Our Midnight Visitor.

Feilding Star, Volume XV, Issue 79, 30 September 1893, Page 5 (Supplement)

Our Midnight Visitor.

\CotttiiiJca front Last Week. I have seldom lizard a inoiv brilliant conversationist. Of an evening he wonld keep my farln-i ami myself spellbound by the kitchen fin* for hours and hours, while he chatted away in a desultory fashion an I smoked bis cigarettes. It seemed to me that the packet lie had brought with him on the first night must have consisted entirely of tobacco. I noticed that in theso conversations, which were mostly addressed to my father, Übed unconsciously perhaps to play upon the weak side of the old man's nature. Tales of cunning, of smartness, of various ways in which mankind had beeu cheated aud money gained came most readily to his lips, and were relished by an eager listener. 1 could not help one night remarking upon it when my father had gone out of the room, laughing hoarsely and vibrating with amusement over some story of how the Biscayan peasants will strap lanterns to a bullock's horns, and, taking the beast some distance inland on a stormy night, will make it prance aud rear so thafc the ships at sea may imagine it to be the lights of a vessel and steer fearlessly in that direction, ouly to find themselves on a rock bound coast. "You shouldn't tell such tales to an old man," I said. "My dear fellow," he answered very kindly, "you have seen nothing of the world yet. You have formed fine ideas, no doubt, and notions of delicacy and such things, and you are very dogmatic about them, as clever men of your age always are. I had notions of right and wrong once, but it has been all knocked out of me. It's just a sort of varnish which the rough friction of the world soon rubs off. I started with a whole soul, but there are more gashes and seams and scars in it now thau there are in my body, and that's pretty fair, as you'll -ajlow" — with which he pulled open his tunic aud showed me his chest. "Good heavens!" I said. "How on earth did you get those?" "This was a bullet," he said, pointing to a deep bluish pucker underneath his collar bone. "I got it behind the barricades in Berlin in eighteen hundred and forty-eight. Langenback said it just missed the subclavian artery. And this," he went on, indicating a pair of curious elliptical scars upon his throat, "was a bite from a Sioux chief, when I was under Custer on the plains — I've got an arrow wound ou my leg from the same party. This is from a mutinous Lascar aboard ship, and the others are mere scratches— Californian vaccination marks. Yon can excuse my being a little ready with my own irons, though, when I've been dropped so often." "What's this?" I asked, pointing to a little chamois leather bag which was hung by a strong cord around his neck. "It looks like a charm." He buttoned up his tunic again hastily, looking extremely disconcerted. "It is nothing," he said brusquely. "I am a Roman Catholic, and ifc is what we call a scapular." I could hardly get another word out of him that night, and even next day he was reserved and appeared to avoid me. This little incident made me very thoughtful, the more so as I noticed shortly afterward, when standing over him, that the string was no lunger around his ueck. Apparently he had taken it off after my remark about it. What could there be in that leather bag which needed such secrecy and precaution! Had I but known it, I would sooner have put my left hand in tho fire thau have pursued that inquiry. One of the peculiarities of our visitor was that in all his plaus for the future, with which he often regaled us, he •eemed entirely uutrammeled by any monetary considerations. He would talk in the lightest and most offhand way of schemes which would involve the outlay of much wealth. My father's eyes would glisten as he heard him talk carelessly of sums which lv our frugal minds appeared enormous It .e-'med strange to both of us that a man who Ity his own confession had been a vagabond and adventurer all his life .should he in possession of such a to* tun-. My father was inclined to put it down to s-r.ne stroke of luck on the Ann in „n K'il.l fields. I had my own ideas cvia then — chaotic and half funned as yet. but tending iv the right direction. It was not long before these suspicions began to assume a more definite Bhai-e, which came about in this way. Minnie and I made the summit of the Combera cliff a favorite trystiug place, as I think I mentioned before, and it was rare for a day to pass without our spending two or

three hours there. Une morning, not long after my chat with our guest, we were seated together in a littlo nook there, which we had chosen as sheltering us from the wind as well as from my father's observation, when Minnie caught sight of Digby walking along the Carracuil beach. He sauntered up to the base of the cliff, which was bowlder studded and slimy from the receding Ude, but instead of turning back he kept on climbing over the great green slippery stones, and threading his way imiong the pools until he was standing immediately beneath us, so that we Vooked straight down at him. To him the spot must have seemed the very acme of seclusion, with the great sea in front, the rocks on each side and the precipice behind. Even had he looked up he eonld hardly have made out the two human faces which peered down at him from the distant ledge. He gave a hurried glance around, and then slipping his hand into his pocket he pulled out the leather bag which I had noticed and took out of it a small object which he held in the palm of his haud and looked at long and, as it were, lovingly. We both had au excel lent view of it from where we lay. He then replaced it in the bag, aud shoving it down to the very bottom of his pocket picked his way back more cheerily than he had come. Minnie and 1 looked at each other. She was smiling; I was serious. "Did you see it?" 1 asked. "You? Aye, I saw it," "What did you think it was, then?" "A wee bit of glass," she answered, looking at me with wondering eyes. "No," I cried excitedly, "glass could never catch the snn's rays so. It was a diamond, and, if I mistake not, one of extraordinary value. It was as large aa all I have seen put together, and must be worth a fortune." A diamond was a mere name to poor, simple Minnie, who had never seen one before, nor had any conception of their value, and she prattled away to me about this and that, but 1 hardly heard her. In vain she exhausted all her little wiles in attempting to recall my attention. My mind was full of what 1 had seen. Look where I would the glistening of the breakers, or the sparkling of the mica laden rocks, recalled the brilliant facets of the gem which I had seen. I was moody and distraught, and eventually let Minnie walk back to Corriemains by herself, while I made my way to the homesteading. My father and Digby were just sitting down to the midday meal, and the latter hailed me cheerily. "Come along mate," he cried, pushing over a stool, "we were just wondering what had become of you. Ah! yon rogue, I'll bet my bottom dollar it was that pretty wench I saw the other day that kept you." "Mind your own affairs," I answered angrily. "Don't be thin skinned," he said, "young people should control their tempers, and you've got a mighty bad one. my lad. Have you heard that lam going to leave you?" "I'm sorry to hear it," I said frankly; "when do you intend to go?" "Next week," he answered, "but don't be afraid; you'll see me again. I've had too good a time here to forget you easily. I'm going to buy a good steam yacht— 250 tons or thereabouts — and I'll bring her round in a few months and give you a cruise." "What would be a fair price for a craft of that sort?" I asked. "Forty thousand dollars," said our visitor carelessly. "You must very rich," I remarked, "to throw away so much' money on pleasure." "Rich!" echoed my companion, his southern blood mantling up for a moment. "Rich; why, man, there is hardly a limit — but there, I was romancing a bit. I'm fairly well off, or shall be very shortly." "How did you make your money?" 1 asked. The question came so glibly to my lips that 1 had no time to check it, though I felt the moment afterward that I had made a mistake. Uur guest drew himself into himself at once, and took no notice of my query, whilo my father said: "Hush, Archie laddie, ye munna speer they questions of the gentleman!" 1 could see, however, from the old man's eager gray eyes, looking out from under the great thatch of hia brows, that he was meditating over the same problem himself. During the next couple of daya 1 hesitated very often as to whether 1 should tell my father of what I had seen and the opinions I had formed about our visitor; but he forestalled me by making a discovery himself which supplemented mine and explained all that had been dark. It was one day when the stranger was out for a ramble that, entering the kitchen, I found my father sitting by the fire deeply engaged in perusing a newspaper, spelling out the words laboriously and following thy lines with his great forefinger. As 1 came in he crumpled up the paper as if his instinct were to conceal it, but then spreading ifc out again on his knee he beckoned me over to him. "Wha d'ye think this chiel Digby is?" he asked. I could sco by his manner that he was much excited. "No good," I answered. "Come here, laddie, come here!" he croaked. "You're a bravv scholar. Read this tae me alood — read ifc and tell me if you dinna think I've fitted the cap on the right heid. It's a Glasgey Herald only four days auld — a Loch Ranza feeshin boat brought it in the morn. Begin frae here — 'Uor Paris Letter.' Here it is. 'Fuller details;' read it a' to me." I began at the spot indicated, which waa a paragraph of the ordinary French correspondence of the Glasgow paper. It ran in this way: "Fuller details have now come before the public of the diamond robbery by which the Ducbesse de Rochvieille lost her celebrated gem. The diamond is a pure brilliant weighing eighty-three and one-half carats, and Js supposed to be the third largest in France and the seventeenth in Europe. It came into the possession of the family through the great-grand uncle of the duchesse, who fought under Bussy in

India, and brought it back to Europe with him. It represented a fortune then, but its value now is simply enormous. It was taken, as will be remembered, from the jewel case of the duchess two months ago during the night, and though the police have made every effort, no real clew bas been obtained as to the thief. They are. very reticent upon the subject, but it seems that they have reason to suspect one Achilla Wolff, an Americanized native of Lorraine, who had called at the chateau a short time before. He is an eccentric man, of bohemian habits, and it is just possible that his sudden disappearance at the time of the robbery may have been a coincidence. In appearance he is described as romantic looking, with an artistic face, dark eyes and hair, and a brusque manner. A large reward is offered for his capture." When I finished reading this my father and I sat looking at each other in silence for a minute or so. Then my father jerked his finger over his shoulder. "Yon's him," he said. "Yes, it must be he," I answered, thinking of the initials on the handkerchief. Again we were silent for a time. My father took one of the faggots out of the grate and twisted it ahout in his hands. "It maun be a muckle stave," he said. "He canna hae it aboot him. Likely he's left it in France." "No, he has it with him," I said, likea cursed fool as I was. "Hoo d'ye ken that?" asked -the old man, looking up quickly with eager eyes. "Because I have seen it." The faggot which he held broke in two in his grip, but he said nothing more. Shortly afterward onr guest came in, and we had dinner, but neither of us alluded to the arrival of the paper. IV.

I heard our visitor give a great scream. I have often been amused, when reading stories. told in the first person, to see how the narrator makes himself out, as a matter of course, to be a perfect and spotless man. All around may have their passions and weaknesses and vices, but he remains a cold and blameless nonentity, runuing like a colorless thread through the tangled skein of the story. I shall uot fall into this error. I see myself as I was in those days, shallow hearted, hot headed and with little principle of any kiud. Such 1 was. and such I depict myself. From the time that I finally identified our visitor Digby with Achille Wolff, the diamond robber, my resolution was taken. Some might have been squeamish iv the matter, and thought that because he had shaken their liand and broken their bread he had earned some sort of grace from them. I was not troubled with sentimentality of this sort. He was a criminal escaping from justice. Some providence had thrown him into our hands, and an enormous reward awaited his betrayers. I never hesitated for a moment as to what was to be done. The more I thought of it the more I admired the cleverness with which he had managed the whole business. Ie was clear that he had a vessel ready, manned either by confederates or by unsuspecting fishermen. Hence he would be independent of all those parts where the police would be on the lookout for him. Again, if he had made for England or for Aiuerca, he could hardly have escaped ultimate capture, but by choosing one of the most desolate and lonely spots in Europe ho had thrown them off his track for a time, while the destruction of the brig seemed to destroy the last clew to his whereabouts. At present ho was entirely at our mercy, 6ince he could not move from the islaud without our help. There was no necessity for us to hurry, therefore, and we could mature our plans at our leisure. But my father and I showed no change in our manner toward our guest, aud he himself was as cheery and light hearted as ever. It was pleasant to hear him singing as we mended the nets or calked the boat. His voice was a veiy high tenor and one of the most melodious I ever listened to. lam convinced that he could have made a name upou the operatic stage, bufc like most versatile scoundrels he placed small account upon the genuine talents which he possessed, and cultivated tho worst portion of his nature. My father used sometimes to eye him sideways in a strange manner, and I thought I knew what ho was thinking about — but there I made a mistake. One day, about a week after our conversation, I was fixing up one of the rails of our fence, which had been snapped in the gale, when my father came along the seashore, plodding heavily among the pebbles, and sat down on a stone at my elbow. I went on knocking in the nails, but looked at him frdm the corner of my eyes as he pulled away at his short black pipe. I could see that he had something weighty on his mind, for he knitted his brows and his lips projected. "D'ye mind what was in yon paper?" he said at last, knocking his ashes out against the stone. "Yes," I answered shortly. "Well, what's your opeenion?" he asked. "Why, that we should have the reward, of course!" I replied. "The reward!" he said with a fierce snarl. "You would tak' the reward. You'd let the stane that's worth thoosands an thoosands gang awa' back tae some fnrrin Papist, an a' for the sake o'

a few pund fchat they'd fling till ye, as they fling a bane to a dog when the meat's a' gone. It's a clean flingin awa o' the gifts o' Providence." "Well, father," I said, laying down the hammer, "you must be satisfied with what you can gefc. You can ouly have what is offered." "But if we got the stane itsel'," whispered my father, with a leer ou his face. "He'd never give it up," I said. "But if he deed while he's here— if he was suddenly" "Drop ifc, father, drop it!" 1 cried, for the old man looked like a fiend out of the pit. I saw now what he was aiming at. "If he deed," he shouted, "wha saw him come, and wha wad speer where he'd ganged till? If an accident happened, if he came by a dud on the heid, or woke some nicht to find a knife at his trapple, wha wad be the wiser?" "You mustn't speak so, father," I said, though I was thinking many things afc the same time. "It may as well be oot as in," he answered, and went away rather sulkily, turning around after a few yards and holding up his finger toward me to impress the necessity of caution. My father did not speak of this matter to me again, but what he said rankled in my mind. I could hardly realize that he meant his words, for he had always, as far as I knew, been an upright, righteous man, hard in his ways and grasping in his nature, bufc guiltless of any great sin. Perhaps ifc was that he was removed from temptation, for isothermal lines of crime might be drawn on the map through places where ifc is hard to walk straight, and there are others where it is as hard to fall. It was easy to be a saint in the Island of Uffa. One day we were finishing breakfast ■when our guest asked if the boat was mended (one of the tholepins had been broken). I answered that it was. "I want you two," he said, "to tako me round to Lamlash to-day. You shall have a couple of sovereigns for tho job. I don't know that I may not come back with you — but I may stay." My eyes met those of my father for a flash. "There's no' vera much wind," he said. "What there is is in the right direction," returned Digby, as I must call him. "The new foresail has no' been bent," persisted my father. "There's no use throwing difficulties in the way," said om* visitor angrily. "If you won't come, I'll get Tommy Gibbs and his father, but go I shall. Is it a bargain or not?" "I'll gang," my father replied sullenly, and went down to get the boat ready. I followed, and helped him to bend on tho new foresail. I felt nervous and excited. "What do you intend to do?" I asked. "I dinna ken," he said irritably. "Gin the worst come to the worst we can gie him up at Lamlash — bufc oh, ifc wad be a peety, an awfu' peety. You're young an strong, laddie; can we no' master him between us?" "No," I said, "I'm ready to give him up, but I'm damned if I lay a hand on him." "You're a cooardly, white livered loon!" he cried, bufc I was not to be moved by taunts; aud left him mumbling to himself and picking at the sail with nervous fingers. It was about two o'clock before tho boat was read}', bufc as there was a slight breeze from the north we reckoned on reaching Lamlash before nightfall. There was just a pleasant ripple upon the dark blue water, and as we stood on the beach before shoving off we could see the Carliu's Leap and Goatfell bathed in a purple mist, while beyond them along the horizon loomed the long line of the Argyleshiro hills. Away to the south the great bald summit of Ailsa Craig glittered in the suu, and a single white fleck showed where a fishing boat was beating up from tho Scotch coast. Digby and I steppH. into the boat, but my father ran back to wher« I had been mending the rails and came back with the hatchet in his hand, which bestowed away under tho thwarts. "What d'ye want with the ax?" our visitor asked. "It's a handy thing to hae aboot a boat," my father answered with averted eyes, and shoved us off. Wo set the foresail, jib and mainsail and shot away across the Roost, with the blue water splashing merrily under our bows. Looking back I saw the coast line of om* little island extend rapidly on either side. There was Carravoe which we had left, and our own beach of Carracuil, and the steep, brown face of the Coinbera. and away behind the rugged crests of Beg-na-phail and Beg-na-sacher I could see the red tiles of the byre of our homesteading, and across the moor a thin blue reek in the air which marked the position of Corriemains. My heart warmed toward the place which had been my home since childhood. We were about half way across the Roost when it fell a dead calm, and the sails flapped against the mast. We were perfectly motionless except for the drift of the current, which runs from north to south. I had been steering and my father managing the sails, while the stranger smoked his eternal cigarettes and admired the scenery; but at his suggestion we now got the sculls out to row. I shall never know how ifc began, but as I was stooping down to pick up an oar I heard our visitor give a great scream that he was murdered, aud looking up I saw him with his face all in a sputter of blood leaniug against the mast, while my father made at him with the hatchet. Before I could move hand or foot Digby rushed at the old man and caught him round the waist. "You gray headed devil," he cried in a husky voice, "I feel that you have done for me; but you'll never get what you want. No— never! never! never!" Nothing can ever erase from my memory the intense and concentrated malice of those words. My father gave a raucous cry, they swayed and balanced for a moment, and then over they went into the sea. I rushed to tlie side, boathook in haud, but they never came up. As the long rings caused by the

splash widened out, however, and left an unruffled space in the center, I saw them once again. The water was vory clear, and far, far down I could see fche shimmer of two white faces coming and going, faces whicii seemed to look up at me with au expression of unutterable horror. Slowly they went down, revolving in each other's embrace until they were nothing but a dark loom aud then faded from my view forever. There they shall lie, tho Frenchman and the Scot, till the great trumpet shall sound , and the sea give up its dead. Storms may rage above them and great ships labor and creak, bufc their slumber shall be dreamless and unruffled in the silent green depths of the Roost of Uffa. I trust when the great day shall come that they will bring up the cursed stone with them that they may show fche sore terap--1 tation which the devil had placed in their way as some slight extenuation of [ their errors while in this mortal flesh. It was a weary and lonesome journey back to Oarravoe. I remember tug-'-fcug-ging at the oars as though to snap them ! in trying to relieve the tension of my mind. Toward evening a breeze sprang up and helped me on my way, and before nightfall I was back in-the lonely ' homesteading once more, and all that had passed that spring afternoon lay behind me like some horrible nightmare. I did not remain in Uffa. The croft and the boat were sold by public roup in the market place of Androssau, and the sum realized was sufficient to enable me to continue my medical studies at the university. I fled from the island as from a cursed place, nor did I ever set foot on it again. ' Gibbs and his son, and. even Minnie Fullarton, too, passed out of my life completely and forever. She missed me for a time no doubt, bufc I have heard that young Mcßane, who took the farm, went a-wooing to Corriemains after the white fishing, and as he was a comely fellow ! enough he may have consoled her for 1 my loss. As for myself, I have settled quietly down into a large middle class practice in Paisley. Ifc has been in the brief intervals of professional work thar J I have jotted down these reminiscence of the events which lead up to my father's death. Achille Wolff and the ', Rochvieille diamond are things of the past now, but there may be some who , will care to hear of how they visited the Island of Uffa. — A. Conan Doyle in Temple Bar. Wages of Typesetters in Boston. In the typesetting departments of daily ' newspapers foremen's wages range from $30 to $50 per week. Assistant foremen ! receive from $25 to $32 per week. Journeymen on morning papers earu * from $20 to $30 per week, and on after noon papers from $15 to $25 per week. Boys taken as learners must be between the ages of sixteen and seventeen * years for day or night work, but in most 5 of the Boston offices they do day work J only. According to the rule of the [ printers' union, a boy may go to journey work after four years' service. The pay of a boy runs from $3 to $5 1 per week and the rate of increase from 1 $1 to $2 per week per year. Each office . has its own arrangement for learners. Girl learners are not taken in news--3 paper offices, but women who are coni- " petent compositors have situations on some of the afternoon papers. They are paid the same rates as the men, and earn 3 from $15 to $20 per week. , 1 Proofreaders for the morning papers are paid from $18 to $30 per week. In the stereotyping department of the 3 daily newspaper in Boston the men are 3 paid from $3.50 to $4 per day. Foremen 3 are paid from $5 to $6 per day. Learners are taken into the stereotyping department betweeu the ages of eighteen ' and twenty-one years. In four years 3 they are considered journeymen. — G. H. 1 Bassett in Youth's Compauiou. llow Men AVeur Tlieir Cuffs. * It is quite interesting to study the different ways men have of wearing their 1 cuffs. A certain class of men alwaya wear the largest size they can buy, and auother class gefc those but little larger than their wristbands. As a rule the small, weazen faced man wears the largest cuffs. He generally gets No. 11 and f always allows them to come down over his hands. The fat man generally wears \ small cuffs and rarely has them iv sight. Another conspicuous character 1 is the man who always keeps his little finger sprawling arouud in the attempt 3 to push his cuff up where it belongs. Examine his hand closely and you will ' find a small callous on the outer edge of , hia little finger. Why does he persist in wearing them in this way? He realizes that it looks untidy and tliat they are an 3 annoyance to him, yet you could not induce him to have his shirt sleeves made 3 any shorter or to wear sleeve supporters. '. Then again you meet the man who always wears the "cuff machine," an ingenious contrivance that attaches the cuff to the shirt sleeve and may be raised 3 or lowered at will. Nexfc comes the man 3 who saves his laundry bill by reversing 3 his cuffs, and the man who has them joined to his sleeves. — Buffalo Enquirer. ' A Squirrel Story. 3 "I've got a true squirrel story to tell 3 you," said a member of the club the other evening. "A friend of mine hay- * ing a cottage on the shore of Oneida ' lake left a cornstarch box or package in 3 the pantry. There was a little corn- ' starch remaining in it, and to secure it against mice the box was placed inside 1 of a tall pitcher having a very smooth 3 surface. My friend was at the cottage ! again a few days after, and bethought himself of the cornstarch. Upon examining to see if the mice had got at it fche box was found standing on end in ' the pitcher as left, but it was filled to 5 the brim with eweet acorn meats, all shelled and as nicely laid in as any person could have done it. ' "And nofc one was to be found in the * pitcher outside of the box. Those squir--3 rels must have expended a good deal of labor and worked faithfully to have accomplished the job in so short a time. ■ Of course the acorns were not disturbed, 3 but left for the squirrels' winter sub--3 sistence."- ~~ ""* V