Bemidji Daily Pioneer Newspaper, March 18, 1922, Page 2

| | | ! | { i PAGE TWO = ~ THE BEMIDJI DAILY PIONEER ™ SR = Gopyright by Edwin Balmer~ . (Continued from last issue) CHAPTER X. A Caller. i As the first of the month was ap- proaching, Wassaquam had brought /his household bills and budget to Alan that morning directly after breakfast. /To furnish Alan with whatever sums ihe needed, Sherrill had made a consid- erable deposit in Alan's name in the bank where he carried his own uac- eount ; and Alan had accompanied Sher- rill to the bank to be introduced and had signed the necessary cards in or- der to check against the deposit. Alan had required barely half of the hundred dollars” which Benjamin Cor- vet had sent to Plue Rapids, for his expenses in Chicago; and he had brought with him from “home” a hun- dred dollars of his own. The amount which Wassaquam now desired to pay the bills was much more than Alau had on band; but that amount was also much less than the eleven hundred dollars which the serv- ant listed as cash on hand. This, Was- saquam stated, was In currency and kept by him. Benjamin always had hiad him keep that much in the house; Wassaquam would not touch that sum now for the payment of current ex- penses. On the first of the month, therefore, Alan drew upon his new bank account to Wassaquam’s order, and In the early ufternoon Wa unm went to the hank to cash his check—one of the very few occasions when Alan had been left in the house alone; Wassa- quam’s habit, it appeared, was to g0 about on the first of the month and pay the tradesmen in person. Some two hours later, and before Wassaquam could have been expected back, Alan, in the room which had be- come his, was startled by a sound of Beavy. pounding, which cume suddenly to him from a floor belo heavy, thick, and unintel gled Wwith the pounding. He ran swift- 1y down the stairs, then on and down the service stairs Into the busesnent. Fhe door to the house from the area- wauy was shaking to irregular, heavy blows, which stopped as Alan reached the lower hallway; the shouts contin- aed still a moment more. Now that the noise of pounding did not inter- fere, Alun could make out what the man was saying. “Ben Corvet!"— the name was almost unintelligible— “Ben Corvet! Ben!” Then the shouts stopped, too. Alan sped to the door and turned back the lateh, The door bore back upon him, not from a push, but from K3 welght without which had fallen against It. A big, heavy man, with a rough cap and mackinaw coat, would have fallen upon the floor it Alan had ‘not eaught bim. His weight in Alan’s arms was so dull, so inert, that, if vio- ‘Jence had heen his intention, there was nothing to he feared from him now. Alan looked up, therefore, to see if any one had come with him. The alley and the street were clear. "The snow in the areaway showed that the man had come to the door alone and with grent difficulty ; he had fallen once up- ion the walk. Alan dragged the man into the house and went back and closed the door. He returned and looked at him. The man was like, very like the ont whom Alan had followed from the house on the night when he was attacked; cer- tainty that this was the same man came quickly to him. He seijed the fellow again and dragged him up the {stairs and to the lounge in the 1ibrary. “He was, or had been, a very jmwerful ‘man, broad and thick through with overdeveloped — almost distmrting— muscles in his shoulders; but Ais bod. had become fat and soft, his ff.ce was puffed and his eyes watery and brilght ; ‘his brawn hair, which was shot all through with gray, was dirty and mat- ,ted; he had three or four days’ growth of beard. When he sat up and looked ;about It was plain that whisky was only one of the forces working upon {hlin—the other was fever Avhich burped up and sustained him infermit- + tently. g “'Lo!" he greeted Alan. ‘*‘Vhere's .shat d—n Injin, hey? I knkw Ben I Corvet was shere—knew he vris shere tall time. 'Course he's shere he got ito be shere. That's shright. You ge | get 'im!1” “Who are you?" Aian asked. i "Say, who'r you? What t’heils syou doin’ here? Never see you. before .+ . Bo—xgo get Ben Corvet. Jus® say Ben Cprvet, Lu~—luke’s slfere. Ben "Corvel’ll Roow Lu—luke all right; al- waysh, alwaysh knows me. . . .” “What’s the matter with you?’ Alan had drawn. back but now went to ,the man again. The first idea that this tmight have beon merely some old sail- or. who had served Benjamin Corvet dr, perhaps, had been a comrade in the earlier days, had been banished by the confident arrogance of the ‘man's- tone—an arrogance not: to, be explained, entirely, by whisky or'by the fever. i “How long have you'been this way?” anded. (*Where 2id ' which was that Luk | From?# Fie put his Tand on Thie wrist | then. it was very hot and dry; the pulse was racing, irregular; at seconds it seemed to stop; for other seconds it was continuous. The fellow coughed and bent forward. “What js 1t— pneumonia?’ Alau tried to straighten him up. “GP’ me drink! . o . Go get Ben Corvet, I tell you! , . . Get Ben Corvet quick! Say—yous shear? You get me Ben Corvet; you better get Pen Corvet; you tell him Lu—uke’s here; won't waft any more goin® t'have my money now . . . sright away, your shear? Kick me out s'loon; I guess not no more. Ben Corvet give me all money I want or I talk!” “Talk!” = “Syou know it! Taln't goin’ . . » Ile choked np and tottered back; Alan, supperting him, laid him down and stayed beside him until his cough- ing and choking ceased, and there was only the rattling rasp of his breathing. When Alan spoke to him again, Luke's eyes opened, and he narrated recent experiences bitterly; all were blamed to Ben Corvet's absenco; Luke, who had been drinking heavily a few nights before, had been thrown out when the saloon was closed: that was Ben Corvet's fault; if Ben Corvet had been around, Luke would have had money, all the money any one wanted; no one would have thrown out Luke Luke slept in the snow, all wet. When he arose, the saloon was open again, and he got more whisky, but not enough to get him warm. He hadn't been warm since. That was Ben Cor- vet's fault. Ben Corvet better be round now; Luke wouldn't stand any niore. Alan felt of the pulse again; he opened the coat and under-flannels’| and felt the heaving chest. Ie went to the hall and looked in the telephone director Ile remembered the name of the druggist on the corner of Clark street and he telephoned him, giving the number on Astor street. “I want a doctor right. away,” he sald. “Any good doctor; the one that you ean get quickest.” The druggist promised that a physician would De there within a quarter of an hour. Alan went buck to Luke, who was silent now except for the gasp of his breath; he did not answer when-Alan spoke to him, except to ask for whis- ky. Alan stood watching, a strange, sinking tremor shaking him. This man had come there to make a claim | —-a claim which many times before, apparently, Benjamin Corvet had ad- mitted. Luke came to Ben Corvet for money which he always got—all he wanted—the alternative to giving e would “talk.” Blackmail, that n nt, of course; Wlackmall which not only Luke had | told of hut which Wassaquam too had admitted, as Alan now realized. Money for blackmall—that was the reason for that thousand dollars in cash which Benjamin Corvet always kept at the house, n turned with a sudden shiver of revulsion toward his father's chair In place before the hearth; there for hours each day his father had sat with a book or staring into the fire always with what. this man knew bhanging over him, always arming against It with the thousand dollars for this man, whenever he came. Meating biackmail, paying blackmail for as long as Wassaquam had heen in the house, for as long as it took to make the once muscular powerful fig- ure of the sailor who threatened to “talk” into the swollen whisky-sonked hullc of the man dying now on the lounge. F¥or his state that day the man blamed Benjamin Corvet. Alan, fore- ing himself to touch the swollen face, shuddered at thought of the truth un- derlying that accusation. Benjamin Corvet's act—whatever it might be that this man knew—undoubtedly had destroyed not only him who paid the blackmail but him “who received it; the effect of that act was still golng on, destroying, blighting. Its threat of shame was not only against Benjamin | Corvet; it threatened also all whose | names must be connectgd with Cor: vet's. This shame threntened Alan; it threatened also the Sherrills, What Sherrill had told Alan and ‘even Cor- vet's gifts to him had not been able ! to make Alan feel that without ques- | tlon Corvet was his father, but now | shame and horror were making him fecl it; In horror at Corvet's act— whatever it might be—and jn shame at Covert's cowardice, Alan was think- | ing of Benjamin, Corvet as his father. This shame, this horfror were his n- heritance. i He left Luke and went to the win- | dow to see if the doctor was comlng. | He haq called the doctor because in his | first sight of Luke he had not r(-v:m;-l nized that Luke was beyond the ald! of doctors and because to summon a | | can you tell? Listen! | there. | had told her of what was going on— Re would, at least, want the chance to determine the circumstances under | which It was to be made public, He hurried back to Luke. “What 1s it, Luke?” he cried to him. *“What Luke—Luke, | 1s it about the Miwaka—the Miwaka? Luke!” Luke had sunk into a stupor; Alan ! #hook him and shouted in his ear ‘without awakening response. As Alanp straighteneq and stood hopelessly look- ing down ‘at ‘him, the telephone belk rung ' sharply. Constance Sherrill’a volce came to him; her first words made jt clear that she was at’home and had just come in. “The servants tell me some one was making a disturbance beside your bouse a while ago,” she sald, “and shouting something about Mr. Corvet. Is there something wrong there? Have you discovered something?" He shook excitedly while, holding ; his hand over the transmitter lest Luke should break out again and she Luke!” should hear it, he wondered what he should say to her. “Please don't ask me just now, Miss Sherrill,” he managed. “I'll tell you what I can—later.” His reply, he recognized, only made her more certain that there was some- thing the matter, but he could not add anything to it. He found Luke, when be went back to him, still in coma; the bloodshot velns stood out agaiust the ghastly grayness of his face, and his stertorous breathing sounded through the rooms, < s o+ o« s s = €onstance Sherrfll had come in a ! few moments before from an. after- | noon reception; the servants teed her at once that something was happeuing at Mr., Corvet’s. They had heard shouts and had seen a man pounding upon the daor there, but they had not taken it upon themselves to go over She had told the chauffeur to wait with the motor and had run at once to the telephone and called Alan; his attempt to put her off made her certain that what had ‘happened was not finished but was still going om. Tfer anxiety and the sense of their re- sponsibility for Alan overrode at once 1 other thought. “She told the serv- ants to eall her father at the office | and tell him something was wrong at Mr. Corvet's; then she called her mafd and hurried out to the motor. “To Mr. Corvet's—quickly!” she di- rected. | Looking through the front doors of ! her ear as it turned Into Astor street, | she saw a young man, carrying a doe- tor's case, run up the steps of Cnr-} vet's house. Constance recognized Bim as a young doctor who was start- ing In practice In the neighborhood. He was just being admitted as sne and her maid renched the steps. Alan stood holding the door open and yet block- ing entrance when sghe came up. “Yon must not come in!” he denfed Ner; but she followed the doctor so that Alan could not close the door upon her. He yielded then, and she and her maid went on into the hall. She started as she saw the figure upon the couch in the library, and as the sound of its heavy breathing reached her; and the wild fancy which had come to her when the servants n faney that Uncle Benny had come back——was banished instantly. Alan led her into the room across from the library. “You shouldnt have come n” he sald. “I shouldn’t have let you in; but—you saw him.” ABR |l‘.6ne!, 70 You Tef mé ge, you &—n Ilint” , . | Through the doorway to the library they could see the doctor force Luke back upon the couch: Luke fought-him furionsly; then, suddenly as he had stirred to strength and fury, ‘Luke col- lapsed again. His voice went on & moment more, and rapidly growing ‘weaker: . “You tell Ben Corvet I want my money, or Ill tell. He knows what Il tell. . . .You don’t know, you Injin devil. . . . Ben Corvet knows, and I know. . . . Tell him TNl tell oo TN tell .. TH tel!” The threatening voice stopped suddenly. Constance, very pale, again faced Alan. “Of course, I understand,” she sald. “Uncle Benny has been paying blackmail to this man. For years, per- haps. . . .” She repeated the word after an instant, in a frightened voice, “Blackmail I” “Won't you please go, Miss Sher- rill? Alan urged her. “It was good u to come; but you mustn’t stay He's—hes dying, of course.” She seated herself upon a chalr. “I'm going to stay with you,” she said sioply. It was not, she knew, to share the waiting for the man In the next room to die; in that, of itself, there could be nothing for him te feel. It was to be with him while realization which had come to her was settling wpon him, too—reulization of what this meant to him. He was realizing that, she thought; he had realized it; it made bim. at moments, forget her while, listening for sounds from the other room, he paced hack and forth beside the table or stoed staring away, clinging to the portieres. He left her presently, and went across the hall to the doctor. “Is he dead?” Constance heard him ot yet,” the doctor answered ; “but it won't be long, now.” “There’s nothing you can do to make him talk—bring him to himself long enough so that he will téll what he keeps threatening to tell?” doctor shrugged. “How many times, do you suppose, he's been drunk and still not told? Concealment is his lished habit now. It’s an inhibi- en in wandering, he stops short Iy telling anything.” Alan came back to Constance. Out- side, the gray of dusk was spreading, and within the house it had grown dark. It was very quiet in the library; she could not even hear Luke’s breath- ing now. Then the doctor camne out to them. “It's ove ” he said to Alan. “There’s a law covering these cases; yon may not be familiar with it. I'll make out the death certiticate—pnenmonia and a weak heart with alcoholism. But the police have to be notified at once; you have no choice as to that. Il look after those things for you, If you want,” “Thank you; if you will.” Alan went with the doctor to the door and saw him drive away. Returning, he drew the library portieres; then, coming buck to Constance, he picked up her muft and collar from.the chair where she had thrown them, and held them out to her. “You'll go now, Miss Sherrill’ he said. “Indeed,s you mustn’t stay ‘here —your car’s still waiting, and—you mustn't, stay here . . . jn this house!” “Won't you come over home with me” she said, “and wait for father there till we can think this thing out together?” : Her sweetnéss almost broke him down. “This . . . together! . Think this out! O, it's plain enough, isn’t it? For yenrs—for as long as Wassa- quam has been here, my father has been seeing that man _and paying blackmail to him twice a year, at least! He lived in that man's power. He kept money in the house for him always! It sw't anything imaginary that hung over my father—or anything created in his own mind. It was some- thing real—real; it was disgrace—dis- grace and worse—something he de- served; and that he fought with black- mail money, like a coward! Dishonor —cowardice—blackmail i’ (Continued in Next issue) . NEW ORLEANS OF LONG AGO Pleasant Picture of Beautiful Southern City in the Days Before the Civil War. New Orleans at that period was filled with gay, animated, Krench- speaking thirongs, suys the Yale Re- view, telling of the long ngo in the Crescent ¢ity. Slaves were as numer- ous us they had been in the old home. The shop windows on Royal and Char- tres screets had nothing to fear in -comparigon with the glittering streets of Saint Piere. Fashions, luxuries, bon- “Yos bons, liqueurs, hooks, pictures and jew- She o R o ] ) .,2" ml)‘";)‘ L“hm‘fl ok her head. -elry were displayed with the snme'iure s n‘ D "P : :_nsco "‘lr[ w,:& {confidence of purchasers here as there. fim{ E\eu IoRySneve 0 him D& K. \What is called today the “Vieux “Nos* b “nrve” was then the eity. It was “ " oy bPcompactly built with solid brick His ‘name 13 Luke—he speaks/iof K houses,” whose . iron-railed balconies himself; by that name. Did you ever hear ‘Tny father mention a man named Luke?” iy “No: never.” i Luke’s volce cut suddenly their con- versation; the doctor probably had | given him some stimulant. “Where'sh Ben Corvet?” Luke de- manded . arrogantly of the doctor. “You go get Ben Corvet! Tell Ben ' Corvet I want drink right away., Tell Ben Corvet I want my thousan’ dol- lar . . .M Constance turned swiftly to her mald. “Go out to the car and wuit for me,” she commanded. doctor under such clrcumstances was | the right thing to do; but he had| thought of the doctor also as a. wit- ness to anything Luke might say. But | now—did he want a witness? He had | no thought of concealing anything for his own_sal r.his father's: but Luke’s muffied, heavy voice went ot moments while he fought for bre: interrupted it. } “You hear.ne, you d—n Injin! . . You go tell Ben Corvet I want my" thousan’ dollars, or I make it two nex' timel. You hear mes you go_tell Ben with their garlands of filigree work ex- tended over the ‘banquet; whose. court- yards with great gates, then as now wide open; showed the Juxuriant trop- ical folinge of their se¢luded: gardén— the lounging place of the gayly tur- baned women aund the well-dressed servant men of the establishment. Fresh meats, fresh vegetables and fruits were cried every morning in musical patols. At night the theaters, the opera and publle halls, kept the city awake and allve with their gayety, | while children fell asleep behind the batten windows to the pretty tinkle of the ice cream cart that busily threaded its way in and out of every thoroughfare, AT THEATRES MAY McAVOY IN NEW PLAY AT GRAND TONIGHT May McAvoy scores again, this time in “A Virginia Courtship,” which is showing for the last time tonight .at the Grand Theatre. Who- ever made a star of this little girl had the right Idea for she combines brains, soul and beauty in exactly the proportions which spell success. There action a-plenty, clever characterization, and suspense. To return to Miss McAvoy—whither one’s_thoughts naturally stray—=She depicts .in a most intriguing manner the change brought about in the little girl whose playmate has been a freckled-face lad younger than herself, wien the young man of the house comes home from college. The part of the young man is play- ed in finished manner by Casson Fer- guson while the rest of the large supporting cast__includes Richard Tucker,Kathlyn Williams, Alec B. Francis, Jane Keckley, L. M. Wells Guy Oliver, Vern Winters, George Reed and Washington Blue. The direction by Frank O’Connor; leaves nothing- to be desired, humor, pathos and thrill being blended in the most_skillful manner. . Other numbers on the same pro- zram are: a brand new two-part Christie Comedy entitled ‘“Hocus Po- cus” which features the well known commedian, Bobby, Vernon. “THE CONQUEST OF CANAAN" AT GRAND THEATRE SUNDAY Theére’s a “Main Street” that runs shrough “Canaan” the mythical city which Booth Tarkington wrote about n the “Conquest of Canaan.”’ {n Canaan were some who were re- spectable and others who were not. Once you were placed in the latter ss, it was next to impossible to ive down the disgrace. As the title suggests, Main Street in Canaan was conquered and by two of the unrespectables, Joe Loud- en and Areil Tabor. Ariel was for- tunate enough to inherit money which to0ok her to Paris. Joe could not bring himself to conform with the Main Street conventions which a- roused such prejudice within him /hat he was forced to leave town to :arve out a better carcer. The development of this interest- ng plot which brings out the biggness as well as the pettiness of a middle- sized town, is illustrated in the Para- mount picturization of the “Con- quest of Canaan” which will be shown at the Grand Theatre on Sun- Jay. Thomas Meigham, as Joe Louden, starg 'in the picture and Doris Kenyon in the role of Areil Tabor plays the leading feminine part. “CHASING THE MOON” AT THE REX THEATRE SUNDAY The genial, daring, fun-loving Tom Mix is returning here next Sunday in ais latest Fox photoplay, “Chasing :he.Moon.” He will be at the Rex :heatre for two days. “Chasing the Moon” is another Mix thriller, and contains an unusual amount of fun and frolic ,the story giving Mix a fine >pportunity to display ' his daring stunts and to indulge his fondness for outwitting his foes. Eva Novak is again his leading woman, and is said skill plus beauty. Mix, in this story, starts in Amer- ‘ca, goes to Russia. and finishes in Spain—where he also finishes his en- 2mies. Ben Turpin, in his new comedy, ‘Bright Eyes,” is also on the pro- zram at the Rex theatre Sunday. — “THE HELLHOUND OF THE WEST” AT REX TODAY ONLY ' That most colorful and_romantic seriod of the great west will be see it the Rex Saturday when the Prai. «ie production, “The Hellhound of ;he West,” starring “Fearless Dick” Jatton, opens for an engagement of e day. It is a rapid-fire melodramatic! :ale of the plains, depicting attacks; >y the Indians, a strong love stury,l ind a revival of the thrilling Mazep- 7a ride, so dear to the hearts of the- atre-goers of bygone years. Willie Mae Carson is cast in_the -ole of a dance hall queen with whom ‘he younger brother, Frank, falls in ove. Miss Carson, it will be re-i nembered, plays the role of The .ady with the Handkerchief in Jouglas Fairbanks’ master produc- son, “The Three Musketeers.” ! Another familiar face is that of| .dttle Richard De Vilbiss. He was seen recently in Rupert Hughes’ rrent‘dfam:\ of the heart, “The Old Nest.” ‘MISS LULU BETT” AT THE ELKO THEATRE TONiGH T Not to be outdone by his brother, Cecil B.-De Mille, who arranged a -emarkable furniture destroying scene n “The Affairs’of Anatoll” with Wal- ace Reid as the destroyer, William Je Mille provided a similar stunu £s new Paramont production ‘“Miss ,ulu Bett” wherin Lois - Wilson, as he leng suffering Luly, finally turns pon _the Deacon’ household, wrecks -he Kitchen and raises’ ructions gen- orally. Amang other things, she dealt Theo- “lore Roberts, who plays Dwight Dea- on, a rescunding whack on the jaw with her fist., “By Jove,” observed the seteran actor, she carries a wallop ike Dempsey. “It was lots of fun’’ said Miss Wil- son, who is proverbially mild temper- +d. “I put myself in the piace of the sirl, Lulu, and thought of my loug | yent-up self-pity. Then I went to i __I smashed dishes and battered up ‘hat old kitchen till it looked like it 1ad been hit by a cytlone. It was fun- ay - but I got quite a thrill out it all.” «Miss Lulu Bett” is the prize play| >y Zona Gele from her cwn novel and was adapted by Clara Beranger, It will be presented for the first time here at the Elko theatre tonight, also ;0 give her usual performance—with | # SATURDAY EVENING, MARCH 18, 1922 “THE SPENDERS” AT ELKO TUESDAY AND WEDNESDAY I vou have read *Ruggles of Red Gap,” *“Ma- Pettingill,” or “The Spenders,” then you know the charm and interest of Harry Leon Wilson’s stories. Now comes a picturization of “The Spenders,” produced by Benj. B. Hampton and directed by Jack Conway, which will appear at the Elko theatre next Tuesday and Wednesday. There is an all-star cast of unusual strength, which' includes Joseph J. Dowling, Claire Adams, Robert M¢Kim, Niles Welch, Betty Brice and’ others. i SUBSCRIBE FOR THE DAILY PIONEER during my grammar-seh . cause was a dark-h about three rows from me. during recess, when I was all alone in the room, I, endeavoring to do some- thing to please the maiden, took some| flowers that were on the teacher” table and arranged them in the form of a large heart ou the girl’s desk,, 1 still don’t know what made-me do it, but at any Just as I w tonch came in she said, “I want you all to take a c Avchie has so artfully made on Irenc’s desk.” sickness ended then and there.—Chi- Pt P Incident Cured Him. 1 first suffered qualms'of the heart ys. Thel red miss who sat One day, ite the teacher came in s putting on the finishing When the rest- of the class, look at the artistic heart Let me tell you that my love- GRAND “A VIRGINIA her own. STARTING Matinee 2:30 THE GOOD LUCK STAR romance of a town of the Middle West. Of its scan- dals, pride and politics. aWittiam deMille production Sunday and Monday. is leading man. @ Miiton Sills LAST TIMES 7:30 & 9:00—10c & 25¢ The Sweetest and Mest Charming Little Star MAY McAVOY Star of “Mcrals”—‘Sentimental Tommy,” etc. The story of a romping Tomboy who tried to arrange some other people’s romances and discovered one of ——ALSO SHOWING—— “HOCUS' POCUS”—with BOBBY VERNON A New Two-Part, Christic Comedy SUNDAYNiIght 7:15 & 9:00 THOMAS MEIGHAN In the 7-part Paramount Production of Booth Tarkington’s immortal story— T CONQUEST of CANAAN" Booth Tarkington’s noted And of love that made a ALSO SHOWING—“THE SEA WOLF” A Short Interesting Subjecg The American home turned Inside out The play that half of New York saw—and talked about. The book that half of America read—and raved about! Now on the screen, for.all the world to enjoy! A picture of universal appeal, because it deals with the lives of American people as-no picture ever did before. From the ncvel and play by Zona Gale Scenario by Clara Beranger MATINEES 2:3¢, 10c-25¢c—NIGHTS, 10¢-30c ELJ O Tonight SUN.-MON TONIGHT | COURTSHIP” For Three Days THE GOOD LUCK STAR fighting young lawyer set the place right side up. ] e e T e T e e e e A e