LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2509, 22 April 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

THE CONSPIB&TOE'S DAUGHTER. A Tale of the Secret Societies. A Strange Room and a Straxoe Occupant. ( Continued!) And sho brought the weipon down upon his shouldera with a force whioh mnde him spring to his feet aa if he were electrified. ' Woman, I'll kill yon if you do that ag&in !' he shouted ; * I won't have thia any longer ! ' *Oh yes ycu will Joe, my man !' she retorted, as aha applied the stick in a rapid and bewildering manner to his legs nntil ho was compalled to He down with his face to the ground from sheer exhaustion. This ws 8 the right and proper attitude which he always assumed on such occasions, and Mrs Dubois proceeded to give him a sound thrashing. ' You'vo been getting headstrong of 'ate Joe, my man, and it won't do,' she explained, emphasising the salient in her argument with blows; 'if yon don't give up that wretch Samoiodes, I'll have to give you up; and jußt think what a dreadful thing that would be for you, my good man ! Nobody to keep you straight!'—(a dreadful'y vicious blow to illustrate this statemeat) —'nobody to see that you don't make a fool of yourself more than you can—nobody to look after your little comforts !' And by way of pathos she gave him a smart lap on the knuckles, which galvanised hlB whole frame. 'P. mmiao me not to go to thin ommiiteo of youra again ? Do you hear Joe, my man ? Do you hear ?'

* >o,' was the feeble answer. ' You don't Joe ? Then we mast go over the whole lesson again, from the very beginning. <You won't promise not to go there again ? ' And she recommenced her efforts except that this time she dropped the blows all over his body with akaoat scientific precision and emphasis. Mrs Dubois was a woman of experience. fn more than one sense it might be said of her that she knew a man's weak points.

' Yon won't promise T Oh no! You are an obstinate, pigheaded obstropulonc ' ' sTes, yes; I'll promise. Murder! Let me get np ; do, there's a dear ! I'll promise —there ! Oh, don't.'

And, after a few finishing touches in her bent style, the wife of his bosom picked the wretched man up, and Bet him again in the ohair.

* Now, sir, I want to know ' ' Where's my supper ?' he asked, irrelevantly.

'You can't hive any,' was the Inflexible answer; • yon don't deserve any. Tarn out yoar poet eta, my man !' He did so without a mnrmnr. There was about ten shillings left, which bis wife put aw«,y. Several halfpence rolled away under the furniture, but Dublos made no effort to recover them. He dreaded the possible consequences. 'And what have you been doing down there to.night, eh ?' she continued with no diminution of sternness; ' who have vou been plotting against this time, Joa? You ate never going thsre again, you know—if you do '—and she indulged in a small pantomiue to show what would follow—- * and so you duj as well tell me. You must tell me I*

Pantomime repeated more vigorously than before. Dubois was In the last stage cf collapse by th's time. ' Karl «—' he b 'gan, and then he stopped. He was not reduced to such a pulp but that ho knew the consequences of divulging the secrets of his companions. ' Oh, the carpenter, was it ?' hia wife said; 'well, what of him? Go on. Don't be af.aid ; it's only your po r injured wife, you know. Go on, Joe, my m»n.' ' I mrstn't, ma clttre —on my honor, I I mustn't!' he pleaded. well, then; I'll have to do the masher business, then, once moro—though why you should throw it in my teeth I don t koow. It's all for your good—nothing else '

And the stick wai produced again, and piled thia time with Buch terrible i-ffeot that the wretched, tortured man at last made a clean breast of the whole conspiracy. Mrs Joe, as her neighbors called her, wai horrilied. A serpent had indeed entered the Garden of Eden, and the reptile waa her husband. She seized at once upon the paint? of resemblance between him and the departed one who fought the Royal Irish Constabulary. History repeats itself. Perhaps Dubois would be shot, or, worse still, hanged. She allowed him to arrange his ashing bonea in bed, nnd then she resolved to tell Martha tho whole story next morning. In her own rough way Bhe dearly loved Emmanuel's beautiful daughter, and she knew of the lovo passages which had taken p'ace between her and Uhevlin. The Irishwoman's sympathies were entirely with the young people, and ahe vowed that Samoiedes should be repaid for his atrocious treaohory. .Next morning came. It was Sunday, and Johnson street was tolerably quiet, not to say dull, as befits the day. Bhe rose about nine o'clock, and made her breakfast. Bet husband was sleeping heavily, and she knew that he waa likely to continue in that oblivious mood far some hours longer. So about ten o'clock she went round to Emmanuel's Bhop. The old man was still in bed, and Martha was busily engaged in the shop. Cuatim was plentiful, if not very profitable; but there was a restless, anxious 1 >ok In the dark eyes, and a touch almost of haggardness in her queenly face. In five minutea she knew all. Mrs Joa knew how to concentrate h.-r thoughts in short pungent sentences—a gift bora of long husband-beating ; and tho horrified girl, in the intervals of serving her customers, was made acquainted with the plot against the msn she loved. She made little or no comment, however, upoa the narration She was busy, and she was strongly agitated. Mrs Jos took in the situation at a glance. 1 You can get him out of the sorapg, Martha, my de»r—l know you can, for you are a clever body,' she said, by way of farewell j 'and if I can help you, I will. I'll beat Joe every night for a waek if it'll do any good.' And with thia burst of generosity she went home to look after her victim. It waa a long and miserable day, Martba waa to meet her lover at seven that evening ; but until then nine hours intervened. Nine hours! They almost seemed nine eternities to her feverish impatience. But tho hour came at last, and she uped away, leaving the old man asleep in his chair before the fire. It was raining heavily; but she only drew her oloak the tighter round her, a> d through the mud and the jostling crowds she hastened until, in the Victoria Park, she suddenly ran almost into the arms of her betrothed.

•Karl,' she said, as she clung to bis arm, 'yon are a bad wicked man ' 'Am 1 V he tail, with a pad smile, as he looked down into the flashed, excited faca which was turned towards his

• Yes ; a bad, wicked man, Karl—for you are going to shoot the Kuasian, Count Zauooff,' Bhe replied ia a low, quivering voice. He stopped short, and took both her hands in his own.

'My darling,' he said, ' who told you this V

•Nevfr mind who told me, Karl,' Bhe answered; ' I know more of this afMr than do. You do not know that M. Zaneoff never misses an assailant, and that a score of his would-be assassins have fallen at his hands. You never guessed that Samoiedea had pressed my father to compel me to marry him—the ugly wretch I —in three weeks at the latest; nor did yon dream that every paper last night except the one which you took last of all was marked with a seo-t't aign. No, my poor boy, you never guefsed anything of this. And yet it Is all true, every word of it.' flow could ho doubt it The whole plot was obvious the moment he was furnished with the key—Samoiedes' proposal to marry Martha. It was as plain as daylight. 1 What shall we do, Karl?' ahe asked ; 'of coarse you mcaa't kill this man or lit him kill you. You were very wicked to think of such a thiDg; and, Karl—l mu-1 say it—you must promise to have nothing to do with these men in future, or—l wlil give you up,' Khe meant it. A glanoe at the stroDg resolve depicted In her face showed him that. She would throw him over unless he abandoned his evil atsooi&tea. And Martha was right. He felt that she was entirely and absolutely right. • My angel! My preserver I' he said, with deep and passionate utterance. ' For a long time I have yearned to cut myself free from

these men, but how can I ? Tell me, wise little darling, how can IT If I denounce Samoiedes to tho police I ahonld perish in any case; and who could prove anything against him ? £nd if I refuse to earry out this wickedness I have no chance of lite except in flight, although I was chieen for the wcrk by foul meaup. 1 must run away to save myeelf or oie here. And if Igo away when Bhall I see you again, my darling!' « When, indeed ? Little did tbey heed the email deluge whioh fe'l upon taem as they walkod up and down contomplatra.; this dreadful problem. For there is toroethlng worse than a love which is buried in somebody's grave. It ia a living love which is sundered in twain by relentless fate. It was getting late, and no light had they to guide them in their perplexity. It was necessary that ehe should return home. At the door of Kmmanuel's abode they parted, and not till then did Martha breathe words of hope. 'Do nothing, Karl, until you hear from me," was her solemn injunction. 'I do not know what ought to be done, but I will save jou somehow. Trust in me, and learn tho fifth commandment when you go home.'

It was bravo'jr spoken, but csrtainly the prospect was as little encouraging as it oou'd woll be.

Of the power cf the secret committee to whioh Karl unhappily belonged there was l<o rosm fur doubt Martha had seen and hemd enough from her father to be sure that Samoiedes had the means of revenge in his hands if he chose to use them in case Kail failed to attempt the ommission imp 'sed upon him. f*he cou'd see but one way of escape, and that depended upon M. Zinooff. She went to see him one afternoon, leaving her father to doze in the shop, merelp telling him that she wished to be absent for three hours. asked no questions. He was in his dotage, and enj >yed nothing so much as to bo lsf c alone, Bhe had learned from Ka-1 where the Count was to be found, sad she had no difficulty in being admitted into his> presence. He was smoking a huge oigar when she entered, which he immediately put aside, and placed a chair for his fair visitor.

*To what am I indebted for the honour of this visit?' he asked in English. He seemed to be a cool, pleasant and extremely polite gentleman, this doomed victim of the secret committee.

•To a desire tir, to eave from destruction one who Is very dear to me,' she answered, nervously. • 80 ? a brother perhaps ? ' he suggested. ' No. My affianoed husband,' she answered simply. The Count sat down, and smiled bene, volently. Martha shuddered, as she remembered that this man's myrmidons had slaughtered her mother. Nothing less than Karl's imperillod life could have brought her into his presence. 4 Explain, if you please,' he ta'd, kindly and gently. ' You commanded the troops, sir, who burned a Polish village named Kasan many years ago,' she said ; and she observed tho hot blush of shame which rose to his countenance. 'Among the unhappy ones who died there was my mother—and yet I, htr ohild, am here to plead with you for help and for meroy.' 'You shall have both, lady, if they lie within my power,' he said, most earnestly. 'lt appears, s!r, th»t you have incurred the hatred of many secret societies, here and elsewhere. It is not far me, M. lo Oomte, to say with how much reason and justice. Among them is a body In this city, presided over by a man named Samoiedes. Ah ! yon know that name?'

'I know » great many names,' he said* caldly ; 'pri.y proceed with your story.' *By these men you have been sentenced to death,' nho continued ' and an attempt upon your life was to have been made this week by a yonng German named Karl Shevlin. It is for him I plead.' ' What do you wish me to do ? Allow him to shoft me V he laughed. (To be continued)