at any cost. The speronare shifted her helm and ran down to- ward the yacht before the wind, while Hart shook his pistol menacingly back at the felucca, where the Greek vagabonds were hastily trying to reload and prime their weapons. In twenty minutes thereafter the American was saluting the Duke of Diamantina on his own quarter- deck, and hurriedly telling him Helen’s position, im- plorinmg him to rescue her. CHAPTER XXXII. THE QUARREL. Tar Duke of Diamantina listened to the Ameri- can’s impassioned account of what he had seen and heard with the calm and smiling dignity which never left him. The yacht continued to run on to the south-east, and sails were crossing and recrossing the track all the time, so that it would soon be very difficult to identify any vessel in the crowd, unless of very remarkable nen When Clarence had finished, the duke asked: “ My dear sir, what do you wish me to do?” “To rescue her once more, as you did before. Think how easy it will be. There is the pirate or whatever she is, a slow sailer, and here are you, ina clipper. Let us put about and go after those villains. Oh, duke, can yon hesitate?”’ “My dear sir,’’ answered the other, with the same bland smile, * 1 would do much to oblige you; but are — quite certain you know what you want?”’ “T want you torescue a lady from the power of pirates,” retorted Clarence, impatiently. % My dear sir, there are no pirates left in these seas aad replied his companion with the same irritat- Aa, a . *But I tell your grace I heard the lady call to me for help and tell me she was a prisoner in the cabin of that felucca,”’ cried Hart, getting more and more hapatient, iamantina looked at him vely. “My dear sir, you have told me you are in love. Believe me, it was a dream, a fantasy of the head, the heart, the any thing. The lady is in no dan- ger.” te disheartened, Clarence turned away. He had never before met the impassive firmness of the duke set against his own will, and he felt that a struggle was useless. He made a last effort. “Then your refuses to help this unfortunate lady by _ the yacht about?’ “My dear sir, lam going to the island of Negro- nt to meet Dom Gil, about whom you were asking Alexandria, Do you wish to see , sir?” Clarence halted in the uneasy walk he had been taking across the quarter-deck, and answered in a constrained tone of voice: **No, duke. [am sorry I came on board, If the speronare had not gone I would go back in her to Athens. As it is, — first a ae I ask your grace to set me ashore upon. I resign my post.” Diamantina looked at him with steady, glowing eyes for several seconds ere he answered. A < 24 if I take you at your word, you will be sorry ‘or it.” ‘* Never,” retorted Clarence, hotly. ‘I know who ou are, and Nace cause for enmity against the Law- ns; but I did not think it would extend to a help- less lady, who was not born at the time that—”’ The duke interrupted him with a slight wave of the hand. “Monsieur Hart, it is enough,” he said. ‘I ac- cept your resignation as a secretary. Do not force me to be rude to my guest, If you will descend into the cabin you will find madame my mother there, who will endeavor to entertain you tjll we reach the island of Negropont.” But Clarence was too much in love and too frantic at the thought of Helen’s danger to listen to him. He continued to expostulate: “Your grace was ready to save her on the coast of Arabia. hy not now?” he asked, ry ol ly. Then Diamantina stepped toward him, his face transformed. His black eyes glowed like burning coals, his white teeth shone as his lips parted under the jetty mus- tache, and his voice sunk to a low, angry whisper of intense passion. “ Because I choose, sir. 1s that an answer to you? Who are that dare to question me ?” - Then Clarence laughed and met his eyes with a look as fierce as his own. ““Whoam!I? An American. In my land we are all kings. Do you understand me, sir? I dare speak to Gy man who is cruelto a woman, In America we call one who abuses a lady a cowardly villain.” For a moment Hart fancied the duke was about to voluntarily the American started toward him, as . if to meet him with a blow, for the fighting instinct Was roused in both men, e saw that their firearms were not | The Duke of Diamonds. whistling into the felucca, and had the satisfaction Then Diamantina suddenly sobered down; _ the frown left his face, and he resumed his usual icy ‘Sir, I left the lady with her father. 1 decline to interfere with her, now that she is in his control. | You will uot go into the cabin? Good-day.” And the duke, with a slight and haughty inclina- tion of his head, passed Hart and went down-stairs Then, for the first time, Clarence began to feel a reat deal of shame and embarrassment at his posi- ion. He was not a rich man, and had exhausted most of his savings, since leaving the navy, in hunt- ing for that mythical Gilbert Carver he began to think he would never see, The sum he had received from Papadoulos, De- metri & Co. was yet untouched: but he felt that he was & —, on the duke’s bounty while it re- mained in his pocket. He paced to and fro for a few minutes, and then took a sudden determination | to leave the yacht on the first vessel that passed, no matter where bound. Hotheaded and in love, his resolution was quickly put in practice. The yacht was continually passing vessels, and he noticed a large felucca, which he judged from its rig to be Maltese, coming to meet them and heading for Athens, He asked the man at the wheel to steer that way, | and the sailor, a slim, swarthy Lascar, obeyed, without a word showing either surprise or remon- strance. No sooner were they within fair hailing distance than he called out in Italian: ‘* Will you take me into Athens for a lira Turco?” (about $4). “ S4, sigqnor, st !’’ was the eager answer, and the felucca came up close alongside, grazing the yacht as she passed, when Clarence with the expertness of an old man-of-war’s-man, leaped into her main rig- ging and found himself on board the Maltese. As he turned to look back, there was Diamantina, with the princess Melapetros, standing in the cabin- hatch, both looking at him wistfully. All the cold- | ness and anger seemed to have vanished from the face of the duke, while the princess was actually in tears, Feeling guilty, why or how he did not exactly un- derstand, Clarence forbore to do what he had been | just on the point of doing—throwing the duke’s money back on board the yacht. it seemed to him at that moment too much like a causeless insult to | one who had been, up to that moment, as kind and generous as only a prince could be. Thus it was with an air of rather shamefaced re- spect that he took off bis hat and waved his last fare- well, pointing to Athens; and the princess smiled | back at him through her tears, and waved her hand- kerchief, as if in salute. Then the vessel parted, the yacht speeding on one tack, while the Maltese went on the other; and Hart found himself once more alone in the world hunting after a dirty sponge-boat among a hundred other craft exactly alike e, to find, if he could, the 7 of his love. : 6 turned away to inspect the craft on which he | had so unceremoniously intruded, and found her to | be a large Maltese felucca, in ballast, going to Athens for a cargo of olive oil and currants, The skipper was a common specimen of theigno- rant but shrewd sailor of the Mediterranean, with a little smattering of education, enough to enable him to read a bill of lading, and a large experience of every coast on the northern shores of the sea, from | Barcelona to Stamboul. The vessel was a smart sailer, and the houses of Athens were in sight from her decks within an hour after he left Diamantina’s yacht, so that before sun- set our hero was treading the quay at the Pirseus, and looking up to the Acropolis, casting over in his mind all sorts of schemes for recovering Helen Law- ton from her captors. CHAPTER XXXIV. ON BOARD THE FELUCCA. Ir is time that we returned to the Lawtons and | O’Shea, whom we left aboard that piratical-looking sponge-felucca, and find out how it was that Helen managed to call out to Hart, and where they were a! ng. e fact was that, the next day after leaving Crete, the English party had been taken down to a | cabin with a decided flavor of stale sardines about | it, where the ladies had been locked in, while Sir | Lumley and O’Shea were taken forward and put } down in the hold among the qponges: What became of them neither Helen nor Lorelia | knew after they~were taken away, and their only | occupation left was to look out of the little round | windows in the stern of the felucca over the spark- | ship to come | ling sea, and long for some English within hailing distance. Who were their captors they knew no more than | at first. They had been offered no violence, were | supplied with plenty of food, such as it was; and no | attempt was made to rob them of any of their valua- | bles, Nevertheless "they were kept in strict captivity, and it was with a feeling of positive rapture that Helen Lawton, looking out of the window in. the afternoon of the second day, saw thelittle speronare | ass under their stern, and recognized on her deck he well-known pee of Clarence Hart, in his white rf suit and puggaree hat. It was with the first rapturous instinct of hope that she screamed out, ‘ Clarence! Clarence! help!” She saw him start and look earnestly at the feluc- ca, and felt aunt Lorelia crowding up eagerly beside her as she repeated the cry: “Clarence, Mr, Hart, we are here in the cabin. Help us!” But it was not to be, that time. She heard a bustle on deck, and then one of the pirates came rushing down the hatch into the cabin, | swearing away in Greek at a tremendous rate, flour- ishing a knife, and making himself so offensive that there was no sort of misconception of his meaning in any language. He caught poor Lorelia by the hair at the back of her head, gave it a jerk, intending to pull her back; anit iamteat Of that, pulled the whole of it off, and flung it into the corner of the cabin. Poor Miss Lawton, appalled at the loss of her new switch, fell on her knees with a wild scream, when aoe said i . es ae mee | but did not dare to look back to see if hers Helen, brandished his knife close to her face an told her, as plain as signs could say, that if she we to that window any more, he would cut off her nose, Naturally both these timid women were scared b his thundering voice and furious manner, and shrup away into corners of the cabin in silence, while the sounds of shots overhead announced that quite a this picturesque but unmannerly ruffian turned ng | little battle was going on up there, on account of the ladies. It was soon over, and the next intimation they had of what had occurred was when a man came limpin down the cabin stairs, dropping blood as he wate. and growling out all the curses in the Greek vo- cabulary on the head of the “‘English devil’? whe had shot him. Then the poor women felt indeed afraid. Up to that time they had been treated with so much respect that the cabin had been left to their sole occupancy; but now here were four or five pe turesque ruffrans binding up their comrade’s leg, before the scandalized Lorelia, and cursing away in Greek all the time. Tt seemed as if a change was coming over their es phy t did not last long, however. As soon as they had tied up their comrade’s leg and laid him in one of the bunks to groan and swear at his leisure, the rest of the men went up-stairs, and all was quiet for some time, till the increasing gloom of the cabin warned them that night was coming on. They could hear through the windows a good deat of creaking and splashing that told of pale g ~_—_ | while hails in Greek and Italian were frequent, ut wn they did not attempt anything more on their o account in the way of calling for help. If one of them made anything like a motion to go near astern window the wounded pirate growled at them so fiercely that they were glad to retire, and so matters went on till it. was pitch dark, the two women cling- ing together in terror, while the noise outside had sunk to quietness and was slowly superseded by the hollow rumbling of surf on rocks, At last the motion of the vessel became easier, showing that she was entering some sheltered inlet; and after a while they heard the creak and rattle of es and blocks made by lowering sails, and the sullen splash of the anchor as it drop into the water. Then one of the Greek sailors looked down the hatch and called out what sounded like: ** Ikkany sjoce.”’ Helen was as ignorant of Greek as most youn ladies, but she a kind of notion that this meant, ‘Come up, you two!” and she was right; for the flaring light of a torch was soon held at the mouth of the hatchway, and one of the sailors received them with a low bow and motioned them to the side, where a boat was waiting for them. Helen looked timidly up and around her, and saw | that they were in a small sheltered cove, surrounded with abrupt black age ng that shut out all view, and made her feel as if they were in the bottom of a ; well, On these rocks, on the side toward which she was gazing, she saw a group of men in Greek cos- tume, with bright flaring torches, the light gee on their long guns and the knives and pistols wi which their sashes bristled. In the boat sat her father, his head bowed on his breast, his whole attire indicating dejection, while the dull gleam of handcuffs and anklets showed that. he had been harshly treated. O'Shea was nowhere to be seen. As soon as she saw her father Helen stepped into the boat and would have gone to him, when one of the Greeks shook his head and pointed to a place in the stern- sheets, where he compelled her to sit with her aunt. Not a word was spoken as they rowed to shore, till one of the Greeks clapped Sir Lumley familiarly on the shoulder, and cried: * Tkkany, ikkany !”’ (Come, come.) Then the baronet started out of his stupor of de- poe and submitted to be led ashore, where he t seemed to notice that Helen was with them. ‘My child!” he muttered with a pitiable attempt at a smile; “ this is a sad Sty Then one of his guards pulled him roughly away, and he was hustled off by a crowd of fellows worse looking than the piratical sponge-fishers. About the latter there me t be a doubt; but there was no question as to these fellows, ey were thorough bred bandits, and Helen rea that her whole family was in their power. Trembling and in silence, the two women followed their captors up a steep ape path. which wound in and out among the rocks till they had lost sight of the haven into which they had come, when they halted in_a little valley, nestled between two spurs of the hills, and found there three ponies, twe ot which were saddled for ladies. Obeying signs rather than words, the two Misses Lawton mounted these animals, which at once set off at a brisk trot, and prevented them seeing what. became of Sir Lumley, who was left behind. Beside each pony ran a pair of tall mountaineers, keeping pace with the animal with ap nt ease, and behind them ml Bering a good desl of shout and laughing, which Helen did not dare to interpre’ to herself. She had heard horrible stories “of the cruelties of were well founded. She knew she could not help him, and hoped she was mistaken. Thus they rushed on through the night, always at’ the same pace, the horses in a 8 rot, the men running on as if weariness were a th & unknown te | them. How long they went on in this way Helen could not tell, tired and jolted pd gene’ as she was, sore and miserable; but the red streaks of dawn were blushing in the eastern, sky when they came toa halt at fast, in the midst of a wild confusion of rocks and mountains, and her conductors began to make peculiar calls into the darkness round them, imita- ting the cries of goats. Pret soon the whole party was clustered to- gether in the midst of the valley, and Helen looked round herfor her father. Allshe could see was a | prostrate form, that seemed to be tied face down- ward on the back of the third pony, and full of hor- ror at the idea that he was dead, she jumped off hex tically, horse, ran to the other, and cried fran
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: des, int he Ms See ae The Duke of Diamonds. ‘‘Father, father, speak to me! Say you are alive.” “Only just,” muttered Sir Lumley, in_a hoarse errr “the wretches—have nearly—killed me— Nelly.* The brigands made no attempt to separate them now. On the contrary, they seemed to be trying to make up for their harshness on the road, for they took Sir Lumley off his horse, cutting the ropes with which he was tied, and laid him gently on the rass One of them even handed Helen a small ask of arrack, with signs to give some to her father, who seemed completely. exhausted. Poor Sir Lumley swallowed a few mouthfuls of the fiery liquid, which restored him so much that he was able to sit up and tell the story of how he came in such a pitiable plight. “They tied me to the beast’s tail and made me run with my hands tied behind me. They pricked me up when I fell with their knives,’ he groaned. “Then, when I let the horse drag me, not caring whether I lived or died, they fastened me on as you | saw, and here I am.” Poor Helen wept bitterly over her father’s woes, and aunt Lorelia came close to them asif for sym- pathy, shuddering and crying: “Ob, Lumley, I told you how it would be when we left. Alexandria in that odious vessel. Why didn’t you stick to our own steamers? Here we are, in the midst of murderers and cannibals; and Heaven only knows when we shall ever get out, if at all.” Sir Lumley could only _— for answer as he looked at the grim faces of the brigands. CHAPTER XXXV. THE BRIGANDS. Wuie they were discussing their ition ‘and groaning the dawn was advancing, and they could see the faces'and costume of theig captors. In spite of their position Helen could not help admiring the | beauty of both. The features and figure of so many Apollos, all | attired in velvet jackets and leggings, white silk | rofusion of gold beerbin rad would | et kilts and a p have warmed the heart of a French artist among them. Presently they heard the scream of a hawk among the rocks, and out rode a tall Pyeng eee old villain, with a long beard and curls that swept his shoulders, all of the most dazzling white. e was mounted on one of the little hill ponies, and bis dress fairly blazed with gold as he came to meet them, when all the band raised a shout of: ““At/ Ai! Ketrie! At!” “Who is that? asked Helen of one of her cap- tors, indicating the advancing old man. The bandit threw back his black curls with a proud toss as. he answered: “Wa to Keerie Sokrdhtié, quinie.” (That is Lord Socrates, woman.) Naturally Helen did not understand anything of this except the name; and that conveyed no idea to loose her mind, for she had never heard of this particular | professor of highway robbery. But Mr. Socrates soon set all her doubts at rest by coming up and saying in English: “T am charm, much charm to see Sare Lomlee. I’ave expeck eem for some-a time-a.” Sir Lumley looked wearily up. * me? What do you mean?” “T mean that we’ave hear of de so beauteeful vatch you ‘ave wid de ladies. I read de papers, sare, and ve get de Bord du Nil. Charm to see you. We shall enjoy de mountains ver’ moch, dis time.” Sir Lumley looked up at him, and saw that the old man’s keen black eyes were bent on him with a curious and malicious expression, as if he enjoyed the prospect of torturing him. “We are in your power and must pay for it,’ an- swered the baronet, sullenly. ‘‘How much do you want for our lives and liberties?” ““How moch?”’ said Mr. Socra in a meditative tone. “Let me see. You are nglish milordo, You ’ave de great estate in England.’ ‘No such thing,” interrupted Sir Lumley, hastily. “Tm apoorman. I’ve only got my savings.” “Yes, sare, I know. Dey are feeftee t’ousand eenee Ingles in de fou’ (you call ‘im fond?) and e@ vatch, and bracelets, and necklace of de late ah of Krishnapoor. Ts dat not true?” r. Socrates laughed in a silvery manner as he consulted a little book from which he read out these items, and watched Sir Lumley’s face. “Your bankair in Athens is M. de Rosenbaum, sare, and ’e is de agent for Barings, of London, who hold de trust of your fond. Is it not true, sare?” Sir Lumley felt the sweat roll down his face as he stammered: “ How do you know my affairs?” “Det is beezee-ness, sare. I would be poor man if I did not keep de record of de travellair. My men "ave watch you since you sail in de Aphrodite, and de captain ’e be great friend of mine. Ve call eem Keerie Glypteros.”’ Sir Lumley tried to smile. “That is no news. We felt sure he wasa traitor when the Aphrodite left us. Come, how much do you want for us?” ‘“‘Feeftee t’ousand gueenee Ingles, and de jewel,” was the bland response of Mr, Socrates, Sir Lumley ira, Hes up from the ground and faced the chief in indignation that banished his fears as he cried: ‘ eee “ You shall never have it, I'll die first.” Mr. Socrates rubbed his hands together as if he was very well pleased atthe retort. “Dat is ver’ good, sare. You can die at once whenever you weesh. My son, Alkibiahdé, will keel you wid de great pleasure. We will take our time about eet.” He spoke to one of the good-looking scamps by his side, who in a inoment had tripped up Sir Lumley, when he was seized by four others and held as in a vise, while Mr. Socrates went on: “We always kill de obstinate people by inches, Bare. ‘Alkibiahaé vill begin by knock out your teeth, one at a time, wid de butt of his pistol. Den ve vill eut off your fingares, one by one. Ve vill give you an hour between each loss, to give you a leetle chance to eae Bs o% mind. Now, sare, ve vill be- ey gin. Alkihich te to keerie.”’ But Sir Lumley had heard enough, and knew the the words well b, (‘* Alcibia- gantleman.’’) not totry save himself, Struggling fiercely he shouted out, as well as he | could: * Waita minute. Ill pay.” | Mr. Socrates waved his band, and Sir Lumley was set on his feet, while the brigands who had been | holding back Helen and Lorelia from any sort of in- ' terference released them. The women at once rushed to Sir Lumley and clung around him, imploring him to save his life, to consent to anything rather than be tortured to death, and the baronet visibly trembled. There was something so appalling in the method of death romised by the smiling brigand, and his exemplary amil that Sir Lumley was demoralized. He tried to make a bargain. “ Come, Keerie Sokrahtié,”’ he said; ‘‘ don’t let’s get into a passion. You don’t want to take all I have in | the world and leave me a ing Tl give you a | check for a thousand pounds. on’t that do?” | Keerie Sokrahtié bland smile. . **Oh, no, sir, Imust’ave an order on Monsieur Rosenbaum for all de stock in de fou’, (funds,) transfer to my name, through Meestare Baring, in London.” ‘*But, what use would that be to you?’ asked Sir | Lumley, in desperation. ‘‘ They would never pay it to you, without you were identified in London.” “Pardon, sare,” was the oily answer. ‘Iam well known in London. I bank with M. Baring myself.” * But, if I do any such thing I shall be left a beg- gar,” urged Sir Lumley. : The old brigand shrugged his shoulders with the same bland smile. **You are not seexty yet, sare, and you ’ave de ceeveel serveece. I ‘ave to live.as I can, sare.”’ “Ti tell you what I'l) do,” said Sir Lumle denly. ‘‘lll divide with you. Will that do, Sokraéhtié?”’ The old Greek pulled out a snuff-box. **No, sare, it will not do,’ he said, as he o it. “T want’ (here he took a pinch) “ feeftee~ P ) **t’ousand pound,” (sniff) ‘‘and de jewel ” (sniff) * of de late Rajah of Krishnapoor. If you do not decide | in t’ree minute, I teli Alkibi4hdé to begeen again,”’ sud- where the men had ps kindled a rousing fire. The shuddering group oO heating some old knives red-hot in the fire. Then Sir Lumley, with a great effort, said to his sister: ‘“‘Lorelia, we must give up your watch. Have you the bracelets and necklace with you, there?” Pale and trembling, Lorelia hastily took off that fatal watch, with a splendid necklace and bracelets back to them. bow. **Now, sare,’’ he said to Sir Lumley, “we are peney: Will you sign the order, or shall we cut you into leetel pieces? The old brigand took them with a € are ready now.” CHAPTER XXXVI. RETRIBUTION. As Keerie Sokrahtié ne his smile became par- | ull of triumphant meaning, | ticularly wicked and | so that Helen hid her face on her father’s breast, while Lorelia shrieked and shuddered. . Sir Lumley turned very pale and answered, hasti- ly: Mi Iconsent. Vll sign anything you like, Then you will let me go, I suppose? ‘““When we ’ave make secure de’ole beezeness, | sare,” was the cautious reply. | Then Mr. Socrates turned to his men and called : om something in Greek, as he dismounted from his orse, The handsome Alkibiaéhdé advanced to his father’s side, took the horse and dashed off among the hills like a rough rider, while Mr. Socrates, now all mellifluous courtesy, went through the formality of introducing Sir amo ef to his whole band, the members of which bowed with stately gravity as their names were mentioned. ‘These, sare, are my nine sons," said the old rob- ber, proudly. ‘AristioG, Stefano, TokioG, Aristo- télié, Periklié, Demetri, Teseo, Sofoklé, and Alki- | bidhdé, whois gone. Dese are my cousins, twenty- three of dem, and dere is our leetel familee. You like dem, sare?” Sir Lumley gloomily assented, for he could say no long string of modernized classical names, as he proudly paraded his interesting family of cut- throats. “T ‘ave rule de mountain since I was a boy, sare. De Turk and de Greek dey all fear me, and | laugh at de police. Now we will ‘ave de dinner, sare.” And the little group of captives soon found them- selves sitting down with a band of brigands, who | treated them with the most distinguished courtesy, till the return of Mr. Alkibiéhdé, who came racing | back with another Greek person of clerical aspect, who wore Spoons po and had no weapon save an inkhorn and sachel of papers. This personages was introduced as “ Our cousin, Mr. Sofoklé;"’ and Mr. Sophocles soon showed him- business; for he produced an order on English consols to ** Sofoklé, Sokréhtié and Company, of 98 Strand, London, merchants, for value received.” availing struggle for terms, which was terminated by the threat of beginning operations with red-hot knives, and then watched with a rueful face the de- parture of Mr. Sophocles, who galloped away, as the old chief informed him, to Athens, to see to the *“beezeness.”’ “And now, sare,’’ observed Keerie Sokraéhtié, “we ’ave settle our leetle affaire. You vill stay ’ere till de return of Keerie Sofoklé wid de monie, and den you s‘all go te Athens. In de meantime I ‘ave odair leetle t’ing to settle. You vill write out a full confession of de truth in de death of de Rajah of Krishnapoor, to use in de suit for de restoration of his son dasa.”’ And he rubbed his hands. Sir Lumley sprung to his feet in excessive aston- prisoners saw that they were | } | ; | i were so obviously eager to begin operations, | ook his head with the same | 23 ‘* What do you mean?” he almost screamed. “ Am I not free yet ?” ‘“‘From Keerie Sokrahtié, yes, sare; but not from ag Prag a mon Be ‘ Anis det elen and aunt Lorelia rose in great di an alarm, and the elder lady cried out: “Good heavens, Lumley, what does he mean? The Duke of Diamantina is our friend.”’ As for Helen she looked at her father in mute amazement for a minute, and then covered her face with her hands, ejaculating: ‘**And you knew who he was all the time. Would to Heaven we had all died before this came to us.” “But what does he mean?’ persisted Lorelia, fretfully. ‘Who is the duke, Lumley? Can't you answer?” It was Keerie Sokrahtié who answered for him, for Sir Lumley seemed to be incapable of speech. “T will calla eee who will teil you, madame. ‘Ere is Keerie Glypteros.”’ And down the valley came riding a tall, thin man in blue flannel clothes, whom they ized in a moment as the treacherous captain of the Aphrodite. The stranger dismounted close to the fire and came up to Sir Lumley. S on you've forgotten me,"’ hesaid. ‘“ My name’s Carver. The people of napoor called me Gilkarvah when I commanded his highness’s body-guard. I had a beard in those days, and it was off when we met in Egypt at the club. Do you re- member me yet, Sir Lumley Lawton?” Sir Lumley was ¢ pale and seemed to be choking, but he managed to whisper: ‘In merey—not before ‘hem—”’ The Yankee adventurer smiled bitterly. “Not before them! Your sister and daughter | who have believed you to be an honorable man eerie | | Merey! these years, when wé have known you to be a traitor that bit his benefactor! No; not before them?! Did you show mercy to the noblest gentle- | man in India, when you ordered him blown from a | British cannon and stole his jewels from the dead | ket-place? No, no, Lu ; last. Then he put up his snuff-box, turned his pony’s | head and walked the animal away several paces to | of emerald, which she habitually wore under her | | dress, and held them out as Keerie Sokréhtié rode | less; and Mr. Socrates proceeded to give another | self an admirable English scholar and an adept in | stamped blanks, ready filled in, for Sir Lumley to | sign, transferring his stock in the three per cent. | body, which rotted away unburied in his own mar- ey Lawton. Twenty years is long to wait, but our time for justice has come at Give us a full confession and restore my boy 4 his father’s throne; or you never leave this place ve.” **T will doit,’’ muttered Lawton, with lips. = Carver laughed a short, fierce laugh of satisfac- ion, ““ That’s better. We know each other now. Here is the account which I have made of the affair. . It tells how you made proposals to the Ranee, and how, in revenge for* ber rejection, you committed perjury against the Rajah. It tells how you com- pelled Sergeant O'Shea, of the artillery, to give up the watch, presented him by the Rajah, and con- ferred it on_your sister, telling her you had bought it for her. It recites your knowledge of the inno- cence of Rajah Kalidasa, and prays the Em of India to do justice and restore the young Rajah to his proper place. Thereitis. Will you sign it?” e handed Sir Lumley a large parchment en- grossed in the form of a petition and pointed out some signatures on the foot. ‘*There is Captain O’Shea’s name,” he said, “* with that of Sergeant Major Dobbs, who was the corporal of the gun and saw the execution. Thére are the names of nine officers present at the execution, all joining in the petition. Now will you sign it?” The unhappy baronet read it over, the sweat roll- ing ee his as a a his sister stood. as yzed, watching him in silente. At last he faltered: “T cannot doit, man. Life would not be worth having if I owned all that to be true.” Before Carver could answer Helen swept forward, pale and resolute. ‘**Father,” she said, simply, ‘‘is this all true?” _ Lumley buried face in his hands and groan- ed. She pressed closer to him. “Don’t be ashamed to tell the truth, father. We can make amends for the past if we only tell the truth. lam not afraid to work for you, dear. Any- oon is better than living alie all our lives. Is it rue 33 me, it is, Helen; he groaned, “and Diamantina is his son. I knew him and Effie the moment I saw them.” ‘“‘ Then sign the petition,’’ was her quiet reply. ‘It you did them wrong twenty years ago do them right t now. I, for one, am ready to bear the result.” Carver had been staring at her in a si ar man- ner all this time without saying a word. Now he beckoned to Keerie Sokraéhtié, and the brigands re- tired to a little distance and left the Lawtons to themselves. They could see Helen picoting with her father and hear every now and then the querulous tones of Lorelia reproaching them both, but they did not attempt to f° near them, and so fora good half- hour the girl pleaded with the man for justice while the bandits looked curiously on. At last Sir Lumley was heard to call out: “Give me the paper, in Heaven's name. You wish my public disgrace? Then on your head be the consequences,”’ Then he came toward them, his face set and desperate, and cried out in tones that showed his fears were all gone: Pid me pen and ink. I'll sign it on one eon ition.” - “And what is that?” asked Carver. “That you lend me a pistol and fight me, you! | you who have brought all this on me,” was the Sir Lumley signed the order, after another un- | almost frenzied reply. “You shall have it,” answered Carver, promptly; “but sign first.” He took out a gold pen and pencil case from his ocket with a slow deliberation; then brought out a ittle screw flask of ink which he opened and held ready for Sir Lumley while one of the br offer- ed the flat stock of his gun for a hasty writing-desk. With face of ashy pallor but a firm hand the baronet subscribed the record of his own infamy and then threw down the pen with a deep curse. The imperturbable Carver calmly picked it up and wrote his own name as witness, after which he dried? the paper at the fire, folded it up, putit in his breast et, his ink-bottle and pen with the same quiet deliberation; then turned to observed: Sir Lumley and
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Pa ae op boom te ee eer The Duke of Diamonds. an am Pi chk a - * * ae vay, none EE * Now, cunnel, I'm ready for:you.” “Then give me the pistol,’ snarled Sir Lumley, gat A 4 d you should have it and so you shall,” was the quiet reply, ‘* hut you ain't going to shoot any one of this crowd. Now look here. I’m goin’ to ive this pistol to Alkibifhdé here. He shall take it own the stream to that big rock and leave it there. If you want it go and get it there.”’ ‘© his surprise Simhmley nodded as if satisfied. “Do as you please,” he said. “I only want the pisto}.”’ Then Alkibiéhdé set off at a gallop down the valle and the baronet turned to his daughter and shoo, his finger at her in a menacing manner as he said: “You made me disgrace myself just now, Helen. I hope you'll be sorry for it before night. But before he could go Helen was clinging around him in tears be him to forgive her, and he relented so far as to kiss her coldly on the brow as he said: **Good-by. If these gentlemen choose to stop me they can doit. I’m going to Athens on foot to com- 1) to the British consul.” Carver sneered as he went off. * All the British consul can do can't hurt us,”’ he called out after Sir Lumley. ‘ Walk off your tem- per among the mountains. You can't leave them.” He thought that the angry and much humiliated baronet was trying to escape and he well knew the futility of any such attempts. At a sign from him two of the mountaineers rose and went after Sir Lumley whom _! saw approach the big stone and stoop for the pistol, Good-by."* | Then the baronet turned toward them and threw up his hands to heaven as rhe ye ees a curse, A moment later Helen ut a fearful shriek and fell senseless to the ground. | At the same instant came a flash and report. Sir Lumley had blown out his brains, unable to bear his impending disgrace and poverty. CHAPTER XXXVII. UNCLE AND NEPHEW. CiarENcE Hart, weary and disheartened, sa { in the public room of the Hotel de Pericles, in Athens, writing a letter home to hismother. He had utterly | failed to find Helen Lawton and had been unable even to meet with the supposed Socdas host in | which he had seen her, though he had visited every | felucca in the harbor of the Pireeus, and sharply | scanned every Greek sailor he had met. He had besieged all the consuls for help, but in vain. None of them would take any trouble on his vague statement of what he had seen, and all seem- ed to be more or less indifferent about the fate of the Lawtons, “* My dear fellow, they've got among the brigands,"’ | said the American consul, “and they'll have to pa a round sum for their deliverance, that’s all. | ¢ can't interfere unless you show us where they | are. Funny thing about those sponge-fishers, though. Didn't believe there was any trace of piracy left in these seas.” The English consul and all the rest were ‘sorry, but such things happened every day."’ And so poor Clarence sat down with a weary heart to write home to his mother all about his adventures | and misfortunes, and especially of the disappear- ance of Dom Gil Grabador, whom he fancied to be | his unele Gilbert Carver. While he was still writing away he heard some | one cough near him, and looked up, for the cough seemed designed to gain bis attention. There, pr and formal as ever, in his glossy black, sat Mr. Glypteros, the Yankee-Greek partner | of vir seme Demetri and company, a grim smile | mantling on a tert visage. ; e Waal, Mr. Hart,” exclaimed this person, with- out the slightest ceremony, “if you ain't the con- sarnedest, edest, pig-headed son of a sea cook [I | ever knew, bu’st me into fiddle-strings.”’ } For a moment Clarence was too much amazed to answer, and then he jumped up, demanding furious- “What do you mean, sir?” Who are you talking | **To the darndest pig-headed fool in all Athens,” | was the composed answer. ‘A feller that ain’t got no more brains than a weasel, and ought to be kick- | ed all the way from the Acropolis to the Pirgeus. | What do you say to that, sonny?” Clarence Hart could pee believe his eyes and | ears, This man was actually jeering at him in a | public room, and he looked round him to see if any one was within hearing. There were only two wait- ers, but they were grinning and his temper rose to fever heat. He turned furiously round on Mr. Glypteros, and | lo! that gentleman had snatched up his letter to his | mother and was coolly cant ys 2 it! In an instant Hart rushed at him, clutched at the letter, and a moment later was locked in the long | nervous arms of Mr. Glypteros, who handled him with the strength of a steam-engine, lifted him as if he had been a child, and finally forced him down in- | to a chair, tripping his feet from under him, remark- i : “h Ne vou don’t, nore OF Your-ancle’s got hold of ou, and IT want you to know it. The old man ain’t | ost his gripe yet. No, sir-ree, bob!” There was something so peculiar in the way in which this was said, with its. quaint old-fashioned | Americanisms, that Clarence felt all his fu givin way to irresistible laughter, and then an idea sud- denly cameinto his head as he stared at Mr. Glyp- ’ teros. ‘‘ Why, is it possible you are Gilbert Carver after all? What an idiot I’ve been.’ His uncle (for it was of course none other) gave a dry sniff, and made no answer save to smooth out | the crumpled letter and read it aloud with com- ments. ***T cannot help thinking I’ve found uncle Gilbert at last in the person of Dom Gil—’ Waal, sonny, if you’d not been as blind as a bat, you'd have geen that the first day we met. ‘But alas, I fear I have lost him—’ I should think so,” Then he turned on Clarence with a face of affected Ss. “ What made you insult the Duke of Diamantina? Hadn’t he been kind enough to you?” “He had,” replied the other, with a blush of em- barrassment, “but he refused to let me save Miss | or ey fe Key he ‘uh =e ens a y See pce 2 “ob = ae abe sc elhan " difom ee Siegen pe tt oe | I was right. eee! Lawton from the pirates, and now she’s ; lost.’ “Oh, that’s it, is it? Waal, suppose I show you the lady herein Athens under the duke’s protection, what would you say to that ?” * But is it true, sir?” ‘Waal, I ain't used to tellin’ lies, Clarence, and I say it’s so. Say, you're sweet on that girl, ain't | you? Own up now.” ‘Tf you mean do I love her, sir, you are right,” was Clarences’s dignified answer. ‘The lady is one of the best women I know.”’ Gilbert Carver dropped his slangy way of talking | at once as soon as he saw that his nephew felt hurt. He held out his hand and shook that of Clarence warmly and affectionately as he said: “Clarence, you have spoken the truth. She is one of the noblest women that ever breathed God's air, andif you ever get her you will be a lucky | man."’ ** Ah, sir, there’s not much chance of that,’ said r Hart, — If she is safe, as — say, with iamantina, he is the man she will make happy not me. What chance has a r man like me got to win the child of an English baronet? Don’t talk of it, sir. The duke does what he likes with,any wo- man,”’ Carver uttered a low chuckle. “And do you think Diamantina would marry Helen Lawton, if she’d have him?” “Why not, sir? She is not beneath him.” “That’s nothing to do with it, Do you su he’d marry a girl whose father murdered /is fa “ Why, sir, what—”’ “You don is?” “No, sir. I have of course suspected. “Then ask yourself what possible circumstances could make a match between those two. Your love has blinded you, young man. When the duke warned — away from her he did it to keep you from su nt, Be the retribution that was yet to come on the Lawtons. Now it has come. Justice has been done, Sir Lumley Lawton is dead.” Dead, sir? ‘Dead by his own hand; afraid to face the dis- race his own hand wrought for himself. And elen is alone in the world now.” “Oh, sir, tell me where she is. quickly.” “Stop, Clarence!”’ Carver’s face was grave as he laid his hand on his nephew's shoulder. My boy, twenty years dragged a noble man to foul has been my aim in life to restore the Rajah’s son to his father’s throne. I brought him ap education in the wide world, helped h carry off the hidden treasures o and increased them tenfold be wise trading. You understand now how Papadoulos, Demetri and Co, pose er?’ ” Let me go to her are only another name for Diamaptina’s millions. I | have ainassed those millions for him and he has not | Do you know why we heaped | been ungrateful. ga an “Hardly, sir. I su M “Tt was to seat fidasa on his father’s throne and that can only be done by the public exposure of Lawton's crime,”’ “ Well, sir, how does that—”’ “Concern you? Thus. If you marry Helen Law- | ; and lives on his estates. ton you marry into a family whose shame will soon be published to the world.” ‘Be it so, sir. She has had no share in the guilt, and should have none in the shame.” ‘Nevertheless, it will come.”’ “Then the more need she should have a husband to shieid her from the sneers of the world.” “You will marry her then?” “Tf she will have me, sir.” “Then you're true grit, boy,’’ answered Carver, a kind look lighting up his rugged features. ‘I’ve been trying you all this time. houses in Athens. “Here,” said the elder, “is Diamantina’s house. Helen is there. I expect you to apologize to the duke for leaving him so rudely the other day.” Clarence flushed up. “TH do it, sir,” he answered, “ though I still think CHAPTER XXXVIII. CONCLUSION. But, Clarence was never destined to make a formal apology to the Duke of Diamantina. As he entered | the house and went into one of the grand saloons with Carver, he was met by the princess, who came running out to greet him as if she had known him | | from his boyhood, and embraced him—to his in- tense confusion—and called out to her son: “ Kalidasa, Kalidasa, here is our young prodigal returned! Ah, Monsieur Clarence, how could you think my son would be cruel to zat sweet little lady? She is in there, and we wish you to console her; is it not so, Kalidasa?’ And then Diamantina came forward and claspe his hand with the warmth of an Englishman, while his large eyes were full of tears, and he whispered: ‘‘Thave forgiven them all now. He did my fa- ther’s memory justice, ere he died, and we must re- pair the injury to his child.” “What do you mean?” asked Clarence, who re- membered his uncle's words: ** Will you forego the claim to the throne of Krishnapoor in deed?” ** My dear sir,"’ answered the other, with his old sweet smile, “* krishnapoor has forgotten us now, and I have lived. long enough in the world to know that, with all her cruelties, England governs the State better than the Rajahs of old did, I shall es- tablish my claim by a private father’s name from ottonae India in, My race came from the Caucasus, and to the Caucasus it will return for fresh blood. I my- self owe much of my vigor to the white blood of my mother, and have seen much of civilization to ive it up for the lazy barbarism of a Hindoo Rajah. ut come; we waste time. I have prepared the t, I shall never see ' lady for your visit, and you will remember that in wovuing her you woo as the nephew of my friend and benefactor, Gilbert Carver, and the heir of a fortune such as isnot often seen in America, Go in!” Ie pointed to the door of the boudoir into which | | new t mean to say you don't know who he | the Princess Welapetros had just gone, and Clarence entering, found himself in the presence of Helen Lawton in deep black. Diamantina Palace is blazing with light within and without, while the strains of the bands pla, in Ezbekiah Park mingle with the songs, nch, | Italian, Greek and Arab that float up to the stars from hundreds of little cafés chantants all through the modern quarter of Cairo. There isa wedding going on at the Diamantina mansion, and the duke is bland and smiling as ever though he is not the bridegrcom, There is the chaplain of the American mission to | perform the ceremony, and the bride is none other than the Princess Melapetros, as beautiful as ever, who stands beside a tall, thin man with a long, ointed gray beard, who looks old enough to be her ather. His breast covered with gold embroidery, ! | New Year's eve, 1879, in the city of Cairo, and the | his dark blue uniform, red fez and scimitar, show | him to be an officer of rank in the Khedive’s service, and the guests all speak of him with hag Sty as Kahvah Pasha, the Intendant of Finances for the Khedive, Mohammed Tewfik Pasha. Among the guests we notice a young American face, the wearer dressed in the Egyptian uniform of a lower grade, and haying on his arm a beautiful young lady, who is evidently his wife. “ By the powers, Hart Bey,” says a voice, close to his elbow, “the ould man looks young again, don’t he? and as for the princess, bedad, she puts the colleen here to shame for her twent vears{” The speaker is none other than O'Shea, in eveni dress, with a watch chain glittering with diamonds falling over his vest. Hart Bey smiles, ‘*Where’s Mrs, O'Shea, to-night?’ he asks. “‘ Hasn't 7: Shea winks riousiy, and in hisper, ‘Shea w mysterio , and says ina w A into Hart’s ear: | Sokrahtié & Co.” © that girl’s father | ‘grace and death. It | ave him his | 8S mother to | Rajah Kalidasa Come with me!’” | onl Full of wonder Clarence followed his newly-found | 75 Geyrim“an GEORGE, uncle from the hotel to one of the handsomest | | 108 Tar Duke or DIAMONDS. 109 | 110 Tae SttexT RIPLEMAN. penn, and clear my | 111 Tur Sucaouer CAPTAIN; Or, “She never likes to come near the princess; they're the same age!” Is it true? Itis. Captain O’Shea has married the fair Lore and neither has done so very badly. She has secur a real, live husband, and he has got back not on his watch, but fifty thousand pounds besides, whi came to him on his wedding day marked “ Sofoklé, Who they were, he never knew, nor did his wife enlighten him, while Helen naturally said nothing on the subject connected with so many painful memo- ries. None the less, it was Sir Lumley's ill-gotten fortune, which, after being extorted from him by the brigand’s threats, had now been given back to his sister by the generous prince, from whose revenues it was originally stolen, ‘or O'Shea, like a true-hearted Ivishman, settled it all on his wife, and the pair lived in clover off the interest, Clarence Hart and his uncle are both to-day in the Rexpeian service as Kahvah Pasha and Hart Bey, and since the marriage of the former to the Princess Melapetros, the duke has been getting restless, and Srespene to go to Vienna and marry some German princess. As for Helen Hart she has long since, in her happy union with Clarence, forgotten most of her troub es; and Owen, who is now Lord ae ery a by the death of his consumptive uncle, has leff the navy THE END. Beadle’s Dime Library. 72 Tae Paantom Hanp. By Albert W. Aiken... 73.TuHe Kyiaut oF THE Rep Cross. By Dr. J. H. Robinson .... 74 CAPTAIN OF THE RIFLES. 76 Tae Queen's Musketeer. By Geo. 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