ST. IVES.
THE ADVENTURES OF A FRENCH PRISONER IN ENGLAND.
Author of "Treasure Island," "Kidnapped," etc.
BEGUN IN THE MARCH NUMBER—SUMMARY OF EARLIER CHAPTERS.
Viscount Anne de St. Ives, under the name of Champdivers, while held a prisoner of war in Edinburgh Castle, attracts the attention and sympathy of an aristocratic Scotch maiden, Flora Gilchrist, who, out of curiosity, visits the prisoners, attended by her brother Ronald. On her account St. Ives kills a comrade, Goguelat, in a duel, fought secretly in the night, with the divided blades of a pair of scissors. An officer of the prison, Major Chevenix, with whom St. Ives is in social relations, discovers the secret of the duel and of St. Ives's interest in the young lady; and while at present he respects it, there are intimations that it might be in safer keeping. St. Ives is visited by Daniel Romaine, the solicitor of his rich uncle, the Count de Keroual, and learns that his cousin, Alain de St. Ives, hitherto regarded as the uncle's heir, is out of favor. Romaine gives him money; urges him, if possible, to escape from prison, in order to pay his uncle, now near dying, a visit; and advises that, in his flight, he make his way to one Burchell Fenn, who may serve him. The escape is soon after made, in company with a number of comrades. St. Ives steals out to Swanston Cottage, where Flora Gilchrist and her brother live with an aunt. They befriend and conceal him; but he is discovered by the aunt, and thus suffers a check in his addresses to the niece. He so far ingratiates himself with the aunt, however, that she helps him to escape across the border, under the guidance of a pair of drovers. In England he takes to the Great North Road, to make his way by address and audacity as best he can.
CHAPTER XII.
I FOLLOW A COVERED CART NEARLY TO MY DESTINATION.
AT last I began to draw near, by reasonable stages, to the neighborhood of Wakefield; and the name of Mr. Burchell Fenn came to the top in my memory. This was the gentleman (the reader may remember) who made a trade of forwarding the escape of French prisoners. How he did so: whether he had a signboard, Escapes forwarded, apply within; what he charged for his services, or whether they were gratuitous and charitable, were all matters of which I was at once ignorant and extremely curious. Thanks to my proficiency in English, and Mr. Romaine's bank-notes, I was getting on swimmingly without him; but the trouble was that I could not be easy till I had come at the bottom of these mysteries, and it was my difficulty that I knew nothing of him beyond the name. I knew not his trade—beyond that of Forwarder of Escapes—whether he lived in town or country, whether he were rich or poor, nor by what kind of address I was to gain his confidence. It would have a very bad appearance to go along the highway-side asking after a man of whom I could give so scanty an account; and I should look like a fool, indeed, if I were to present myself at his door and find the police in occupation! The interest of the conundrum, however, tempted me, and I
Copyright, 1897, by the S. S. McClure Co., New York.
