The Foraker Sun. (Foraker, Okla.), Vol. 7, No. 3, Ed. 1 Friday, May 10, 1912 Page: 3 of 9
This newspaper is part of the collection entitled: Oklahoma Digital Newspaper Program and was provided to The Gateway to Oklahoma History by the Oklahoma Historical Society.
Extracted Text
The following text was automatically extracted from the image on this page using optical character recognition software:
mm*
SERIAL
STORY
y
( ']
The Pool
of Flame
LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE
Illustrations by Ellsworth Young
Copyright 1009, by Louis Joseph Vance
0
SYNOPSIS.
The story opens at Monte Carlo with
Col. Terence O'Rourke, a military free
lance and something of a gambler. In his
hotel. Leaning on the balcony he sees a
beautiful girl who suddenly enters the
elevator and passes from sight. At the
gaming table O'Rourke notices two men
watching him. One Is the Hon. Bertie
G'ynn, while his companion Is Viscount
Pes Trebes, a duelist. The viscount tells
him the French government has directed
him to O'Rourke as a man who would
undertake a secret mission. At his apart-
ment, O'Rourke, who had agreed to un-
dertake the mission, finds a mysterious
letter. The viscount arrives, hands a
pealed package to O'Rourke, who is not
to open It until on the ocean. A pair of
dainty slippers are seen protruding from
under a doorway curtain. The Irishman
finds the owner of the mysterious feet to
he his wife, Beatrix, from whom he had
run away a year previous. They are
reconciled, and opening the letter he finds
that a Rangoon law firm offers him
100,000 pounds for a Jewel known as the
Pool or Flame and left to him by a dy-
ing friend, but now In keeping of one
Jmmed Chambret In Algeria. O'Rourke
Worsts the nobleman in a duel. The wife
bids O'Rourke farewell and he promises
to soon return with the reward. He dis-
covers both Glynn and the viscount on
board the ship. As he finds Chambret
there Is an attack bv bandits and his
friend dies telling O'Rourke that he has
left the Pool of Flame with the governor
general, who at sight of a signet ring
given the colonel will deliver over the
Jewel. Arriving at Algeria the Irishman
finds the governor general away. Des
Trebes makes a mysterious appointment,
and tells O'Rourke that he has gained
possession of the Jewel by stealing it. In
a duel O'Rourke masters the viscount,
secures possession of the Pool of Flame
and starts by ship for Rangoon. He finds
the captain to be a smuggler who tries to
steal the Jewel.
CHAPTER XIV.—(Continued.)
He ran as seldom he had run be-
fore, straining and laboring, stumbling,
recovering and plunging onward. And,
by the gods, wasn't it hot! The
khamsin raved and tore like a spirit
of hell-fire through that narrow alley,
turning It into a miniature inferno
But in the course of some minutes,
the end of the tunnel came in view;
a lighted rift between house walls,
giving upon the illuminated street be-
yond. The sight brought forth a fresh
burst of speed from O'Rourke. He
dashed madly out of the alley,
stumbled and ran headlong Into a
strolling Greek, who grappled with
blm, at first In surprise and then in
resentment, while the clamor of the
pursuing rabble shrilled loud and
near and ever nearer.
Exhausted as he was, the Irishman
struggled with little skill before he
mastered his own surprise; and in tne
end saw his finis written along the
blade of a thin, keen knife which the
Greek nad whipped from the folds of
his garments and jerked threateningly
above his head.
It was falling when O'Rourke saw
It. In another breath he had been
stabbed. Unexpectedly the Greek
shrieked, dropped the knife as though
it had turned suddenly white-hot in
his hands, and leaped back from
O'Rourke. nursing a broken wrist;
while a voice as sweet as the singing
of angels rang in the fugitive's ears,
though the spirit of its melody was
simple and crude enough.
"O'Rourke, be all th' powers! The
masther himself! Glory, ye beggar,
'tis sorry I am that I didn't split the
ugly face of ye wid me sthick!
. . This way, yer honor! Come
wid me!"
Blindly enough (Indeed the world
was all awhirl about him) O'Rourke,
his arm grasped by a strong and confi
dent hand, permitted himself lo be
6wung to the right and across the
6treet. In a thought blackness again
was all about him, but the hand
gripped his arm. hurrying him onward;
and he yielded blindly to its guidance
—without power, for that matter, to
question or to object; what breath
he had he sorely needed. And as blind-
ly he stumbled on for perhaps another
hundred yards, while the voice of the
rabble made hideous the night be-
hind tbem. Hardly, indeed, had the
two whipped into the mouth of the
back-way ere it was choked by a
swarm of pursuers But—"Niver
fear!" said the voice at his side.
" 'Tis ourselves that'll outwit them.
. . . Here, now, yer honor, do ye
go straight on wldout sthoppin' ontil
ye come to an iron dure in a dead wall
at the end av this. Knock there
wance. count tin, and knock agaio.
I'll lead 'em away and be wid ye again
in a trace av shakes!"
Benumbed by fatigue and exhaus-
tion, O'Rourke obeyed. He was aware
that his preserver with a wiid whoop
had darted aside Into a cross-alley, but
hardly aware of more. Mechanically
he blundered on until brought up by
a wall that closed and made a cul-de-
sac of the way.
With trembling hands he felt before
him, fingers encountering the smooth,
cool surface of a sheet of metal. This,
then, was the door. As carefully as
he could he knocked, counted ten, and
knocked again—while the mob that
had lusted for his blood trailed off
down the side alley in frantic pursuit
of his generous preserver. And he
heard with a smile, the latter's shrill
defiant Irish yells luring them further
upon the false scent.
"If 'tis not Danny," gasped the ad-
venturer, "then myself's not the
O'Rourke! Bless the lad!"
But as he breathed this benediction
the iron door swung inwards and he
stumbled across the threshold, half-
fainting, hardly conscious that he had
done more than pass from open, night
to the night of an enclosed space. His
foot caught on some obstruction and
he went to his knees with a cry that
was a cross between a sob and a
groan; and incontinently fell full
length upon an earthen'floor, his head
pillowed on his arm, panting as If his
heart would break.
In the darkness above him someone
cried aloud, a startled cry, and then
the door was thrust to with a clang
and rattle of bolts. A match rasped
loudly and a flicker of light leaped
from a small hand lamp and revealed
to its bearer the fagged and quivering
figure on the floor.
Some one sat down beside him with
a low exclamation of solicitude and
gathered his head Into her lap. Some
one quite simply enfolded his neck
with soft arms and pressed his head
to her bosom, and as if that were not
enough, kissed him full and long upon
his lips.
"My dear! My dear!" she murmured
in French. "What has happened,' O,
what has happened? My poor, poor
boy!"
Now the integral madness of all this
was as effectual In restoring O'Rourke
to partial consciousness as had been
a douche of cold water In his face.
Blankly he told himself that he was
damned, and that it was all a dream.
And yet, when he looked, It was to
see, dim in the feeble glimmer of the
lamp, the face of- a woman as beauti-
ful as young, as young as beautiful.
One glance was enough. O'Rourke
shut his eyes again. "If I look too
long," he assured himself, "she'll van-
ish or—or turn into a fiend. Sure, 'tis
a Judgment upon me! Too long have
I been an amorous dram-drinker; this
will undoubtedly be the delirium-tre-
mens of love!"
And with that he passed quietly Into
temporary unconsciousness.
CHAPTER XV.
He opened his eyes again, alone on
the cool, damp, earthen floor, but as-
sured that the feminine element In his
adventure had been no hallucination,
after all; for he .could see the girl
standing a little to one side and look-
ing down upon him, her face so deep
In shadow that he could gather noth-
ing from its expression, whether it
were- of displeasure or of perplexity.
From this and that, however, he de-
duced that she, discovering herself
lavishing endearments on the wrong
man, was not utterly delighted with
the situation. The circumstances tak-
en into consideration, such a state of
mind he thought not unreasonable;
and being now to some extent recov-
ered, he saw no profit In making her
suffer more. So with a show of
faintness not wholly assumed, he
rolled his head to one side, opening
wide his eyes and looked the woman
in the face, Inquiring with his faint,
thin brogue: "What's this, now, me
dear?"
The girl's face darkened. She shook
her head Impatiently. "I have no Eng-
lish," she told him in excellent French.
"Who are you? Why do you come
here? You are not Danny!"
"Oho!" commented O'Rourke know-
ingly, "and that's the explanation, is
it?" He sat up. embracing his knees
and drawing a rueful face. "Faith, me
dear," he admitted, "I concede ye the
best of the argument, thus far. I am
not Danny—'tis true as Gospel."
She frowned. "Then what are you
doing here, monsieur? How did you
learn—who told you—the signal?"
"Faith, from no less a person than
Danny Mahone himself. He showed
me the way and bade me knock—but
nlver a word said he of yourself, me
dear."
"Monsieur does not recall that I ad-
mitted him?" she persisted, but with
a lightening face, "nor anything that
happened thereafter?"
"Not the least in the world. What
did happen, now?"
But sue flanked that embarrassing
question adroitly, evidently much re-
lieved by O'Rourke's reassurance.
Which was Just what he wished her
frame of mind to be. "Nothing that
matters," she replied, continuing to
employ the French tongue, and that
very prettily, with a fetching little ac
cent. "I think you fainted. Then—but
you know my Danny?"
"Your Danny!" said O'Rourke, his
mood quizzical. "None better, me dear.
I've known him since he was so high,
or thereabouts." And he held a palm
some six inches or so above the floor.
"And he—he brought you here?"
"Who else? How else would I be
knowing the signal? Ye see, there was
a bit of a shindig down (he street and
me In the middle thereof and getting
all the worst of It—If ye must know—
when along comes Danny and lends
me a hand and whips me off here and
says he'll be back in a moment He'll
tell ye the details himself; but I"—
he eyed her quizzically—"would no.v
ask ye to overlook the unceremonious
manner of me entrance and a certain
lack of dignity as to me attire, which
I beg ye to believe is not me ordinary
evening dress, and—and faith! me
throat Is baked entirely, If me clothes
are not. May I ask for a drink at
mademoiselle's fair hands?"
He was on his feet now and en-
joying the situation hugely. "And 'tis
the Irish eye for beauty Danny has!"
he told himself. "I commend his taste,
the rogue!"
For the girl was exceedingly fair to
see; slender and straight and girlish
and sweet; a Greek, if he were to
judge of her features and her dress,
and in that odd light, with perturba
tion in her pose, a smile half-perplexed
trembling on her lips (because of
O'Rourke's conceit) and the shadow of
anxiety clouding her eyes, she made a
charming picture indeed.
She was quick to grant his request.
"Danny will explain," she agreed with
conviction. "This way, then, if you
please, monsieur, and"—as they passed
through a low doorway—"if you will
have the patience to wait here, I will
fetch wine."
She smiled enchantingly, dropped
him a bewitching little courtesy with
a deference evoked, no doubt, by the
man's subtle yet ineradicable air of
distinction, and left him wholly capti-
vated. "Bless her heart and pretty
face!" he murmured, eyeing her re-
treating figure. " 'Tis Danny who's
the lucky dog . . . not that he's
not deserving. . . ."
He reviewed his refuge summarily,
discovering that he stood In one cor-
ner of a small courtyard, the center
of a hollow cube of masonry; a dwell-
ing of two stories, round whose upper
"Ah!" he sighed, resuming his seat
but rising again, and quickly, as a
second summons clanged upon the
iron door and sent the girl flying to-
wards the rear of the house.
"That will be Danny now,"
O'Rourke opined as she swept past
him.
She murmured a response he did
not clearly c»tch. "What's that?" he
called after her.
"Or, possibly," she repeated, pausing
at the entrance to the rear chamber,
"it may be Monsieur the Captain
Hole!"
"The divvle!" cried O'Rourke, and
was on his feet in a twinkling, cast-
ing about him for a weapon. "That
can't be—"
Nothing offered itself suitable either
for offense or defense, save and except
the jug he had been drinking from,
and the Irishman waB weighing this
thoughtfully with a definite intention
of hurling it at Captain Hole's head.
If indeed he had heard aright, when
the entrance of quite another person
relieved his mind, however tempo-
rarily.
It was Danny, plainly enough; Dan-
ny, the same as of old, with his half-
sheepish, half-impudent grin and his
shock of flaming hair, his upper lip
that was long even for an Irish boy's,
his roving and twinkling blue eyes,
his tip-tilted nose, his short, sturdy
physique.
"Faith," said O'Rourke, "the gods
are not so unkind after all! 'Tis as
welcome as the shadow of a great rock
In a weary land, the sight of ye,
Danny!" And "Danny!" he observed
with some severity, "I'll ask ye to ex-
plain what the divvle at all ye're do-
ing here."
Danny's assurance deserted him on
the instant. He had done his former
master a signal service that night, but
in his estimation nothing more than
was due the O'Rourke. Whatever he
felt, he looked to perfection a boy
caught at mischief—hanging his head
and eyeing O'Rourke under his brows,
shamefaced and 111 at ease.
"Aw!" he deprecated, "sure, now,
yer honor, now—"
"Danny," demanded O'Rourke stern-
ly, "does Miss Cleopatra here under-
stand English?"
"Divvle a word!" the ex-valet pro-
tested earnestly. "Beyond Greek and
French and Arabic, sure, she's ignor-
ant as Paddy's pig!"
h
Exhausted at He Was, the Irishman Struggled With Little Skill.
floor ran an inner gallery to which
steps led up from the court and from
which accesB was to be had to the liv-
ing rooms—all dark and silent
In the center of the courtyard a
little fountain tinkled, a tiny jet of
water rising from the central upright
of stone to spray the black, star-smit-
ten pool beneath. There was a little
plot of grass, likewise, with flowers
generous of their cordial perfume.
The girl came silently out from the
shadows beneath the gallery, bringing
him a cup and a Jar of earthenware
brimming with wine.
He accepted the service with a bow.
"Mademoiselle is as kind as she Is
beautiful!" said he, and with the ap-
preciation of a connoisseur first
watched her blush, then drained the
jug to Its last drop and felt the grate
ful fluid grapple with his fatigue, tem-
per It. and send new strength leaping
through his veins. "And as good. I'm
sure, as she Is kind," he added; and
So much was plainly evident from
the girl's manner and expression of
przzlement Reassured, O'Rourke pro-
ceeded :
" 'Tis good hearing. Faith, if she
understood the King's English, 'tis
me hair she would be tearing out by
the roots in one minute. Danny, I
gather that the lady Is be way of lik-
ing ye more than ye deserve. Is it
in love with you 6he is?"
Danny stole a sidelong glance at the
girl. "Beggln* yer honor's pardon." he
stammered, "and I belave she is that."
"Umm!" snorted O'Rourke. "And
what, if ye please, about poor Annie
Bragin, at home? Is It marrying a
Greek ye would be. and leaving poor
Annie to cry her eyes out for ye. ye
worthless scut?"
"Divvle a bit. respects to yer hon-
or! Sure, 'tis only for amusement—"
"And who may she be. that ye make
so free to amuse yourself with her?"
"The daughter av me partner, yer
honor, Noccovie, the Greek tofcaccy
merchant."
"This will be his house, then?"
"No. sir. but a—a sort av a store-
house, in a way av speaking. 'Tis Jist
'round th" corner they do be llvin' in
a gran' folne house, sir."
"Then what's the young lady doing
here?"
"Waiting for me to take her place,
sir. Noccovie is away and—and," in
a blurted confession, " 'tis a bit of
hashish smuggling we be doing on the
side. The stuff is always brought
here, sor; arid tonight's the night a
consignment's due."
"Ah-h!" observed O'Rourke darkly.
One by one, It seemed, he was gather-
ing the trumps again Into his own
hand. He resumed his catechism of
the boy.
"Danny, Is this the way a decent
man should be behaving himself?" he
browbeat him. "Is It your mother's
son and the sweetheart of Annie
Bragin that's become no more than an
idle breaker of hearts? Danny, Dan-
ny, what would Father Malachl be
saying If he could hear what ye've
just told me? Whin, boy. did ye con-
fess last?"
Danny cowered. "Aw, dear!" he
whimpered. "Aw, dearie dear! And
meself meant no harm at all!"
"Thin take your llght-o'-love home.
Danny, and come back to me here at
once with a change of clothes!"
"Yiss, yer honor. I'll do that, yer
honor. But will ye hark for the signal
at the door and let Cap'n Hole In?"
It was true, then!
"I will. But see that ye don't for-
get the change of clothes. Danny, and
don't be lingering too long over your
fond farewells with the lady, if ye're
not looking for a hiding, and—
Danny!"
"Yis. sor?"
"Have ye a revolver?"
"Here, sor."
"Give it here, and bring another
back with ye. Lively, now!"
Alone, O'Rourke seated himself on
the edge of the fountain and consid-
ered gravely the uncertainties of life.
" 'Tis fate," he concluded soberly, at
length. "And 'tis hard upon eleven
now. They will not dare to run that
cargo before midnight; and—meself
sorely needs a bath."
Deliberately he stripped off rags and
tatters and plunged lntr the fountain.
Danny was back with the promised
wearing apparel ere he had finished
splashing.
And while O'Rourke dressed, and for
long thereafter, the two sat and
smoked and confabulated, talked of
Men and Things and the turn of the
Wheel of the World.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
CUT RATE FOR AN AMERICAN
Judge Donnelly's Amusing Experience
With the Sharp Irish Cab
Driver in Dublin.
Chief Justice Joseph G. Donnelly ot
the civil court, in illustrating an Irish-
man's idea of wit, told a story of an
adventure with an Irish hack driver In
Dublin, relates the Milwaukee Wiscon-
sin.
"I asked him how much he would
take to drive me to Hotel he
said. "The driver looked at me and
said: 'You are from the states, aren't
you?' I answered yes.
" *WTell,' he said, 'since you are from
the states, and I've driven nothing but
Englishmen all day, I'll drive you to
the hotel for three shillings.'
"As I thought that was reasonable,
I got Into the hack. We drove on and
on for hours, over hills and across
streams, until we finally got to the
hotel. While driving, I wondered at
the difference between this back
driver and those in America, and won-
dered what an American hack driver
would say if 1 were to hand him three
shillings for such a long ride.
"I went to bed and slept sound that
night When I woke up early in the
morning, 1 went down and out on the
front steps. I almost fainted, for di-
rectly in front of the hotel was the
self-same depot that I arrived at on
the train. I suppose the hack driver
thought he was having a pile of fun
while driving me around the city and
country."
To the Manner Born.
Max Muller, the famous Sanskrit
scholar, was fond of recalling that he
had once seen Queen Victoria and the
Empress Eugenie enter a Paris thea-
ter together^, The audience cheered
itself hoarse; but what Interested Pro-
fessor Muller was the contrast in the
conduct of the two royalties.
Both bowed In answer to the plaud*
Its. and then sat down; but whereas
Eugenie glanced behind her, much
as you or I would do, to make sure of
the chair being there to receive her,
Victoria kept her eyes to the front,
and took the chair for granted.
That was the difference between
being born into the purple and mar-
rying Into it.—Youth's Companion.
Inexpensive.
"1 am thinking of going to Europ«
on a vacation."
"You are! 1 didn't know you had
that much money."
"I haven't, but, you see, It doesn't
cost anything to think ot goiug.'—
Lippincott'a.
Upcoming Pages
Here’s what’s next.
Search Inside
This issue can be searched. Note: Results may vary based on the legibility of text within the document.
Tools / Downloads
Get a copy of this page or view the extracted text.
Citing and Sharing
Basic information for referencing this web page. We also provide extended guidance on usage rights, references, copying or embedding.
Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
Parker, William H. & Parker, George C. The Foraker Sun. (Foraker, Okla.), Vol. 7, No. 3, Ed. 1 Friday, May 10, 1912, newspaper, May 10, 1912; Foraker, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc287265/m1/3/: accessed April 23, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.