The Cardiff Times

CHAPTER XI. Miss Lamotte. During that day the proceedings at the black, house in Harley-street had been somewhat irre- gular and out of the common. First of all, Dr. Van Mildart had gone away in a hansom very early in the morning, leaving no word as to his return. Then Miss Lamotte, after receiving patients up to twelve o'clock, had peremptorily instructed Pimpery to inform any further callers that she could see no one else that day, and had gone out and remained out until nearly dinner-time in the evening- In the meantime Dr. Van Mildart had returned to the house about two o'clock, and was eating a hasty lunch when Mr Christopher Aspinall called. A little later the doctor and Mr Aspinall went away to- gether in a hansom, the former leaving a mes- sage with Pimpery to the effect that he mijtiit not be in until very late that evening, and thSt Miss Lamotte was not to wait dinner for him. Such of Dr. Van Mildart's and Miss Lamotte's patients as turned up at the house during the afternoon had to go away disappointed there was usually quite a crowd between four o'clock and six, and Pimpery, who was obliged to attend to the door now that Service was dead, had a busy time in sending people away. Then. close upon dinner-time. Miss Lamotte returned and said that two gentlemen were coming to dinner—a matter which only troubled Pimpery in so far as that he would have to do all the waiting himself. It made no difference to Miss Lamotte as regards this arrangement to hear that Dr. Van Mildart might not be at home she had the free run of the house, and it was an understood thing between her and its master that she should invite her own friends there whenever she liked to do so. Van Mildart's table was always lavishly spread—it made little difference if half a dozen unexpected guests came to it. Anyone who had spent that particular day with Miss Lamotte would have had ample op- portunity for feeling amazed, puzzled, curious and doubtful as to what that lady was really about. Her movements, actions, doings were all more than a little mysterious. When she rose in the morning she made a more than usually elaborate toilette of the going-out-order, and she went down to breakfast in her hat. At ten o'clock came the first of the small army of cal- lers by appointment the second arrived at a quarter past: the third at half-past, and so on until at a quarter to twelve arrived a patient who Pimpery had never seen before, and whose Dame as given on her beautifully engraved card was Miss Susan Dalrymple. Miss Dalrymple was shown into Miss Lamotte's room at once the previous taker-up of her time had been shown out a good five mintutes previously. Whether Pimpery observed it or not, and most people who looked at him would have sworn a solemn oath that they believed him incapable of observing anything—Miss Dalrymple cer- tainly did not look like one who suffers; she was a very pretty little woman, with smiling eyes, and an arch expression, dressed in the height of fashion, and altogether a very bright and gay butterfly to flutter into a doctor's con- salting room. There was a formal and cere- monious greeting between her and Miss La- motte as they met, but when Pimpery had closed the door—which like all the doors in that part of Dr. Van Mildart's house was so contrived as to be quite sound proof—the con- versation between the two ladies became un- ceremonious, not to say curt and sharp. Well ?" said Miss Lamotte. Miss Dalrymple, still arch and smiling, pro- duced a sealed note from some invisible recep- tacle, and handed it over. This," she said. Miss Lamotte took the note—which anyone who could have read irfc over her shoulder would have seen to be in cypher—glanced it through. and then, lighting a taper which stood on her eminently business-like looking desk, burnt it to ashes, which she thoughtfully pounded into fine dust with the end of an ebony ruler. I think that's all right," she said presently, having considered whatever the contents of the note were in silence. To-day, then ?" said Miss Dalrymple. To-night," replied Miss Lamotte. Of course, I don't want to risk anything." Sure said Miss Dalrymple. "And that's why I want to complete the final arrangements myself," continued Miss Lamotte. "After all I've done, I'm not going to let things end in a mess at the end just for the want of »Jittle extra care." Of course," agreed Miss Dalrymple. She traeed an imaginary pattern onthe -carpet with the point of her dainty shoe, and then nodded her head towards the door. That-him?" she asked laconically. Urn," said Miss Lamotte. Before my time, of course," said Miss Dal- rymple. Good tosremenaber, though,I should think." Wasn't shaven in those days," said Miss La motte. clear enough, his affair. Nothing to the other." Any message, then.?" inquired Miss Dal- rymple. Yes,—say I'm in hand with everything for to-night, and that rll call in during the after- noon. I shall want to see the chief, mind," said Miss Lamotte. Oh, of course," replied Miss Dalrymple. Bye Bye!" said Miss Lamotte, and rang the bell for Pimpery. She rang it again two minutes later. Pimpery," she said, I am obliged to go out to a serious case, and I may not return for some hours. You must refuse all further callersLI do not know when Dr. Van Mildart will be in." Very good, madam," replied Pimpery. U Will you have the brougham ?" No, thanks," said Miss Lamotte, I'm going round to the chemist's in New Caven- dish-street. I'll get a hansom there." A few minutes later, Miss Lamotte left the house. She certainly went into New Cavendish- street, and made a brief call at the chemist's shop but after that she walked some little dis- tance in the direction of Oxford-street before the took a cab. And in the meantime calling in at a little frowsy shop in a side street, a shop wherein all sorts of odds and ends were sold— bits of old china and brass, dull pewter and faked engravings, second-hand books and dubious knick-knacks. She asked for and re- ceived two letters which were most certainly not addressed to her in the name by which she was known in Harley-street. Miss Lamotte's movements during the remain- derof the day. were to say the least of them, Somewhat erratic and peculiar. Arriving in Oxford Circus, she chartered a hansom cab, and told the driver to take her to Westminster Abbey. Arriving there, she strolled about the# cloisters for a little while, with the air of one' who meditates amongst the tombs, but even- tually went away down Victoria-street, where she disappeared within the doors of the office of the American Embassy. Coming away from this place an hour later, she walled across to the St. James's Park Station, where she took train to the Mansion House. It was just their luncheon hour in the City and the streets were swarming with men and youths. Miss Lamotte in her smart West End toilett and picture hat, all unconcerned at the admiration which she occasioned, made her way through the crowds until she came to a certain court, opening out of Threadneedle-street, within the cool shade of which she was lost to sight for some little time. When she emerged upon the street again it was in the company of a gentleman who was very immaculately hatted, garmented, and booted; with him Miss Lamotte entered an open taximeter cab, and drove to the Savoy Hotel, where they lunched together in a shady corner of the balcony overlooking the river. They spent a long time over lunch and over the coffee and liqueurs which followed it, and they were engaged from first to last in very earnest and apparently extremely confidential conv ersation. From the Savoy Hotel Miss Lamotte and her companion proceeded-this time in a cl06ed carriage—to a certain department of Scotland Yard, where they were both lost to view for a considerable part of the afternoon. When Miss Lamotte went away, it was by herself, and she took a hansom on the embankment and drove to Bond-street, where she refreshed herself with tea and cakes at a fashionable establish- ment much in favour with ladies, and amused her mind—tired, no doubt, by a long day of business—in watching the people about her. Then she went for a drive in the Park, and thought everything was very hot and dusty, and that it was time the long-spun season came to an end. And finally she returned to Harlev- street, and as she passed through the hall in- formed the butler that there would be two guests to dinner that evening. It was then past seven o'clock, and at eight Miss Lamotte, who had made a very simple toilette, came downstairs and passed into the library. The guests arrived—two finely set up men, one bearded, the other clean-shaven, big enough for the Household Cavalry, and bronzed as with much travel. Pimpery took their light overcoats, and showed them in to Miss Lamotte, who already was very well aware that Dr. Van Mildart would not be in that Even- ing, nor until well after midnight. They seemed pleasant gentlemen, he thought, as he waited upon them at dinner—scientific gentlemen who had travelled in some out-of-the-way places of the earth and seen a good deal. They, and Miss Lamotte too, dined very well indeed, and the gentlemen praised the wine and regretted Dr. Van Mildart's absence. Miss Lamotte and her two friends went into the smoking-room after they had dined, and Pimpery took coffee, and liqueurs, and cigars and cigarettes there. Miss Lamotte sat in an easy chair near the table on which the butler was arranging these matters the clean-shaven gentleman occupied a lounge near her the bearded gentleman was strolling casually around the room, inspecting the pictures he 1 got between Pimpery and the door. Pimpery presently turned round to hand him a cup of coffee; the cup fell from his hand with a crash. Two yards away from him stood the bearded gentleman, presenting a very wicked-looking revolver down the barrel of which the butler looked with horror-stricken eyes. Put your hands up, my man!" said the bearded gentleman, quietly. Pimpery's hands trembling as with a sudqen attack of ague went up above his head. He stared at his captor as if he were fascinated. The man with the revolver smiled. Not the first time he's thrown 'em up, I guess !"he said. Go through him, Jim." The clean-shaven gentleman rose from the lounge and wont through the butler's pockets, now shaking like an aspen leaf,in a very know- ing and professional way. He turned out liis pockets, lie ran his hands over his clothes. While this was going on the bearded person kept Pimpery covered with the revolver. As for Miss Lamotte, instead of betraying any surprise, she took up her coffee cup and calmly sipped its contents. That's all right," announced the man named Jim. The other man dropped his revolver and slid it lightly into his hip-pocket. He pointed to a chair, nodding his head at Pimpery. Sit down," he commanded. I Pimpery dropped into the chair.. It was evident that his nerve was gone his face was becoming ghastly. The bearded man picked up a decanter of brandy, smelled it, and poured out a small glassful. He put it into the butler's shaking hand. Drink that he said, sharply. Down with it." Pimpery drank and swallowed some colour came back to his cheek, but the fear on his face was dreadful to see. He looked from one to the other of the three faces before him, pretty much as a rabbit might look when put into the cage of three hungry snakes. The man with the beard turned a little aside —a deft movement removed his beard and whiskers. He turned, smiled sardonically, thrusting his face into Pimpery's full view. Pimpery screamed-as a rabbit would scream at the snakes' approach. The two men laughed; Miss Lamotte, sipping her coffee, smiled. Mr Macnaughten exclaimed Pimpery, as the scream died out. Mr Macnaughten laughed once more. He took up his coffee, sipped it, set it down again,'and choosing a cigar, lighted it and smoked wifh great satisfaction. Quite right, my man," he said. I knew we should meet again." He turned to Miss Lamotte. This is the man, right enough," he went on. Phineas Thomson, sentenced to death for murder five years ago escaped from Sing Sing while awaiting execution. Previous to that little affair one of the cleverest forgers in the. States. That's a truthful statement, isn't it, Thompson ?" Yes, sir," answered the captive. It's— true. But it wasn't murder, Mr Macnaughten- —upon my soul, it wasn't. He'd have killed me if I hadn't killed him." At the little shop she received two letters. I Very likely," said Macnaughten, drily. However, we aren't concerned about that. Now look here, my friend-we might be able to do a bit for you when we get you across. That is, if you do a bit for us. We want you to tell us all you know about this master of vours, Van Mildart. It was he planned your escape from Sing Sing, eh ?" Over the ci-devant Pimpery's ashen face came a sudden change. His dead eyes assumed a terrible expression they seemed to fill with blood and fire and his arms and hands became so agitated that both detectives tightened themselves up as if they expected an attack. Curse him the man burst out in an ex- plosion of rage, which was all the more violent because it had been so long bottled up. Curse him I-yes, he did manage my escape I wish he'd left me where I was—I'd rather have gone to the chair than to have gone through all that he's put on me. I've lived a living death here —and worse." Then he's—eh ?" said Macnaughten signi- ficantly. Here-take a drop more brandy." Thompson, no longer Pimpery, sipped the amber-tinted liquid gratefully. He looked round him and smiled a little. His glance rested on Miss Lamotte, and he nodded to her. I'd an idea that you were after something, miss," he said, his smile broadening. But I'm such a fool that I never thought it was me. I thought it was-him." I am after him," said Miss Lamotte. Do as Mr Macnaughten tells you-let us know what you know, and it will be the better for you." Thompson shook his head. That's a big order, miss." te said. '-He's the cleverest scoundrel I ever came across, and I've known some. But he keeps things to him- self—you'll have hard work to circumvent him. He got me out of Sing Sing, that's true, and I wondered why at the time until I found that he wanted to make use of me. As Mr Mac- naughten there says I'm a clever hand with the pen, and have done a good many jobs for him. You see, I'm under his thumb. But I cuuld have forgiven him that if he hadn't experi- mented on me." Experimented on you. What do you mpan ?" asked Miss Lamotte. It was before you came, miss," replied Thompson. "He gave me malarial fever once, and yellow fever another time-just to study the progress of the disease. And he's tried drugs on me a hundred times. Devil ?—he's worse 11 Now then, look here," said Macnaughten, do you think he's anything to do with these recent jewel robberies t—several of them have been from his patients," Drink that," he said, sharply. J Thompson shook his head knowingty. I haven't a doubt of it, Mr Macnaughten," he answered. He's the cleverest hypnotist living-it's my belief he just hypnotised these women into handing their jewels over. But I don't know any more. That poor lad, Service, was trying to find out, though—I know that much. And it's my belief that he murdered Service the other night." Murdered him Um said Macnaughten. Well, I don't see how that can be. The inquest's been held to-day, and the doctors all agreed that it was a natural death." Thompson smiled—the unpleasant smile of one who believes he knows. He's clever enough to outwit any doctors," he said. Or coroners either. I do know this- we caught Service coming back from the house next door that night, and whether he found out that he'd better silence him at once, or what it was, I don't know, but Service was dead next morning. And there was nothing wrong with him the night before." f Miss Lamotte and the two detectives looked at each other. After a moment's silence Miss Lamotte spbke. Look here, Thomson, do you know anv- thing as to where he goes when he's out at night ?" she asked. It's commonly supposed that you never go out, but I know you have been out-after him." Thomson smiled at her admiringly. That's clever of you, miss he said. It is, indeed. Yes, I have tried to track him, but never with success. He was always too clever, too slippery for me." Do you think he ever knew you did folio 3 him ?" asked Miss Lamotte. Thomson shook his head. I couldn't say, miss," he answered. Then, suddenly changing his tone, and looking half- anxiously, half-sullenly at his captors, he said Look here, I want to know what you're going to do with me t Why should I tell you all this if I'm to get nothing out of it 1 If I'm to be taken over there for-" here he made a signi- ficant gesture. Why, I may just as well keep my tongue still." I told you that we might be able to do something for you if you helped" us, Thomson," said Macnaughten. As to what we're going to do with you at present, well, we'll have to take you down to Bow-street for an extradition order." The man's face blanched and his great hands -bands whose muscular power Miss Lamotte had noticed hundreds of times as he waited at table—began to clasp and unclasp the arms of the chair in which he sat. His dull eyes grew angry, his mouth mutinous. I'm not an American subject, Mr Mac- naughten," he growled. and I wish I'd never seen your country. Will they send me back ?" .1 I should say they will, Thomson. It was a bad business you know," answered the detec- tive. But these things take a little time, and while you're waiting you'll perhaps be able to tell us a little more about your master—eh?" he added significantly. And now I think we'll just be going down quietly." He glanced significantly at the clean-shaven man, and the latter rising from his chair finished his coffee, threw the end of his cigar away and producing a pair of handcuffs motioned to Thomson to extend his wrists. The prisoner growled ominously. Now then, no nonsense, Thomson said Macnaughten. You can't do anything, you know." If I'd known you were coming," muttered Thomson, I'd have taken good care you didn't find me as unprepared as I am." That's a foolish thing to say," said Mac- naughten. I didn't mean anything against you, Mr Macnaughten," protested Thomson. I meant I'd have been dead. Those are a bit too tight," he added, looking down at his manacled wrists. "They hurt." Never mind—you'll soon be out of them," said Macnaughten, cheerily. Now it's already dusk. and I'll get a cab quietly. See to him, Robson. Here, Miss Lamotte, I want to speak to you." Miss Lamotte and Macnaughten went into the library and closed the door. He looked at her narrowly, in silence. Are you going to try it ?" he asked at last. She nodded resolutely. It'll as likely as not cost you your life," he said. She nodded again. I'm quite aware of that," she replied. But I'll try it all the same." Well," he said, slowly and thoughtfully, of course, if you've counted the cost—how- ever, it's no use discussing it now that your mind's made up. But remember-when he finds that your're a traitor, a spy—he'll shoot you How do you know I shan't shoot him first ?" she asked, with a quick flash of her keen eyes. Look at this, Mr Macnaughten— keen eyes. Look at this, Mr Macnaughten- I've wormed my way into his confidence to a tremendous extent already—all 1 want to bring off the grandest coup I've ever had in my life is the entrance to this place where he goes. I'll never run him to earth if it isn't to-night All right," said Macnaughten. See what I want is done," she said. When I leave this house during the night see that I'm followed to wherever I go in such a fashion that not even he can detect it if he's with me. That's all-you know what to do later." I'll see to it all myself," he said. There'll be half-a-dozen men close by now —I shall send Robson and two of them away with Thomson, and then I'll devote myself to you. But be careful." I've thought it all out," she answered. It's the only thing'to do." Then Macnaughten and his fellow detective took the ci-devant Pimpery very quietly and unobtrusively away, and none of the domestics downstairs knew that anything had happened. The butler had always been.of strange habits, and if they thought anything at all about him that night it was simply that he had gone to bed early.. Before eleven, in accordance with custom, they were all in bed themselves. Miss Lamotte prepared for a vigil, but first she had a slight errand to perform. Throwing a wrap round her shoulders she picked up a blank envelope from a stationery case in the library, and letting herself out at the street door. walked to the pillar-box in Cavendish- square, the envelope in her hand looking to anyone who met her in no way indistinguish- able from a letter. She did not seem to do more than deposit her letter and turn. back again, but the fingers which dropped the blank en- velope into the slit, made, in the same move- ment, a chalk mark on the red paint of the box. Mgs Lamotte went back to the house in Harley-street and sought her own room. There she made certain preparations-one of which included the cleaning and loading of a very businesslike-looking revolver. Then she went downstairs into the dining-room and drank a glass of wine and ate some biscuits, and then, refreshed, sat down in the dark, close to the window, looking out through the half-closed blinds. Twelve o'clock chimed half-past twelve then one. The street was quiet except for the occasional passing of some belated pedestrian, or of a carriage or motor-,car. The nigLt air, stealing in through the open window, was soft and warm it would have made most people sleepy. But Miss Lamotte had never been so wide awake in her life. Half-past one the street entirely quiet. She kept her eyes perpetually fixed on one spot- the circle of dim light made bv one of the lamps a little way down the opposite side of the street. Into this circle a man suddenly came whom she knew at once to be Van Mildart. As he crossed it he struck a matchjjwhich flared up for a moment, died out, and was tossed away. The man walked hurriedly on and disappeared up the street. Miss Lamotte put down and fastened the window a moment later she fet herself out of the house and after traversing several of the smaller streets on the west side of Harley-street came to a halt at the corner of Spanish-place, Van Mildart was there, smoking a cigarette in apparent calmness of mind. "Well," he said as they walked away to- gether. They've got Pimpery," she said. Mac- naughten was on his track. They've taken him off to Bow-street." Van Mildart made no sign of astonishment, and for a moment he did not speak. Throwine his cigarette away he drew out his curar-case, and selecting a cigar lighted it with great de- liberation. Macnaughten ?" he said at last. "Um! He'll turn Thomson inside out." It's not safe to go back," she said, sugges- tively. No," he answered. "No—I suppose it isn't. Um—it's rather unexpected. However, we M104, 11 He walked a few steps in silence and at last turned to her. I've trusted you a good deal," he said. Now I shall have to trust you to the full. Remember, if you're false I shall kill you." Then, turning into Wigmore-stree, he hailed one of two hansoms which stood on a rank in the centre of the road and bidding Miss La- motte enter followed her into it and presently drove away eastward. A moment later two men in evening dress came up to the other handsom and after a short conversation with the driver, entered it and went off in the same direction. (To be Continued.)

EXCITING FIRE SCENES. Eazl-v on Sunday morning a fierce fire broke out in Market-street, Manchester, on premises occupied by various firms, one floor of which is used by the Colonial Club and as the head- quarters of the Manchester Legion of Frontiers- men. Several men in the club were taken by surprise, and some had narrow escapes, one being rescued by firemen when hanging, from a window-cill on the second floor. One of the party, a Parsee medical man, fell three storeys through the glass roof of a cafe, and sustained serious injuries. Three others were treated in the hospital, but not detained.

SUICIDE AT FOURTEEN. A verdict of Suicide while temporarily in- sane," was returned by a Coroner's jury at Ealing on Saturday in the case of the 14-year- old butcher's boy named Albert Carter, who hanged himself at his stepfather's house at Murray-road, South Ealing. The boy had been sent to his bedroom as punishment for disobedience, and committed the act after watching his stepfather leave the house. It was stated that he had been reading books of the penny dreadful type, and a few days before his death was found reading a report of the suicide of a boy of his own age. His father had died in an asylum, and the Coroner said no doubt this hereditary taint had ren- dered his mind unstable.

THOUGHT HUSBAND DEAD. At Pontefract on Saturday Eliza Ball, of Hemsworth, summoned her husband forf23 maintenance arrears. The complainant said the defendant left her in 1897. She never heard of him afterwards, and as she was told a John Ball had been found drowned near York she thought it was her husband, and she married again last January. Her second husband was accidentally killed a month ago, and then the defendant turned up. The' defendant now wanted his wife to be prosecuted for bigamy, but she said she honestly believed him dead. She married a second time because she wanted a home, which the defendant had never pro- vided for her. The Chairman said that this order remained in force until rescinded. The defendant must be imprisoned for 14 days, fail- J ing the immediate payment of the JE23.

When arrested on a charge of burglary at the Circus, Greenwich, Herbert Titlow's iodg ings were searched, and according to the evi dence given at Greenwich Police Court on Saturday a detective found some pepper and the neck of a cruet bottle in his bag. This, said the officer, gave the clue to another burglary at Grove Park, Camberwell, from which place a cruet had been stolen. You seem to know all about it," prisoner is alleged to have said to the detective. Prisoner was committed for 1. ,0.-

The Dead Bride. By KATHERINE TYNAN. Author of the Dear Irish Girl," The Ad- ventures of Alicia," My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose," &c., &c. It was after the afiair at Utrecht when I,had been left for dead on the field: and when I came to myself, I had not known for a while in that grey and ghostly light whether I lived or died. At first I remembered nothing then I had the wit to push the sheet from my face. I lay on a stone bench under a. low ceiling of vaulted stone. The light came in somewhere at the sides, and I heard a bird singing. The air blew in my face, wet air, that reminded me of the river at home, and the little streams that swelled it from the hill-sides. At first as I lay with my eyes closed, I was a boy at home. It was a day of heat, and I was climbing the path to the hill, through glens where the stream widened, and the air was full of the refreshment of sweet water. Slowly, slowly the light grew greater, and pre- sently 1 seemed to waken, and to desire to know where I was. I lifted myself on my elbow won- dering at my own weakness, for I was scarcely able to do so much. Then I shrank back over- whelmed with what I had seen. My bench was one of some half-dozen others, and each had its occupant. I had seen in that glimpse the long, straight forms that lay be- neath the sheets, with the strange angularity of the knees, the stiff upstanding feet. Their faces were hidden by the sheets, but I did not need to see them to know that they were the faces of dead men. I For a moment I all but lost my senses, having the,fear that I was buried alive. But there came the sound most welcome of all sounds in the world to me at that moment, the sound of spurred feet on a flagged passage, coming nearer and nearer. Then a shadow fell beween me and the light. I had had a horrid fear test I should faint and waken again to that sight, or perhaps be in the grave before I should waken, and I struggled violently against the unconsciousness that was coming upon me. Someone stooped over me, and I heard a sound Kke the catching of a breath, and that was the end of it so far as my knowledge was concerned at that time. My next coming to myself was better, al- though it was in a hospital ward, and e sick and dying were all about me. The window first came into my vision, and then a man's head dark against it, a shaggy head I thought I knew. It was surely Andrew Auchterlony, the surgeon of the Scottish Regiment, he who had the reputation of having the roughest tongue and the softest heart among his brethren and rough tongues were common enough among them as well as kind hearts. I have heard one excuse himself by saying that a man had need to relieve himself with strong speaking or break his heart when half the wounds in the hospital were gangrened and the, rest like to be the same and nothing to be had to relieve the poor wretches. I listened to him talking to someone, for a while before I again opened my eyes and looked at him; and I remember that he left off sharply and asked me how long I had been awake, in the gruff voice which did not deceive me. Twas you who found me among the dead men," said I. "I never was so glad as when I heard your spurs upon the flags." "Aye," said he. I gave word that you were to be watehed, and I looked in at you myself now and again. You had too much colour for a dead man, though we couldn't find a beat of your heart. This will be good news for your uncle Sir Archie." He has not heard I was dead ? I asked in quick alarm and it was not only of Sir Archi- bald Clavering I thought, but of the late Lady Clavering's niece, Jessica, with eyes browner than mountain pools, and the steadfast, pure, face beautiful under its banded hair. There were many deaths after Utrecht, he said, and your name was in the list. Why, you were dead, man, although I wouldn t let them bury you. If they have nearly diad of the grief they will be all the gladder of the joy. You are out of this campaign, and I shall patch you up as soon as I can, and you shall go home to them. Indeed, the sooner you are out of this place the better. It is no place for the living." He had me out of it as soon as he dared move me because of my wound, and I was nursed back to health slowly in a quiet, green- shuttered house within a garden, by a kind Dutch Vrouw. I was slow to rnend because of my anxiety to be gone home, and to comfort them, the two who leant on me for all of joy their world held. I had written and before I could hold a pen Andrew Auchterlony had promised to do as much for me but one never knew in those wild times when a letter would reach its destination, or if it would reach it at all. 'Twill be the greater jov," said Dr. Auchterlony when he promised to find me a berth in a ship as soon as I was fit to travel. But the inaction was intolerable since he had confessed to me that he had not written to con- tradict the report of my death, because it was uncertain for a time whether my wound would not mortify as happened with so many and 1 believe I was only saved from that fate by his having persuaded the Vouw, whom he has since married, to take me in and nurse me. So at last I took French leave and slipped away without consulting him, having arranged pri- vately with a captain to convey me to the Essex coast. I knew I was a very poor creature, and only fit to be carried in a litter when I landed at Harwich beach and the kind people at the inn would have kept me if I had not been so pas- sionately determined to push on. I was like a ghost as I saw myself in the green, spotted mirror above the fireplace in the inn-parlour while I waited, fretting, for the chaise to come round. I had a hundred miles and more to travel be- fore I should come to my uncle's house of Weston, but I was determined not to sleep before I should reach for the greatest im- patiencw come upon me. as though I dreaded e fearful calamity which could only be avoided by my presence. The chaise went at a good pace and we were to have relays of horses along the road. I wished I could have ridden, but that was not possible in my weak state and J fumed and fretted for all I could do to control myself, till I was like enough to present a sorry image of comfort to them at home. I urged the driver, and he urged his horses. He did not complain of the fatigue to himself, for I had promised him a golden guinea if Re could accomplish the journey in as little as might be over twelve hours. And he did accomplish it in fourteen, which was good going, seemg that we had to change horses and to eat, or pretend to eat. for it was no more than pretence so far as I was concerned. We arrived at the gates of Weston as the clock of Weston Church struck ten. And now I was glad of the darkness that covered our arrival, for. supposing that they had not heard I lived I was not minded that I should frighten them out of their lives. So I sent the chaise and its driver to the Weston Arms for the night, and myself approached the house on foot, slowly because of my weakness and fatigue, softly so that they should not know before there was time to prepare them. In front Weston Manor was all in darkness, the ivy in which it was clad making it stand out a great ragged pile a gainst the moon. I kept out of the moon's way and stole round the house into the rose garden, where Jessica and 1 had first spoken of love. My uncle's study looked over the maze of tangled sweets. It had not been so neatly kept since Aunt Margaret had died, although it was still beautiful. In the moon now it seemed all one great rose-bush and the scent of it was very sweet. The terrace below the windows was dark ex- cept where one lighted square fell upon it from the window of my uncle's room. In Lady Clavering' s lifetime he had chosen the room because he could sit at his writing and now and again glance down where she moved among her roses. After her death he still kept the room. and would not have the garden below disturbed by gardeners while he sat there in communion with her he loved. Wherefore since the gardeners could only work in his absence the place had become overgrown and neglected. I stole along the terrace like a thief, hoping the dogs would not get wind of me. As I raised myself cautiously to the sill Something small and soft hurled itself through the lattice, which stood open. and fell upon me in an inarticulate rapture. It was Jessica's little Skye terrier, Trusty and when I had lifted the little creature in my arms and held him to me he lay licking my hand and whimpering for joy but other- wise he made no sound. He might have been noisy and not disturbed my uncle, who sat in his chair with his grey head fallen upon the table in an attitude of utter abandonment. At first I thought he was asleep, but as I stood watching him, while a cold feeling of calamity clutched at my heart, he raised his head and sighed most unhappily, a sigh as though there were more burden upon his poor old heart than he could carry. Where was Jessica ? I asked myself, Jessica, who had ever been more tender to him than a daughter in his widowed age. It was not like Jessica to leave him to his desolation alone. Where was she ? With the question I seemed to know every- thing and to lose sense of everything except that she was dead, The room had an untidy, uncared-for look. which she had loved to keep in order. And the old head lying there* among he tossed papers, Why, she might be-unhappy I'n Heaven thinking how she had left him and ne—and me. I forgot everything, and drew myself heavily up by the window-sill over which I used to vault so lightly. I need not have feared to frighten him. Plainly he had gone past fear. Why, Frank," he said. Frank 1 You Have come back to a sad house. Only yesterday I heard you lived. A week ago it might have saved her for you and me." It seemed that I had known always that she was dead, I put my arm round the poor old man who had been tender as a father to me, and tried to comfort him. knowing that there was no comfort in the world possible to me and presently he came out of his trance of de- spair to remember, after his kind and gentle fashion, that I was a sick man and a traveller, and needed food and wine and rest. So he would have me sit in his own seat while he called the servants, and food was brought to me which I could not cat, and wine of which I drank little, yet it revived me so that I could suffer more keenly and hear what there was to bell. She had fretted from the time she heard the false news of my death had grown thin and hollow-eyed, while she strove to be cheerful for the sake of the old man. And then her illness had suddenly became worse. She had been in a fever for two days, during which she had talked to me incessantly, believing me present and in the third night she had died. The funeral was to-day," he said, "and she wano sooner laid to rest than we had yonr message that you lived. I did not know how I was to tell you, my poor boy. She sleeps in the dress she embroidered for her wedding, and there was never a lovelier bride. She smiled as she lay in her coffin and the rose yet kept its place in her cheeks. I wish you might have seen her, how sweet she was," I slept that night because I was wornout, and when I slept I dreamt that I was again in the hospital at Utrecht. Again I saw the glim- mering square of the window,againstit Andrew Auchterlony's shaggy head. I heard what he was saying, the things which till my dreams I never knew I had heard. By some strange trick my msmory had seized them and held them unknown to me, to give them back to me in a dream. But for me," he had said, Sir Archibald Clavering would lack an heir now and Weston Manor a master. I would not have him buried till the signs of death were beyond doubt. Yet many a fine fellow and many a fine lady have been lain underground with less signs of death than he showed. I had applied all the tests. There was no pulse, no heart-beat, no breath. Yet you see 'twas but a cataleptic trance, as I believed it was. There was but one sign infallible The voice droned and died Off and I could make nothing of it. I seemed to be falling down, down, on soft beds of slumber, acd my limbs were possessed by a delicious langour. I was fast falling to sleep when suddenly a cry rang in my dreams which would have awakened me if I slept the everlasting slumber. It was Jessica's voice. Frank, save me, save me, be- fore it is too late." I was up in an instant, broad awake and understanding. I had no more doubt that the voice had called me and that it was no dream thau I had of my own being. It was night-black still, and the twigs of the sycamore tapped against the pane, like im- patient little fingers that craved an entry. And I remembered how Jessica had worn the roses in her check although she was dead. I did not strike a light, I was too impatient to be gone for that and my hands shook as I dressed myself hastily. It was not above three minutes from the time I awoke till I was taking down the house-bolts from the hall-door. Luckily I knew where a lantern was to be found, in a closet off the hall where it was kept for giving light on dark winter evenings when friends were leaving the Manor or any of us had business that took us abroad. There was flint too and touchwood and it was not long, although too lohg for my anguish of impatience, before I had kindled a light. I knew where I should find tools if I needed them in the hollow oak in the churchyard to which the sexton had put a door. Oddly enough I never thought of asking any- one to go with me. Perhaps I had an idea that they might think me mad, and try to detain me by force. So it was that I stole out like a thief in the night to the rescue of mv love. Luckily-it was not far to the churchyard, which lay within the park walls of Weston, in a Secluded grove; and that was lucky for me, lest perhaps I might have been discovered by the villagers and suspected of the desecration of graves for the purposes of robbery, for such things had been known, especially since the wars had made so many despairing and desti- tute, so that they lived how they could, and some of them would prey on the dead as well as the quick. Nor if they had found me would they have waited to discover who I was, so that a blow from a peasant's spade might have completed what was begun at Utrecht. However, the little churchyard was quiet amid its yews and cypresses, the great vault of the Claverings towering in the light of the moon which had risen just above the small graves of the peasants. The gate was not locked but I knew when I came to the vault that I should find the iron gate closed against me. Of the lock I would make short work with the sexton's hammer, and then there were but the scews of the coffin to release till I should look upon her face. When the thought came to me that she might already have come to life I was like a madman. I shattered the lock with a blow of the ham- mer and flung back the gates of floriated iron- work, which some say wer$the work of Quin- tin Matsys himself. I was grateful for the vault that they had not laid her in the earth. Ah! there was her coffin, the pall of purple upon it, laid on the svone table in the cen- tre of the vault as the new-comer is left to lie, according to our custom, a year and a day. I was not long in flinging the pall aside. Close by the entrance of the vault a night-bird hooted. Something pressed against my feet and whimpered, and I knew without looking that it must be her little dog that had followed me. And so it was. I set my teeth as 1 unscrewed the coffin lid. Then I lifted the lantern in one hand while I flung back the lid with the other. I dieaded what I might see. Suppose she had awakened before I could come and save her! But there was nothing, nothing, only a vision of beauty such as angels in heaven might pause to gaze upon. She had not yet waked. Her face had the sweetest peace, the sweetest joy upon it, where it lay bet,ween the bands of dark hair, the bridal veil framing it around, the bridal blossoms above it. Her hands were folded. over her heart; the train of her satin gown was laid across her feet. She was so tender and so beautiful that if she had been dead it would have killed me to see her. But I knew she was not dead. While I looked at her a sudden agony shook me to think of her in that place of the dead. All at once I was conscious of the damp and mouldering atmosphere and the dim shapes of the coffins in their niches. What had she to do with these, whom God had made beautiful for life. for love 1 I lifted her in my arms and taking her out into the blessed air I laid her on the grass while I hid as well as might be the traces of my visit. Her little dog was licking at her hand when I left her, and when I came blck he was lying contentedly on at fold of her gown as often he had done before. I said to myself that I and the wise beast alone out of all the world knew that she was not dead. I carried her in her bridal finery by the light of the moon through the dark avenue to the house. She was heavy in my arms and her sweet cheek against my cheek was as cold as the dead yet I knew she was not dead. Why if she were dead I should be dead too or mad. Though all the world should tell me she was dead I should have known she was living. The house was quiet as I had left it, Not a creature stirred. I made the house-door fast as I had found it, and I carried Jessica upstairs to my room. I was not going to run the risk of their saying I was mad and returning her to that charnel-house. I was going to watch her as Andrew Auchterlony had watched me till she should awake. I laid her on my bed with the pillows under her head, and smoothed down her satin dress. There was nothing to do till she could come out of her cataleptic sleep. I opened the windows so that she should have air to breathe, and then I sat by her watching her, and making my plans so that no one should enter my room but my- self. I prayed as 1 had never prayed before that I might keep well, for already my wound ached and emarted and I felt the fever in my veins. Supposing I were to fall ill, and they to come and find her! Why they might think that I had snatched her from the grave in a madman's im- pulse, and return her there while I lay helpless. When morning came I locked the door upon her and went downstairs. Never had I longed in all mv life for anyone as I longed for Andrew Auchterlony now. If only there had not been those miles of sea and land between us. We sat at breakfast, my uncle and I. making but a poor pretence of eating food. My mind was working, working hard, grinding upon it- self like the stones of the quern when the corn runs low between them. I did not dare have a doctor to her lest he might look at me com- passionately and tell me that it was a delusion of my fever that she lived. So I could do nothing for her only wait till she should awake and pray that I might be at hand when the mo- ment came. The day passed, and there was no change in her, and the evening came. I had kept to my room all day, and had refused admittance to anvone. All day I had been in pain, and now I burned, and now I was cold and at times I was deadly sick. I had delusions Sometimes that she was awake and speaking to me, and I would answer her fondly and then would come to myself with a start, hearing my own voice as though it had been the voice of a stranger, only to find her smiling gently on her pillow, cold as before. I was going down the great staircase about I five o'clock of the afternoon, having left her a light lest she should wake in the dark. I was on my way to my Uncle, whom I knew I should find in his study, doing nothing as he had been doing nothing since I came. I had seen him look at me once or twice as we sat together at board, as though he were frightened for me,' and for further calamfty to himself. If only I might share my hope, my certainty with him but I did not dare. There was only one man, and he was far away. Was it a delusion of my fever that. as I de- scended the stairs, there was the bustle of arrival in the hall; and above the other voices I heard the voice I most desired to hear on earth except hers ? I stood in the darkness of the gallery above peering down and hearing that voice. Impos- sile that he should really be here Unless he had followed me unless he had followed me With that light upon the voice I went leap- ing down the stairs, although my head reeled and I caught Andrew Auchterlony in my arms as though I loved him. There is no man in all the earth I need so much as you," said I. Although you gave me the slip," said he and while I followed as fast as I could 1 was expecting all the time to find a sick or a dead man on the road." As he spoke he was feeling my pulse. My poor lad," said he, and I knew by his face that he had heard what had befallen us— my poor lad Lam glad I have come up with you at last. There's a long rest due to me. and I'll take it at Weston and look after you. Don't you know you'd be a dead man now, if it wasn't for me." I gave the servants orders about his room, hardly knowing what I said. Then I drew him away with me to my own room. He glanced keenly at me as he saw me pro- duce the key and unlock the door and I gues- sed that he thought I was a bit mad, like the rest of the world. But when I had ushered him within, and having locked the door behind us, proceeded to light all the candles I could find, he stood a little pale, watching me, for at first he did not see what lay upon the bed which was in the shadow. But, when the lights were lit and I drew him over that he might see he called on God under his breath. I thought she was buried," she said in a stupefaction. Why so she was." said I, but I have cheated the grave of her. Last night I carried her here in my arms." I saw that he thought that he had to deal with madman. I am as sane as you," I said," and she is no more dead than I was in the dead-house at Utrecht. Look and see." He bent over her, and I saw him lift one of her eyelids. Then he felt for her pulse and for her heart. In a dream," I said, "if dream it was. I heard the things you said while I yet lay but half-conscious in the hospital. You spoke of cataleptic trances." You could not have known it," he said. staring atine. You were dead asleep while I talked." Nevertheless, my brain received if," I re- plied, although I did not know it then. Also between sleep and waking I heard her voice in a sudden terror, calling to me to save her. So I broke into her vault and carried her here." I would not say 'tis not cataleptic," he said to himself. And then he began to do things, things I should not have known how to do, against her awakening, if awakening there was t) be. He and I kept watch by turns, but it was in my watch, towards the dawn of the new day, that she awoke. And when she had awakened she stretched her arms to me as though we had never parted. I dreamt you were dead. Frank," she said. How glad I am that it was but a dream." And then she closed her eyes like a tired child against my breast. When we brought the trembling, weeping, rejoicing old man to see her, she was asleep in her own bed, in that nest of her girlhood, so white, so innocent and fragrant, that it seemed a holy place. It was but in time, her coming to life, for it had scarcely happened before there was a terrible hubbub, a number of the village folk coming shouting to Weston with the news that the grave had been desecrated and Jessica's sweet body stolen away. I think the shock of that story would have killed him if he had not known first that Jessica lived. It was long before she knew of her burying alive, not till she was my wife. When I told her, she had a strange fleeting memory of hav- ing somewhere been in deadly peril and calling mc to come to deliver her. Andrew Auchterlony and his Dutch wife live close by the gates of Weston. Sir Archibald Clavering is still with us to t.ake joy in his grand-nephews and nieces, and to spoil them, says my Jessica. Long may it be till 1 come into my title. (The End.) Next Week- THE MUTINEERS' TRIUMPH, By Oswald Wildridge.

Holland's Royal Baby. CHRISTENING CEREMONY. QUEEN IN A CARRIAGE ACCIDENT. The Hague, Saturday.—As Queen Wilhel- mina and Prince Henry drove up to the church where the christening of the Royal infant took place this morning, their carriage collided with another which had just been brought to a standstill in front ot the church. There was, says the VasDiaz Agency, a. scene of confusion, but it was soon seen that their Majesties were unhurt and able to descend from the carriage. After considerable trouble the carriages, which had become interlocked, were disen- tangled. Her Majfsty remained quite calm throughout the mishap, and descended from the carriage amidst cheers from the assembled crowd.—Central News. The Hague, Saturday.—The baptism of the infant Princess Juliana took place this after- noon at the Willemskerk. Queen Wilhelmina apd Prince Henry pro- ceeded to the church, where they were re- ceived by the Grand Master of Ceremonies and a committee of high dignitaries of the Netherlands Reformed Church, who conducted them to their seats. In accordance with the Queen's wish the decorations were very simple. At the moment when the august couple entered the church the Royal Excelsior Choral Society sang a canticle, after which the religious ser- vice began. An anthem was sung, and then Dr. Gerretsen, the Court chaplain, offered up a praver, and delivered an address. taking as his text Luke VII., 15:" And he delivered him to his mother." The infant Princess's cortege to the church left the Palace a quarter of an hour after the departure of the Queen and the Prince. It was composed of two carriages, conveying the Master of the Ceremonies and the Court Chamberlain, while Princess Juliana was in a third carriage drawn by six horses. Her Royal Highness, carried by her nurse, was accompanied by the Grand Mistress and the Grand Master of Queen Wilhelmina. The guard of honour consisted of a squadron of cavalry, half at the head, and half bringing up the rear of the procession. At the entrance of the church her Royal Highness was received by the Grand Master of Ceremonies and the committee of church dignataries. When the Court Chaplain had concluded his address, and the christening service had been read, the Grand Mistress. making a deep obeisance, placed the infant Princess in the hands of her mother, who held her during the brief ceremony at the silver Gothic font. The service was brought to a conclusion with prayers and hymns, the whole congrega- tion singing the 134th Psalm. After the Benediction had been pronounced, the Grand Mistress received the Royal child from her Majesty.—Reuter.

ABERAVON THEFT CHARGES. At Aberavon Borough Police Court on Mon- day Esther Lewis, married, Green Park-street, was charged with stealing a pair of shoes from the shop of A. Woodward, boot and shoe dealer, 64, Water-street, Aberavon. P.C. Enstone said he arrested defendant who, in reply to the charge, said I did not intend stealing them. I was only going to try them on." Defendant was bound over as a first offender and ordered to pay costs. Alleged Theft at Port Talbot. Wm. Davies, Margam-terrace, Port Talbot, was charged with stealing a lamp from the premises of D. Jenkins and Sons, furnishers, 33, Station-road, Port Talbot, on the 29th ult. Mr L. M. Thomas for defendant, appealed for the clemency of the Bench. Delendant was fined 40s and costs. I Thomas J. Walters, aged 19, Reuben Waiters, 16, and William Evans, 14, all of Green Park-street, Aberavon, were charged with stealing a quantity of lead, the property of Miss Talbot, from stores at the Old Forge Works, on Friday last. Mr L. M. Thomas defended Evans. Defendants were bound over under the Probationers Act for 12 months.

XTFRE ALARM. Some mischievous boys were the cause of a turn-out of the Cardiff Fire Brigade on Saturday evening. Superintendent Geen re- ceived information about 8.40 that smoke was issuing from the oid Electric Power Station in Tyndall-street, the property of the Great Western Railway Company. He immediately went to the spot with the brigade, and on arrival found that boys had got into the premises and lighted a fire on the floor. This was the cause of the smoke and the alarm. It might eventually have proved dangerous, but, as it was, the brigade soon accounted for the fire. No damage was done.

BEER FOR BABY. A mother who gave her baby, age four years, intoxicating liquor without a medical certi- ficate," which is now a punishable offence under the Children Act, was fined five shil- lings at Old-street Police Court on Saturday. The defendant was sitting on the steps of her house with another woman,both of whom were drinking black beer from glasses, and a constable wfeo was passing saw the defendant giving her bhby, who was in her lap, a drink of beer. She told the magistrate the child began to cry and she gave her only a sip." Mr Rose: You ought not to suppose she was crying for beer.

The Rev. J. Pollock, of St. Gabriel's Church, Swansea, is suffering from an attack of pleurisy. It is believed that he has serionsly overworked himself in connection with the secretarial duties of the Swansea Church Congress.

WORKMEN AND WAR. International Amity. REFUSE TO KILL EACH OTHER." Railwaymen'Meet at Cardiff. Jingoism feeling and the desire to creot6 animosity between nations is to receive "0 support. from English workingmen, j from the note struck at the mass meeting railwaytnen held at the Park Hall, Cardiff, Sunday, under the auspices of the Associa Society of Locomotive Engineers and \Tg men. The object of the meeting was to welc? Mr W. S. Carter, the president of the Railway Brotherhood, on his visit to WsS There was a large attendance, presided over i Mr W. Williams, the chairman oi the Card, Trades Council, who was supported on j"*v platform by Mr H. Parfitt, the organiging secretary of the society, Mr A. Fox. Scnej, secretary, Leeds, Mr W. Warwick, -Mr ,.ai Bromley Southall, and members of the and Newport Trades Council. The Chairman, in the course of his remarks, observed that such an attendap went to prove that the bonds of Labour do twined the world, and would eventually a away with the militarism so much about to-day. Some people had an idea to the day of Trade Unionism was matter of fact they had only just started Labour politics, and there were stormys before them. A Menace to Labour. Trusts and big monopolies were a iriienace t. La hour, and in order to fight these Unionism would continue to exist, and in ° .jjj to become a power Labour must be linked politics, so that they might have a say in the making of laws. (Applause.) He was glad ø find that since 1901 the Associated Society bld increased by 9,000 members. (Applause.) Mr H. Parfitt, in formally welcoming W. S. Carter, said that Wales had been call ad the stronghold, of combinations, and bb8 always been able to hold its own in t struggle between Capital and Labour. greatest difficulty the Labour heir had in South Wales was to hold tb men back. Wales was undoubted^ to the front in the recent all-grade and if it had come to a fig»ht Cardiff and i neighbours would have been in the front oi ,iat struggle. Wales was the home of the As-,or Society, for though Monmouthshire was cajj the birthplace of the society, it had Ot"; dropped down there by a wise Providence order that Wales might rock the cradle. fit members now were scattered all over and Scotland, and in their guest they ha& rZ American member of the society. They looked to America for guidance, for Am was the home of thousands of oppressed men and Englishmen and millions of Irishd^ One of the objects of the gathering ff33 bring the workers of the various count' together in order to foil the attempts °h tp Yellow Press, which sought to drive tbe apart. The Interests of Workmen. The interests of the workmen in all county were identical, and they had nothing to by killing each other. If the workers to kill each other, then Kings and Empe^ and Presidents and others in authority tire of the game. (Applause.) Thus jf they do away with war between nations. the workmen of France and Germany America refused to fight, it stood to that there would be no need for standing a,rCPlat and Dreadnoughts and airships. (Laugh and applause,) They aimed at the broth hood of men, and extended to their brot^ from across the sea a hearty welcome gallant little Wales." (Applause.) Mr Carter, who received an ovation on rlS^ to reply, said that he understood the welcov^ to be extended to the gfeat mass of America who were engaged in the same cI?ti It was from the Mother Country that they gained their knowledge of Trade the beginning. All the unions in America international, for they knew no line of dew ation between workmen, and there distinction in the combinations of capital 0 labour of the United States and Canada. £ organisation of Canada was identical with-tgf of the States, and the Associated Society Engineers and Firemen numbered 65.000. 0 whom a very large proportion owed aüegleø to the British Flag. There was a killS õ between the working people of the States d the working people of other countries, among all classes there was a feeling of for England, the best evidence of 0( could illustrate by saying that when Japa» 0 Germany built one Dreadnought it 8 yj them more concern than if built twelve. (Hear, hear.) They yj their Jingoes and' their Yellow Press America, but he never knew a man ye?. f0t preached war but that he preached ll> profit. (Hear, hear, and applause.) B°ff. wars had they in the past that were not t'oi gain of the few ? Men Who Made War. The men who made war never fo^/g^ (Hear, hear.) They took the profit, and e%VeC^ the common people to yield up their lives | their comforts in order that they migh" £ 3 land or gold. (Hear, hear.) When a class ( actuated by such motives in jj affairs it behoved the people to be wary- ejf they sacrified men's blood and lives for own gain in wars, what could they expect them when it became a question of the sion of the profits of the industries, of j, nation? (Hear, hear.) Protective made it possible for manufacturers in AUleít to ask their own price for their goods. plea when making tariffs was that they to protect Labour, but he had never hearC*)j}t the working men getting any part of the P?^- save that which they wrung from the cs, P, ists by means of their Trade Unions. bear.) If men told them that the _L»D Unions of America were not effective* would point to the fact that in almost all within the past 35 years the wages 1;1 been increased from 40 to 100 per cent. y) layers got iEl a day, and carpenters from lits 14s. Out of the wreckage of the great of labour the present American Trade U11 gjr had sprung. Mr Carter then went on plain the working of the American Rftl Brotherhoods, and said that by these ta they had practically doubled the wages o» 0i men since 1875, and had increased the waf? engineers by 50 per cent. Clerks and the of the permanent way had not combined %60 consequently had not enjoyed similar advo, ages, but engine drivers earned from 32s for six or eight hours work, locomotive men would be disappointed if they did °^e^' ceive 12s at the end of ten hours, and t> men, guards, and shunters received month. (Hear hear.) Proceeding he urg^gS British raiiwaymen to combine, but ?a. would only come by the union of indi^1 trades being afterwards federated. Wise Combination. old By wise combination their conditions be greatly improved without a strike or of a strike. All their great victories had won without strikes, for general manager9 came to recognise that they were dealing sJsO business men. (Hear, hear.) I^et theni study military history and learn never battle when the enemy invited them, t°oj all their progressive movements in tU^^ld prosperity, and in times of adversity to what they had won. (Applause.) A* Speeches were also delivered by MeSS^jje Fox, W. Warwick, and J. Bromley, course of the proceedings Miss Ethel rendered a solo which was much appreci*

THE ROMANS IN WALES- f At the Montgomeryshire village of o' there was ended on Saturday the first interesting and important excavations. V. taken jointly by the Powysland Club Liverpool Excavation Committee, thisreS- jjW forms part of a scheme to gain more information concerning the dark h>s period between the departure of the and the beginning of documentary bis^of The work is being supervised by o>- Bosanquet, assisted by Dr. E. Davies Caersws, and Mr Eyre Evans, of Abe S t Caersws stood at the junction of no fewe" five Roman roads.. The excavator3 began operations south-eastern corner of the encampmeP*t a very satisfactory result. The first two o* I revealed under the surface soil a thick .7ets0^ clays, whose artificial character was e tfro by the stone cobbling, which separated 1 the subsoil. Three cylindrical holes through this clayey rampart, and the P + tit remains of decayed wood suggest Romans here used large timbers or tall which were perhaps continued upwards f watch-tower, such as is described by estiø This discovery at Caersws has an iote parallel at Castteshaw, near 01dhaca» two years ago similar traces of timbe found in connection with a clay rampar clue to the date when these Caersws » were constructed it is worth noting tha {0ul> depth of ten feet there were also embedded in the clay some of Samian pottery of an early h*^ which was in use during the secon of the first century. Outside the clayeJ^g^oiJ^ part there was traced a wall of red which could not have been quarried miles of Caersws. ligh^ tv- Saturday's excavations brought to c°*\ south wall of a building, apparently cfoSS^ siderable size, adjoining a road whicii 0 the camp from east to west, and ,D -^to \,e toad previously found, which runs • camp from the south gate. These roa^(j j been cut across in five or six places, a poB- which was dissected shows several road surfaces of different dates. Considering the important posi^ ec&t*°rC the camp occupied archa;ological exp in Montgomeryshire are running high tl> vided a sufficiency of funds is avaua ? explorations will throw much new hg Roman Wales.

,_u_u_ njbi On Monday morning, as Mr manager at Vaughan's lodging houses fo<^ Swansea, was going his l'oun. 'vJ>d. Thomas Clark (50), navvy, dead in ceased had been staying at the lodg for about a month.