Cowardice 
Court 
By 
GEORGE BARR M’CUTCHEON 
Cepyright. 1906. Dodd Mead & Ce. 
(CONTINUED. ] 
A terrified exclamation started to her 
lips. Her ears again caught the sound 
of some one moving in the house— 
some alien visitor. There was no mis- 
taking the sound—the distant, sepulch- 
ral laugh and the shuffling of feet, al- 
most at the edge of the couch, it 
seemed. 
“Randolph!” she whispered hoarsely. 
The man in the chair did not move. 
She threw off the blanket and came to 
a sitting posture on the side of the 
couch, her fingers clutching the cover- 
ing with tense horror. Again the soft, 
rumbling laugh and the sound of foot- 
steps on the stairway. Like a flash she 
sped across the room and clutched 
frantically at Randolph’s shoulders. 
He awoke with an exclamation, star- 
ing bewildered into the horrified face 
above. 
“The—the ghost!" she gasped, her 
eyes glued upon the hall door. He 
leaped to his feet and threw his arms 
about her. 
“You've had a bad dream,” he said. 
“What a ‘east | was to fall asleep. 
Lord, you're frightened half out of 
your wits. Don’t tremble so, dearest. 
There’s no ghost. Every one knows’’— 
“Listen—listen!” she whispered. To 
gether they stood motionless, almost 
breathless before the fire, the glow 
from which threw their shadows across 
the room to meet the mysterious in- 
vader. 
“Good Lord.” he muttered, unwilling - 
to believe his ears ‘There is: some 
one in the house. I’ve—I’ve heard 
sounds here before, but not like these.”' 
Distinctly to their startled ears came 
the low, subdued murmur of a human 
voice and then uninistakable moans 
from the very .depth -of: the parth 
from the grave,: it seenied.- 
“Do you hear?! she whispered. - 
this dreadful place! 
Randolph, dear”’— 
“Don't be afraid,” be said, drawing 
her close “There’s nothing super- 
natural about those sounds. They 
come from lips as much alive as ours 
I'll investigate." He grabbed the heavy 
poker from the chimney corner and 
started toward the door. She followed 
Take me away. 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
close behind, his aS8surance restoring 
in a measure the courage that had 
temporarily deserted her 
In the hallway they paused to look 
out over the broad porch. The storm 
had died away, sighing its own re 
quiem in the misty treetops. Dawn 
was not far away. A thick fog was 
rising to meet the first glance of day. 
In surprise Shaw looked at his watch, 
her face at his shoulder It was after 
5 o’clock 
“Ghosts turn in at midnight, dear,” 
he said, with a cheerful smile. “They 
don’t keep such hours as these.” 
“But who can it be? There are no 
tramps inp the mountains,” she pro- 
tested. glancing over her shoulder ap- 
prehensively. 
“Listen! By Jove, that voice came 
from the cellar.” 
“And the lock is broken,” she ex- 
claimed “But how silly of me! 
Ghosts don’t stop for locks.” 
“I'll drop .the bolts just the same,” 
he said as they hurried down the hall- 
way. At the back stairs they stopped 
and listened for many minutes. Nota 
sound came up to them from below. 
Softly he closed the door and lowered 
two heavy bars into place. “If there’s 
any one down there they probably 
think they’ve heard spooks trotting 
around up here.” 
“Really, it’s quite thrilling, isn’t it? 
she whispered in her excitement. 
“In any event we're obliged to re- 
main under cover until they depart,” 
he said thoughtfully. “We can’t be 
seep here, dearest.” 
“No,” she murmured, 
though it is our house.” 
They returned -to the big room as 
softly as mice, and he left her a mo- 
ment later to close the heavy window 
shutters on the porch. When he re- 
turned there was a grim smile on his 
face and his voice shook a little as he 
spoke. 
“T’ve heard the voices again. They 
came from the laundry, | think. The 
Renwoods were downright Yankees, 
Penelope. 1! will swear that these 
voices are amazingly English.” 
“not even 
CHAPTER Ix. 
in Which the Author Trespasses. 
HIS narrative has quite as much 
to do with the Bazelhurst side 
of the controversy as it has 
with Shaw’s. It is therefore 
but fair that the heroic invasion by 
Lord Cecil should receive equal consid- 
eration from the historian. Shaw’s 
conquest of one member of the force 
opposing him was scarcely the result 
of bravery; on the other hand Lord 
Cecil’s dash into the enemy’s country 
was the very acme of intrepidity. 
Down the drive and out into the 
mountain road clattered the three 
horsemen. Lady Bazelburst, watching 
at the window casement. almost 
swooned with amazement at the sight 
of them. The capes of their mackin- 
a 
toshes seemed to flaunt a satirical fare- 
well in her face; their owners, follov 
ing the light of the carriage lamps 
swept from view around a bend in the 
road and bravely plunged into the dark 
territory over which the enemy ruled 
It was the duke who finally broug! | 
the cavalcade to a halt by propounding 
@ most sensible question, 
“Are you sure she came this way, 
Cecil ?”’ 
“Certainly 
isn’t it?” 
“Did she say she was going to 
Shaw’s?” 
“Don’t kn. w. Hvelyn told me. Hang 
it all, Barminster, come along. We’ll 
never catch up to her.” 
“Is she riding?” 
“‘No—borses all in.” 
“Do you know, we may have passed 
her. Deuce take it, Bazelhurst, if she’s 
running away from as, you don’t 
imagine she’d be such a silly fool as to 
stand in the road and wait for us. [f 
she heard us she’d hide among the 
trees.” 
“But she’s had an bour’s start of us.” 
“Where ees she coming to?” asked 
the count, with an anxious glance up- 
ward, just in time to catch a skirmish. 
ing raindrop with his eye. 
“That’s just it. We don’t know,” 
said the duke. 
“But | must find her!” cried Lord 
Cecil. “Think of that poor girl alone 
in this terrible place, storm coming up 
and all that. Hi, Penelope!” he shout- 
ed in his most vociferous treble. The 
shrieking wind replied. Then the three 
of them shouted her name. “Gad, she 
may be lost or dead or— Come on, Bar- 
minster. We must scour the whole 
demmed valley.” 
“He’s like a wildcat tonight,” said 
the duke in an aside to the little 
Frenchman, referring to his lordship. 
“Demme, I[’d rather not cross him. 
You seem to forget that his sister is 
out in all this fury.” 
“Mon Dieu, but | do not forget. I 
would give half my life to hold her in 
my arms thees eenstan’.” 
“Dem you, sir, I’d give her the other 
half if you dared try such a thing. We 
didn’t fetch you along to hold her. 
You’ve got to bold the horses, that’s 
all.” 
“Diable! How dare you to speak to”— 
“What are you two rowing about?” 
demanded his lordship. “Come along! 
We’re losing time.” 
Away they swept, Penelope’s two ad- 
mirers wrathfully barking at one an- 
other about satisfaction at some future 
hour. 
The storm burst upon them in all its 
fury—the maddest, wildest storm they 
had known in all their lives. Terrt- 
fied, half drowned, blown almost from 
the saddles, the trio tinally found 
shelter in the lee of a shelying cliff 
just off the road. While they stood 
This is Shaw’s way 
there shivering, clutching the bits of 
nigh frantic horses the 
their well 
