How closely joy and sorrow tread on each other’s heels, how nearly they
touch each other!
Up at the splendid Bonair palace the music and dancing went on apace,
Lucile and Marie being all in ignorance of their brother’s proximity
and peril.
His presence in the theater had been unobserved, and none dreamed of
his return.
The splendid fête went on, and the music of the orchestra and the
sounds of flying feet drowned the shrieks of mortal peril that arose
from the bear pit.
It seemed as if Charley Bonair and Berenice Vining, both victims of
some mysterious enemy, must perish for want of a helping hand in this
hour of terrible danger.
It must have ended thus in speedy death, had not the tumult of the bear
pit been overheard at the small cottage near by, where the zoo keeper
and his wife made their home.
The woman, a lighter sleeper than the man, had been half aroused by the
sound of Berenice’s piercing shrieks.
She raised her head from the pillow and listened intently for a moment,
and cold chills of terror ran down her spine at the agony of those
fearful cries, as of one in mortal peril.
“Oh, surely there’s murder being done somewhere very close,” she
groaned aloud, and now thoroughly aroused, proceeded to shake her
husband awake.
“Wake up, wake up, Sam Cline; don’t lay there snoring like a pig, when
somebody’s getting killed, sure! Wake, wake, wake!” she exclaimed, and
to expedite the awakening, she sprinkled his face with cold water,
which soon had the desired effect.
“What’s broke loose Mandy, hey?” he exclaimed, in bewilderment, and she
answered:
“Sam, there’s been the most terrible screams coming up about the zoo,
and now I can hear everything there roused up and making the most
fearful din--enough to split your ears open. Listen, don’t you hear it
yourself?”
“I’d be stone-deaf sure if I didn’t hear all that racket! Suthin’
dreadful must ’a’ happened, sure! I’d better dress and go up and see!”
he answered, hurrying into his clothing.
“I’ll go with you,” declared Mandy, throwing on a wrapper, and
thrusting her bare feet into slippers, without more ado, they rushed in
the direction of the zoo, getting near enough when the shot was fired
down into the bear pit to see a tall, white figure running away in
breathless haste.
“Somebody’s trying to kill the bears, sure! I wonder what for, now!”
gasped Mandy, almost breathless with her speed.
“Run! run! let’s catch her, the wretch!” panted Sam Cline, but the
white figure, having the advance of them, seemed to fly like the wind,
and quickly disappeared from sight.
Meanwhile as they rushed on, amid the babel of varied animal sounds,
they came to the bear pit, and their further pursuit of the criminal
was arrested by hearing a human groan, mingled with the hoarse,
frightened growls of the brutes below.
How it all ended, Sam Cline related in his own words somewhat later,
when he carried the news up to Bonair, calling Mrs. Fortescue out for
the purpose.
“Land sakes, ma’am, a terrible thing has happened down to the bear
pit,” he began excitedly. “Mandy and me was woke up by awful screams
from down to the zoo, and then all the birds and beasts got scared,
and sech a racket was never heard before, I reckon!--leastwise in the
hour of midnight, when everything is s’posed to be still and asleep.
Well, wife and I rushed out as fast as we could to the scene, and next
thing, zip--bang! went off a pistol right in front of Zilla’s pit, and
we saw a woman all in white running away like mad! We gave chase, but
she had the start of us too far, and disappeared in the shrubbery jest
as we got to the pit, and heard a terrible groaning that made us stop
to investigate.” He paused for breath in his rapid narration, and the
handsome old woman shuddered with prescient dread.
“Go on, go on!”
Sam Cline cleared his throat, and continued:
“We peered down into the bear pit--and, oh, what a sight was there,
ma’am! All the bears in an uproar with fright and excitement, and in
the midst of it all two people, a man and a woman, as we could see by
her white dress. Well, we called to the bears, and they quieted down,
knowing our voices so well, and then, I swear to gracious! I nearly
jumped out of my skin with surprise, for a voice called out to me that
I know as well as I know my own, and said, with a groan:
“‘Sam Cline, for Heaven’s sake, open the door and let us out of this
den.’”
“A voice you knew?” repeated Mrs. Fortescue questioningly, but the man
hurried on, in a voice broken by excitement:
“You may be sure that Mandy and I obeyed him fast enough, ma’am, and
found out when we got in the pit that the man had been shot in the
shoulder, and that the woman with him was apparently dead.”
“This is terrible!” shuddered Mrs. Fortescue.
“I should say so, indeed, ma’am,” answered Sam Cline, continuing. “The
man told me he heard screams from the pit, and running to it, saw the
woman being beaten to death by Zilla. He jumped down to her rescue,
but just as he got the bear subdued, somebody fired down at him, and
the ball went through his shoulder. He sank down with the pain, and
grew weak with the blood spurting from the wound, just as we discovered
him. Well, to make my story short, I tore off my shirt and bandaged
his wound, Mandy fighting off the bears that went wild at smelling
the blood. Then I took the dead woman in my arms, and Mandy led the
half-swooning man, and so we got them to my cottage, and I telephoned
for a doctor as soon as I could, and next thing, I posted up here to
break the news to you and the young ladies about their brother.”
“Their brother!” exclaimed the old lady wonderingly, and he answered
quickly:
“Yes, ma’am, their own brother, Mr. Charley Bonair, shot through the
shoulder, and so upset by all he went through in the pit, that as soon
as we got him in my house he fell down by the couch, where I laid the
dead woman, and swooned with excitement, so I just left Mandy to
revive him while I telephoned the doctor to come, and posted off up
here.”
Mrs. Fortescue, pale and trembling, cried faintly:
“Are you sure you have not made a mistake, Sam Cline? My nephew is not
even in San Francisco!”
“He landed from the yacht early yesterday evening, ma’am--he told me
so--but he had not spoken to his sisters yet. He was in the grounds,
coming home, I suppose, when he heard the shrieks from the pit, and ran
to the lady’s assistance,” explained Sam Cline quickly.
“And the lady? Did you know her, Sam?”
“Not her name, ma’am, but her face. She was that pretty little actress
that played in the theater here last night. I knew her again as soon as
I clapped eyes on her face, but I don’t know as I ever heard her name.”
“This is wonderful, mysterious!” cried the lady. “Oh, what shall I do?
It seems too bad to break up the ball with this shocking news, but
there seems nothing else to do.”
Sam Cline hesitated, then said humbly:
“If I might make so bold as to advise you, ma’am, I’d say let the ball
go on, because it won’t last much longer, anyway, I guess, and see Mr.
Bonair yourself before you alarm his sisters.”
“I believe you are right, Sam; I hate to stir up a panic in the
ballroom if I can avoid it. Wait outside for me till I get a wrap, and
I will go with you to the cottage and see Charley.”
If she had cherished the least doubt of it being her nephew, she soon
had proof of it on reaching the keeper’s cottage, for Mrs. Cline had
succeeded in reviving the patient, and he lay pale and nervous on a
narrow cot in the same room where they had placed the seemingly dead
actress upon a neat white bed.
“Charley, dear, this is terrible!” the lady cried, sinking down on her
knees and kissing his pallid brow, damp with the dew of pain.
He took the kiss impatiently, crying fervently:
“Aunt Florence, do not think about me! I’m all right, sure!--see about
that poor girl over there, please! Is she really dead, or only in a
very deep swoon? By Heaven, if Zilla has killed her, I’ll put the brute
to torture, I’ll burn her at the stake!”
He ended with a groan of commingled fury and stifled pain, and just
then there came a loud rap upon the door. The physician had fortunately
arrived.