Cowardice 
Cou rt 
By 
GEORGE BARR M’CUTCHEON 
Cepyright. 196. Dodd Mead & Co. 
[CONTINUED. } 
Peering through the door they saw 
for the first time the many lights in 
Shaw’s windows, scarce a quarter of 
a mile away For a long time they 
stood and gazed at the distant win- 
dows. Dejectedly they sat down, backs 
to the wall and waited for the storm 
to spend its fury. Wet, cold and tired, 
they finally dozed. I[t was Lord Cecil 
who first saw the signs of dawn. The 
rain storm had come to a mysterious 
end. but a heavy fog in its stead !oom- 
ed-up.. He aroused his companions 
and with many groans of anguish they 
prepared to venture forth into the 
white wall beyond 
Just as they were taking a last look 
about the wretched cellar something 
happened that would have brought ter- 
ror to the stoutest heart. A wild, ap- 
palling shriek came from somewhere 
above, the cry of a mortal soul in 
agony. 
The next instant three human forms 
shot through the narrow door and out 
into the fog. hair on end, eyes bulging, 
but sightless; legs traveling like the 
wind and as purposeless. It mattered 
not that the way was hidden; it mat- 
tered less that weeds, brush and 
stumps lurked in ambush for unwary 
feet. They fled into the foggy dan- 
gers without a thought of what lay 
before them. only of what stalked be- 
hind them. 
Upstairs Randolph Shaw lay back 
against the wall and shook with laugh- 
ter. Penelope’s convulsed face was 
glued to the kitchen window, her eyes 
peering into the fog beyond. Shadowy 
figures leaped into the white mantle; 
the crash of brush came back to her 
ears, and then. like the barking of a 
dog. there arose from the mystic gray 
the fast diminishing cry: 
“Help! Help! Help!" Growing 
fainter and sharper, the cry at last 
was lost in the phantom desert. 
They stood at the window and 
watched the fog lift. gray and forbid- 
ding, until the trees and road were 
discernible Then arm in arm they 
set forth across the wet way toward 
Shaw’s cottage. 
“Poor Cecil!” she sighed. “It was 
eruel of you" Ip the roadway they 
found a hat which she at once identt- 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
fied as the count’s. Farther on there 
was a carriage lamp and later a mack- 
intosh, which had been cast aside as 
an impediment. “Oh, it was cruel!” 
She smiled. however, in retrospection. 
“If I were only sure that nothing 
serious had happened to Cecil,” she 
murmured anxiously 
“I’m sorry, dear, for that screech of 
mine,” he apologized. 
Suddenly he started and gazed in- 
tently in the direction of the haunted 
house. A man—a sorry figure—was 
slowly, painfully approaching from the 
edge of the wood scarce a hundred 
yards away. In his hand he carried a 
stick to which was attached a white 
eloth—doubtless a handkerchief de 
was hatless and limped perceptibly. 
“Tt’s Cecil!’ whispered Penelope in 
horror struck tones ‘Good heaven, 
Randolph, go. to him! He is hurt.” 
It. was Lord. Bazelhurst. As Shaw 
hurried down the drive to meet him, ao 
thought of the feud in mind, two be- 
ings even more hopelessly dilapidated 
ventured from the wood and hobbled 
ap behind the truce bearer, who had 
now paused to lift his shoulders into a 
position of dignity and defiance. 
Shaw’s heart was touched. The spec- 
tacle was enough to melt the prejudice 
of any adversary Lord Cecil’s knees 
trembled His hand shook as if in a 
chill Mud covered, water soaked and 
bruised, their clothes rent in many 
places, their hats gone and their hair . 
matted, their legs wabbly, the trio cer: 
tainly inspired pity, not mirth oor 
scorn. 
“One moment, sir,” called his tord- 
ship, with a feeble attempt at severity. 
His voice was hoarse and shaky. “We 
do not come as friends, dem you. {# 
my sister here?” 
“She is, Lord Bazelhurst. We’ll talk 
this over later on,” said Shaw in bis 
friendliest way “You are worn out 
and done up. I'm sure—you and your 
friends. Come; I’m not as bad as you 
think. I’ve changed my mind since lL 
saw you last. Let’s see if we can’t 
come to an amicable understanding. 
Miss Drake is waiting up there. Break- 
fast soon will be ready—hot coffee and 
all that. Permit me, gentlemen, to in- 
vite you to partake of what we have. 
What say you?” 
“Confound you, sir! 1—I”’— But his 
brave effort failed him. He staggered 
and would have fallen had not the 
duke caught him from behind. 
“Thanks, old chap,” said Barminster 
to Shaw. “We will come in for a mo- 
ment. | say, perhaps you could give 
us a dry dud or two. Bazelhurst is in 
a bad way, and soisthe count. It was 
a devil of a storm.” 
Penelope came down from the porch 
to meet them Without a word she 
took her brother’s arm He stared at 
her with growing resentment. 
“Dem it all, Pen.” he chattered, 
“you’re not at all wet, are you? Look 
at me! All on your account too.” 
“Dear old Cecil: All on Bvelyn’s ac- 
count, you mean.” she said softly, wist 
+ 
fully. 
“J ghall have an understanding with 
her when we get home.” he said ear- 
nestly. “She start oes omy. sister 
like this again 
“No,” said Shaw ftrow the other sides 
“she shan’t.”’ 
“By Jove, Shaw, are you with me?” 
demanded his lordship in surprise. 
“Depends on whether you are with 
me,” said the other. Penelope flushed. 
Hot coffee, chops, griddle cakes and 
maple sirup soon put the contending 
forces at their ease. Bazelburst so far 
forgot himself as to laugh amiably at 
his host’s jokes. The count responded 
in his most piquant dialect, and the 
duke swore by an ever useful Lord 
Harry that he had never tasted such 
a breakfast. 
“By Jove, Pen,” exclaimed her broth- 
er in rare good humor, “it’s almost a 
sin to take you away from such guod 
cooking as this.” 
“You’re not going to take her away, 
however,’ said Shaw. “She has come 
to stay.” 
““What—what the devil do you mean, 
sir?’ demanded Lord Cecil, his coffee 
cup shaking so violently that the con- 
tents overflowed. 
“She’s going over to Plattsburg with 
me today, and when she comes back 
“When she comes back she will be Mrs. 
Randolph Shaw.” 
she will be Mrs. Randolph Shaw. 
That’s what I mean, your lordship.” 
Three of his Hsteners choked with 
amazement and then coughed painful- 
ly. Feebly they set their cups down 
and gulped as if they bad something 
to swallow. The duke was the first to 
