LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2600, 7 August 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

A VERY CURIOUS EXPERIENCE. BT MARK TWAIS. ( Continued .) A telegram now came from the Secretary of War. It read as follows ; 4 Suspend habeas corpus. Put town under martial law. Make necessary arrests. Act with vigor end promptness. Keep the department informed.' We were now in sh;pi to go to work, I sent out and had the lame gentleman quietly arreitei and as quietly brought Into fort; I placed him nnder gnatd, and forbade speech to him or from him. He was inclined to blaster at first, but he soon drooped that. Next came word that Wicklow had been seen to give something to a couple of our new recruits; and that,' as soon aa his back was turned, these had been seized and confined. Upon each was found a small bit of paper, bearing these words and signs In pencil—- * Eagle's Third Flight. Remember XXXX, 166,'

In accordance with Instructions, I telegraphed to the department in cipher, the progress made, and also described the above ticket. We seemed to be In a strong enough position now to venture to throw off the m*ak aa regarded Wloklow; so I sent for him. I also sent for and received back the letter written in sympathetic ink, the surgeon accompanying It with the information that thus far it bad resisted hie teats, bat that there were others he could apply when I should be ready for him to do so. Presently Wicklow catered. He had a somewhat worn »nd anxious look, but he was o imposed and easy, and if he su s p3oted anything it did not appear In hla faoe or manner. I allowed him to stand there a moment or two, then I said, pleasantly— *My boy, why do you go to the old stable so much ?’

He answered with a simple demeanour and without embarrassment—

* Well, I hardly know, sir ; there Isn’t any particular reason, except that I like to be alone, and I amuse myself there.’ * You amuse yourself there, do yon P’ ‘Yes, sir,’ he replied, as Innocently and simply as before. 'ls that all you do there V ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, looking up with childlike wonderment in his big soft eyes. ‘ Yon are sure ?’ ‘Yes, elr, sure.' Afser a pause, I said—‘Wicklow, why do yon write so much ?’ ‘I ? Ido not write much, sir ?' ‘ Yon don’t ?’ ‘ No, sir. Oh, if you mean scribbling, I do scribble some, for amusement. ’ * Wbat do you do with your aaribV lings P’ * Nothing, Hr; throw them away,’ ‘Never send them to anybody?’ * No, sir.' I suddenly thrust before him the Liter to the ‘ Colonel.'

He started slightly, but immediately crniposed himself. A slight tinge spread itself over fcis cheek.

‘How came you to send this piecs of scribbling, then ?’ ‘ I nev-never meant any harm, sir.’ ‘Never meant any harm. You betray the armament and condition of the post, and mean no harm by it ?’ He hung his head and was silent, ‘ Oome, speak up, and stop lying. Whom was this letter intended for P’

•Ha showed s ! gns of distress, now; but quickly collected himself, and replied, in a tone of deep earnestness—- ‘ I will tell you the truth, sir—the whole truth. The letter was never intended for anybody at a'l. I wrote it only to amuse myself. I see the error and foolishness of it, now—but it is the only offence, sir, upon my honour.’

‘ Ah, I am glad of that. It ia dangerous to be writing such letters. I hope you are sure this ia tfco only one yon wrote '

‘ Yes, sir, perfectly cure.’ His hardihood was stapling. He told that lie with as sincere a countenance aa any creature ever wore. I waited a moment to soothe down my rising temper, and then said—

‘Wicklow, jog your memory now, and see If yon can help me with two or three little matters which 1 wish to inquire about.’ * I will do my very beat, sir.’ ‘Then, to begin with—who is “the master P” ’

It betrayed him Into darting a startled glance at our faces —but that was all. He was serene again in a moment, and tranquilly answered—- * I do not know, sir * ‘ You do not know ?’ * I do not kcow.’ * You are sure you do not know ?’ Ho tried hard to keep hia eyes on mine, but the strain was too great; the chin sunk slowly towards hla breast and he was silent; he stood there nervously fumbling with a button, an object to command one’s pity, In spite ol his base acts. Presently I broke the stillness with the question, ‘ Who are the Holy Alliance ?* His body shook visibly, and he made a slight random gesture with ills hands, which to me was like the appeal of a despairing

creature for compassion. But ho mode no sound. He continued to stand with hla face bent towards the ground. As we sat gt-zing at him, waiting for him to speak, we saw tho big tears begin to roll down his cheeks. But he remained silent. After a little I said, ’You must answer me, my boy —and you mud toil me the truth. Who are the Holy Alliance?' He wept on in silence. Presently I said, somewhat sharply, ‘Answer the question 1’ Be struggled to get command of his voice 5 and then, looking up appealingly, forced the words out between his sobs, * Oh, have pity on me, air, I cannot answer it, for Ido not know.’ * What!’

* Indeed, sir, I am telling the trnth. I never have heard of the Holy Alliance till this moment. On my honor, sir, this is so.’ * Good heavens ! Look at this second letter of yours ; there, do yon see those words “Holy Alliance?" Wiiat do you say now ?' He gazed up into my face with the hurt look of one upon whom a great wrong _ has been wrought, then said, feelingly—' This la some cruel joke, sir 5 and how could they play it upon me, who have tried all I could to do right, and have never done harm to anybody ? Some one has counterfeited my hand ; 1 never wrote a Hue of this; I have never seen this letter before 1’

* Oh, yon unspeakable liar ! Hero, what do you say to this?’—and I snatched the sympathetic-ink letter from my pocket and throat It beiore his eyes. His face tamed white—as white_ as a dead person’s He wavered slightly in hia traeka, and put his hand against the wall to steady himself. After a moment ha naked, in so faint a voice that it was hardly audible, • Have yen—read it ?’ Oar faces must have answered the truth before my lips could get out the false ‘ Yes, ’ for I distinctly saw the courage come back Into that boy’s eyes I waited for him to say something, bat he kept silent. So at last I said—

‘ Well, what have you to say es to the revelations in this letter?’

He answered with perfect composn e—‘Nothing, except that they are entirely harmless and incorrect; they can hart nobody.’ I was in something of a corner now, as I couldn’t disprove hia assertion. I did not know exactly how to proceed. However, an idea came to my relief, and I said—- • Yon are sure you know nothing about the Master and the Holy Alliance, and did not write the letter which you say is a forgery ?’

‘ Yes, sir—sure.’ I slowly drew out the knotted twine string, and held It up without speaking, He gaze at it Indifferently, then looked at me inquiringly. My pat'enca was sorely taxod. However, I kept my temper down, and said, in my usual voice—‘Wicklow, do you see this ?’ * Yea, sir,’ * What is it V •It seems to bo a piece of string.’ * Seems ? It is a piece of string. Do you recognise it ?’ ‘No, sir,’ he replied as calmly as the words could be uttered.

His coolness was perfectly wonderful I I paused now for several seconds, in order that rhe silence might add impressiveness to what I was about to say ; then I rose and laid my hand on his shoulder, and said, gravely—‘lt will do you no good, poor boy, none in the world. This sign to the ‘Master,’ this knotted string fonnd in one of the guns on the water-front—— 1 ’

* Fonnd in the gun ! Oh, no no ?do not say In the gun, but In a crack In the tompion I —it mast have b-en In the crack !’ and down ha went on his knees and clasped bis hands and lifted up a face that was pitiful to see, so ashy it was, and so wild with terror.

‘ No, It was in the gun.’ ‘Oh, something has gone wrong! My God, I am lost!’ and he sprang np and darted this way and that, dodging the hands that were pat oat to oatoh him, and doing his best !o escape from the place. But of course escape was impossible. Then ho flung himself on his knees egain, crying with all his might, and clasped me around the legs ; and so he clung to mo and begged and pleaded, sayirg, * Oh, have pity on me ! Oh. be merciful to me 1 Do not betray me j they would not spa e my life a moment 1 Protect me, save me. I will confess everything !’ It took us some time to qnleten him down and modify his fright, and get him Into something like a rational frama of mind. Then 1 bogsn to question h'm, bo answering humbly, with downcast eyes, and from time to lime swabbing away his constantly flowing tears. * So you are at heart a rebel ?’ ‘Yes, sir.' ‘And a spy?’ ‘ Yes, sir.’ * And have been acting under distinct orders from outside ?' ‘Yes, sir.’ * Willingly ?’ “Yes, sir.’

‘ Gladly, perhaps ?’ ‘ Yes, sir ; it would do no good to deny ItThe South is my country; my heart is Southern, and It 1s all in her cause. ’ ‘ Then the tale you told me of yonr wrongs and the persecution of yonr family was made np for the occasion ?’ ‘ They—they told me to say it, sir.’ ‘ And you would betray and destroy those who pitied and sheltered you ; do you comprehend how base you are, you poor misguided thing ?’ He replied with sobs only. ‘ Well, let that pass ; to business ; who Is the ‘colonel,’ and where is he?’ He began to cry hard, and tried to beg off from answering. He said he would be killed if he told. 1 threatened to put him in the dark cell and lock him np if he did not oome out with the information. At last I started with him ; bat a single glance Into the dark cell converted him. ffo broke Into a passion of weeping and supplicating, and declared he would ttll everything. So I brought him back, and he named the ‘ colonel,' and described him particularly. Said he would be found at the prinoipal hotel in the town, In citizen's dress, I had to threaten him again before he would describe and name the ‘master.; Said the master would be fonnd at No. 16, Bond street, Now York, passing nnder the name of R. F. Gaylord. I telegraphed name and description to the chief of police of the metropolis, and asked that Gayford be arrested and held till I conld send for him.

‘Now,’ said I, ‘lt seems that there are several of the conspirators “outside ”—presumably in New London ; name and describe them.’ He named and des rlbed three men and two women—all stopping at the principal hotel. I sent ont quietly, and had them and the ‘colonel ’ arrested and confined in the fort.

‘ Next, I want to know all about your three fellow-conspirators who are here in the fort.’

He was about to dodge mo with a falsehood, I thought; but I produced the mystoricua bits of paper which had been found upon two of them, and this had a salutary effect upon him. I said we bad po?sesrion of two of the men, and he mast point out the third. This frightened him badly, and he cried out —‘Oh, please don’t make me—he would kill me on the spot.’ I said that was all nonsense ; I would have somebody near by to protect him, and, besides, the men should be assembled without arms. I ordered all the raw reciuits to bo mustered, and then the poor trembling tittle wretch went ont and -stepped along down the line, trying to look as indifferent as poßsib'e. Finally he spoke a single word to one of the men, and before he had gone five steps the man was nnder arrest. As soon as Wicklow was with us again, I had these three men brought in. I made one of them stand forward, and said : ‘ Now, Wicklow, mind, not a shade’s divergence from the exact trnth; who ia this man, and what do yon know abcut him ? Baing 'in for it’ he cast consequences aside, fastened his eyes on the man’s face, and spike straight along without hesitation, to the following effect * His real name is George Bristow; he is from New Orleans ; was second mate of the ooaat packet Capitol, two years ago; is a desperate character, and has served two terms for manslaughter—one for killing a deck-hand named Hyde with a capstan-bar, and one for killing a roustabout for refusing to heave the lead—which is no part of a roustabout's business ; he is a spy, and was sent here by the colonel to act in that capacity ; ha was third mate of the St. Nicholas when she blew np in the neighborhood of Memphis, in 'SB, and came near being lynched for robbing the dead and wounded while they were being taken adiore In an empty wood-boat.’

And to forth and so on—he gave the man’s biography In fall, When he had finished, I said to the man—- * What have yon to say to this.?’ * Barring your presence, sir, it is the infernalest lie that ever was spoke 1’ I sent him hack Into confinement, and called the others forward in tnrn. Same result. _ The boy gave a detailed history of each, without ever hesitating for a word or a fact; but all I coaid get out of either rascal was the Indignant assertion that it was all a lie. They would confess nothing I returned them to captivity, and brought out tho rest of my prisoners, one by one. Wicklow told all abont them—what towns in the South they were from, and every detail of their connection with the conspiracy. Bat they all denied his facts, and not one of them confessed a thing. The men raged, the women cried. According to the’r stories they were all innocent people from out West and loved the Union above all things in the world. 1 looked the gang up in disgnst, and fell to oateohlsing Wick, low once more. • Where is No. 165, and who is B. B. ?' But there he was determined to draw the line. . Neither coaxing nor threats had any effect upon h’m Time was flying—it was neoefsary to ios.itute sharp measures. So I tied him up a tiptoe by the thumbs. Ab the pain increased it wrung screams from him which were almost more than I could bear. But I held my ground, and pretty soon he shrieked out—‘Oh, please lot mo down, and I wll tell !’ ‘ No—you’ll tell before I let you down.’ Every instant was agony to him, now, so out it came—‘No. 166, Eagle Hotel!’ naming a wretched tavern down by the water, a resort of common laborers, ’longshoremen, and less reputable folk. ho I released him, and then demanded to knew the object of the conspiracy. ‘To take the fort to-night,’ said he, doggedly, and sobbing. ‘Hava 1 got all the chiefs of tho conspiracy ?’ • Ko. You’ve got all except those that are to meet at 166.’ ‘ What does ‘Remember ‘XXXX’ mean?’ No reply. ‘ Whit is the paes word to No. 168 ?’ No reply, ‘ What do those bunches of letters moan—- ‘ F&FSF’ and ‘MM Mil ?’ Answer I or you will catch it again.’ ‘ I never wl 1 answer ! I wili die first Now do what yon please,’ •Think what vou are saying, Wicklow. Is it final ?’

Ho answered steadily, and without a quiver in his voice— 4 It is final. As sure as I love my wronged country and hate everything this Northern sun shines on, I will die before I will reveal those things,’ (To be continued,')