Casper Daily Tribune Newspaper, January 18, 1917, Page 2

. } | i ij ‘ THE CASPER DAILY TRIBUNE Novelized from the Motion Picture Play of the same name by George Kleine. Coprrigh, 1910, by Adelade M. Hugher SYNOPSIS. Pierpont Stafford, banker and railroad mag » with his # en-year-old daugh- loria, in wi “ws at Palm Beach is @ vivacious but willful young who chafes under the restral hand of a governess from whom she r pesiedly escapes. Her childish capers cause young Doctor Royce to fall in love with her, She steals from room at night and in an auto plunges into the surf where she leaves the car. Becoming Jost in the everglades she falls into the hands of the Seminole Indians. She is rescued and returned to her father who had offered a reward for her return. Glo- Fla ialis {u love with her rescuer, r rier, © yours Jater she leaves school ani msets Freneau at the theater; his fatiention having been occupled with her eis‘er-in-law be has forgotten Gloria, Glo- m is shattered. her to forgive sister-in . Lois, becomes intensely alous and Doctor Royce dis- covers in her an ally to assist in thwart- ing Freneau. Doctor Royce warns Fre- meau that there is another woman besides Gloria; neau goes sleighing with Glo- ria wi her father’s knowledge. It re- neumonta for Gloria, whose fam- fly becomes incensed at Freneau when they learn the truth. Royce is to alleviate Gloria's suffering. finances being low he approach: Stafford for a loan. Doctor Royce again warns Freneau of his conduct. “But Lois, learning of Freneau's betrothal to Gloria, threatens him with dire punishment. Her husband, Gloria's brother David, becomes suspicious; he plans a trap for his wife. Fren driven to desperation by Lols’ threats agrees to spend a week with her fm the Catskills. He plans to have Mulry gend Gloria a bunch of telegrams, Lots’ usband threatens to kill a man, After meau takes leave of Gloria she sees from her window an attack made upon him when he goes to meet Lois. EIGHTH INSTALLMENT The Mesh of Mystery. ‘Was it delirium or was it truth? Or part truth and part delirium? If part of both, where did truth leave off and delirium begin? ‘This was the problem that confront- ed Miss Emily Richards, night nurse to Gloria Stafford. Miss Richards sat quivering in her chair by the night lamp and watched the exquisite girl who, though quieted now by drugs, ‘was conscious enough to be troubled. Her eyes, still filled with something of the horror they had seen or thought they had seen, turned every now and again towards the door. She was waiting for the doctor to appear there. He was searching for the body of her lover, whom sie had seen—or said she had seen—murdered. Before this unhappy moment Gloria hhad been progressing swiftly towards recovery from the attack of pneu- monia that had struck her down on the very threshold of her marriage to Dick Freneau. Nurse Richards’ heart had already troubled her in this affair, and her heart was an organ she made a point of ignoring; at least she had cased it in such iron determination that she seldom felt it throb, But this par- ticular patient had been so beauti- fully favored by the gods otherwise that her untimely illness seemed in- congruously cruel. Some day Richards might congratu- late Gloria upon this disaster and real- ize that the gods had been cruel to be kind; but just now the knowledge could not come to sustain her. All she could see was a young girl of great beauty, great patience in the face of trying and tedious disease, one who had all to live for—wealth, a Gevoted father and brother, and an ex- trasrdinary handsome bridegroom who furnished the final touch to the picture. mmoned neau's erpont diablerie of the dashing Freneau, with | his charming manners and somewhat wicked glances cast her way that wilt- would not have acknowledged heaven knows, and bless us, never! Richards had arrived as usual to relieve the day nurse. She buckled on her armor of white linen in the room next to Gloria's own and as she looked from the window facing River- side drive, she thought she had never bebeld so beautiful a night or so beau- tiful a scene. Already the young moon was up and gleaming softly but purely on the noble beauty of the sol- diers’ and sailors’ monument opposite | the Stafford house. The white mar- ble columns of that magnificent tribute to the heroes dead and gone stirred her strangely. Richards sighed her last tribute to sentiment, romance and the beauty of the night, and, moving towards her patient’s room, assumed her usual crisp and cheerful manner. As Rich- ards came in Gloria turned to her with a wan littte smile of welcome and put her hand out towards her. She looked like a small child lying there, and the color scheme of her room—soft grays and powder blue— made an exquisite setting for the girl's own colorful type. The blue of her eyes contrasting with the deli- cate red of her hair, her peach-bdlos- som skin, a baby chin, a girl's mouth, and a woman's soul, made up a total of irresistible appeal. Just now a heavy splash of scarlet on either cheek told the nurse of un- usual fever, but with her newly awak- ened sense of romance she attributed the condition to Gloria's probable dis- inclination to parting with her lover. For Freneau had told her that he must leave town on business for a whole week, When he came to bid farewell the nurse left the room, re- turning when Freneau had gone. He left Gloria in a lonely gloom. Gloria was fretful and restless, com- plaining that she did not feel ready for sleep. It was the nurse who was drowsy after the long strain of | Gloria's illness. bead Richards put out all the lights save | the one shaded lamp by the bedside, and then she must have dozed, for the next thing she knew was that her ears were throbbing and her nerves jang- ling with the wild clamor of Gloria's ms. For an instant the nurse was too horrified to move, then as her wits returned to her the fact that the voice was Gloria’s penetrated to her con- | sciougness. Gloria, indeed, was tug- ging at her and crying to her inco- herently. Then she fainted as her father rushed in in his dressing gown. He and Miss Richards lifted the girl's body to the bed. Then Richards reached for the telephone to call Doc tor Royce, blaming herself bitterly the while for having slept at her post. Doctor Royce was not at home. His secretary promised to send him the moment he returned. The nurse did what she could. Turning to the bed she was clutched by the groping hands of Gloria. She heard her cry: ; “Save him, save him, father; they’ve murdered him! Let me go to him! Oh, Dick, Dick!” Richards held the frantic girl tight in her arms and tried to soothe her | hers were almost those of a mantac,! from the pocket a long envelope with and the nurse signed to the distracted father tq help her. Gloria was shriek- ing now as she found renewed strength: “There, there, look! Look down by the steps of the monument! Dick is lying there. I tell you they've killed him. Oh, my God, why don’t you go to him instead of holding me here?” With one supreme effort she wrenched herself free from the two, only to be mercifully seized with an- other fainting spell, Swooning for- ward, her face would have been dashed against the footboard of her bed had not Richards recaptured her in her arms. At last Doctor Royce appeared in the dvorway. His foot struck the binoculars, which still lay on the floor where they had ‘fallen from Gloria's hand. He started back from them, looked towards the pros- trate Gloria, and, stooping swiftly, thrust the glasses into his pocket with what sounded to Richards much like an oath. Then he came forward to Gloria, taking her from her father’s arms. Gloria opened her ‘eyes again and stared into the doctor's own with an- other outcry: “You will believe me and go to him, | Won't you?” Reason seemed io return to her new, and her eyes were overflowing with tears. Her father had to turn his own away, for Gloria's made him think of a child torn from its mother and beaten and pleading. When Doc tor Royce spoke his voice was hoarse with emotion: “Gloria, you know that I would give my life to spare you any pain or to do you any service, but remember that you are still very fll, that any further excitement might be fatal to you. You have a high fever and are not yourself, You are a very sick child. Tell me what is troubling you and what frightened you and I will do anything I can to help you.” Gloria seemed to be holding herself under extreme control as if to con- vince them of her sanity. “Oh, Stephen, you must believe. I | tell you I saw it all—from the window | see his face. ed Nurse Richards’ starch—though she | this, | &s she struggled to rive from the bed | %& was really the insouciance and/| again. But the eyes that looked intq here. But there is no time to lose You must go to him. Dick Freneau is dead! Murdered! His body is down there at the base of the monu- ment. “Miss Richards was sleeping. I couldn't. I looked through my glasses on the drive. I turned them towards the monument. I saw a man in eve- ning dress loitering*about. I couldn't He seemed to be. wait- ing for someone. A policeman went by. The man stepped behind the mon- ument till the officer had gone. Then he came out again. He took a revol- ver from his pocket. Then he walked &@way as a tramp came along. | “I saw the tramp—a slouching crea- ture with a hideous face—a face I shall never forget? I saw it plainly under the light of the lamps as he dropped on a bench. But 1 thought nothing of him and turned my glasses down the drive. a “I saw a man stop to light a cigar. It was Dick. I was surprised. I thought he would have been on the train. He seemed to look up at my windows. Then he walked on. I turned my glasses back to the tramp. I saw a terrific look come over his | face, under the lamp-post—as he saw Dick approaching. I wanted to scream @ warning, but he was too far away. I saw the tramp skulk behind a tree. “As Dick passed him the tramp leaped on him from behind. There was a struggle in the shadows. I tried to scream—not a sound came from my throat. I could only hold the glas“xs to my eyes and watch. The tramp was like a mad gorilla. hadn't a chance with him. The fiend him, I don’t know which. But I know that I saw these things. true, and I saw his body thrown down lifeless. “The man in evening dress came back again. J thought he was going to save Dick. The tramp ran away at sight of him. The man knelt down by Dick’e body, I couldn't see very well, but he seemed to be listening to his heart. I thought surely he would help Dick. Then I could hard- ly believe my eyes, for he began to search Dick’s coat. He pulled out Dick | I know it's | | | first ¢ seals on the back. “It was the very envelope that I saw in Dick’s pocket tonight as he said good-by to me. I recognized it perfectly, for I laughingly asked him what important business it contained and he grabbed it from my hand so quickly that it startled me. I know it was the same—this man held up the envelope to the light to make sure of it, then put i in his pocket. Then I found my voice and screamed and screamed. And then I don't know what happened. “But, oh, Stephen, -go over there now at once. Bring him back here dead or alive and tell me the truth! I promise to be brave, but tell me the truth—tell me the truth!” Her : choked her now so that she { back exhausted on the pil- lows. Doctor Royce did not go to her. He was at window, staring through the binoculars. He seemed to be greatly astounded, then he said: “I can see the place perfectly; there is nothing th Mi Gloria screamed: “But I saw him killed; I tell you! He must be there!” Doctor Royce handed the binoculars to Mr Stafford. tafford, do you see anything?” ont stared through the glasses ok his head: ring.” sed the glasses to Miss Rich- also shook her head, thén “A policeman is com- ing up the drive—he is passing right across the spot—he didn’t stop!” Gloria saw this herself and won- dered if she were truly mad. Doctor Royce turned to Gloria, stroked her Wand, and spoke to her gently. “There, there, Gloria, child, don't torture yourself so. You have sim- ply been delirious and imagined these things. But to satisfy you I will go over there at once—if you will prom- ise to lie quietly here on your bed. And try to believe that it is all a hideous nightmare—until I come back to assure you that it is—will you?” Gloria nodded her head to him, un- able to speak, but it seemed to Rich- ards that the doctor’s assurance had t upon her and that she held in leash only until she could get him cut of the room. she turned to Miss Richards, “Hold me, Miss Richards, up quickly to the window— exclaimed: i} ve me the glasses. I must look again Together they strained their eyes} towards the monument. She felt ev-| ery nerve and muscle of Gloria’s body taut strung beneath her hands. *And she likened it to a bow. Gloria's soul was the arrow and it was ready at any moment to speed on its swift and terrible journey. She felt the agony as if it had been her own. The not knowing was the most terrible part of it, for Richards | sper wi to feel more bewilderment than the girl herself. Her instinct and the girl's conviction seemed to point to the truth of Gloria's vision; yet her common sense told her that such a thing was almost impossible, and that Gloria's fever would fully ac- count for it all. = They watched the monument. The doctor appeared there shortly and walked ‘about the empty spot, signal- ling to the window what he had said before. “There is nothing here—nothing.” And then Gloria began tc mutter: “Lay him down there.” She raised her arm and pointed to- ward the chaise longue. Then her arm dropped. Richards put her hand on Gloria’s head, only to have it} thrown off by the girl as she shrilled| in @ weak voice: “Loosen his collar ~—he'’s choking. Dick—Dick—it’s ull | right now, dear; they shan’t touch you either choked him to death or stabbed | again Richards felt a thrill of joy mingled with pity go through her. This was something she could understand at last—this was delirium. Then the rest must have been delirium, too? The sound of the doctor's step on the landing brought her grateful re- lief. He came in with a smile on his face. Going at once to the bed, he took Gloria’s hand to feel her pulse. Richards said: “She is delirious now, doctor, completely so. Did you find anything?” “There was nothing there,” but the She Showed the Telegram to Doctor Royce. doctor drawled the words with strange listlessness, and, sinking into a chair, covered his eyes wearily with his hand, though Gloria babbled faint- ly: “Has the mail come yet? Why don’t you give me Dick's letter?” . . . . . . . On the following morning Gloria awoke from her drugged sleep with a feeling of hovering calanfity. Pres- ently realization came. been murdered. She hid her face in the pillows and moaned: “It can’t be true; it can’t be true.” The day nurse tried to soothe her, bathing her face and hands, arrang- ing her hair* Then the butler arrived with a telegram for Gloria, who took it from him with trembling hands. A glad cry escaped the girl's lips as she read it. “Arrived safely. Miss you terribly. Hope you slept well and dreamed of me. Am writing. Devoted love. DICK.” Gloria passed her hand across her brow in a’daze. She read the tele- gram again and called to Miss Arm- strong and Doctor Royce, who had just entered. She showed them the telegram, try- ing to hold her fingers over the words to let them see only “Arrived safely” and “Am writing.” Doctor Royce started, but recover- ing himself, expressed great delight. “I told you it was a delirium.” Yet the nurse, glancing from the telegram to the doctor, noted a puzzled look on his face that belied his words. At last the doctor was able to place the thermometer in Gloria’s mouth. She tried to speak, but he ordered her to keep silence, and stood in a brown |, study. Gloria indicated by crude and ‘impatient pantomime that she wanted paper and pencil. She proceeded to compose a telegram, shifting her posi- tion that the doctor might not see what she wrote. Doctor Royce took the thermome- ter from her lips, and she went cn writing, without. noticing him. He nodded his head, apparently satisfied, and the nurse entered the tempera- ture on the chart. Then bidding Gloria good-by, the doctor left the room, still musing. Gloria continued her task, apparent- ly a difficult one, and chewed the end of her pencil to bits. At last the re- sult, much underscored and scratched out, read: “Your angelig telegram received. It was terribly welcome, I did not sleep, but I dreamed a horrible dream about you. Overjoyed to know you are safe. Please take care of your- self and telegraph on receipt of this that you are still all right. Much love. GLORIA.” Dispatching her telegram by a ser- vant, Gloria gave her attention to the breakfast tray her nurse placed on the bed. The invalid turned up her little nose as she uncovered the plate of gruel, but ate it greedily, nevertheless, and then, worn out by her emotions of the night before, but in a peaceful frame of mind at last, she settled her- self for a long, refreshing sleep. A few hours later when she awoke it was to receive another message. The telegraph company notified her that her telegram to Freneau at his hotel was not delivered: “Party not known there.” Before she could recover from her bewilderment, close on the heels of this message came a special delivery love ietter from her Icver written on the hotel paper and postmarked Al- Gloria was completely dazed, her brain in a whirl of contradictions. What could she do? Where could she find her lover? Was he alive or dead? = At this time, in the boudoir of her Home, Lois Stafford paced the floor, staring at the photograph of Freneau which she had stolen from Gloria. Despair tore at her heartstrings. She Her lover had | voice of her husband came through the door. She cast a look of anger at the door, then hid the photograph and dried her eyes hastily. Then she forced a smile and admitted David. He carried an offering of flowers in his hands, “I thought you were on your way South,” Lois exclaimed as she em- braced nim with apparent fervof. “I decided not to go and turned back. Are you sorry?” he-asKed hun- grily. She answered: “My love!” and clasped him close, She was afraid to ask him any ques- tions lest he ask questions of her. The following morning Gloria, still see-sawing between joy and anguish, received a telegram from Freneau at Buffalo. She telegraphed to him at his address there. Later the message was reported undelivered. Yet in due time a letter came from Freneau on the hotel paper. The next day a message of love from Cleveland. Now she called the hotel on the long-distance telephone. The clerk insisted that Freneau was not there and had not been there, ~ It was the same with messages from Detroit, Chicago, St. Louis, and Pittsburgh. Gloria felt that she wag being slowly driven insane. But her bodily health improved throughout the week in spite of her mental distress and Doctor Royce told her that she might go down to the dining room for her breakfast. She was giad of this because Dick's letter from Pittsburgh had promised that he would call on her that morning. She wanted to wel- come him in state. She herself had a royal reception from the servants. She was dressed in a trailing breakfast gown of orchid chiffon, and she bent to the bowing old butler as if he were her prime minister. Her father escorted her to her place, then whipped open his pa per to the financial page and vanished behind it. Gloria turned to the page of social gossip in another paper. She had pretty well lost track of the world. She laughed as she turned to the front page and only now saw the big headlines announcing: “Freneau Dead. Body of Well-Known Clubman Found in Lowe Bay. Mystery as to Death. Suicide Hinted. Financial Affairs Known to Have Been in Dis- order.” Gloria’s eyes widened. Her fingers clenched and crumpled the paper in anguish. Her father, looking up from his paper, saw the wild terror in her eyes. He hurried to her. She hand- ed him the paper, and while he read, she rose to her feet unsteadily, lean- ing on the table for support. As soon as her father understood the news he put his arms about her. But she gently thrust him from. her and stood gazing great-eyed into Space. .She was seeing again what ihe saw that night beneath the monu- All her girlhood seemed to drop from her. Her small figure grew terrible with agony, her little white mouth was drawn with determination to have revenge. She lifted her hands to heaven in solemn consecration and made her vow: “I will not rest’ until I discover the murderer of Richard Freneau and bring him to justice.” Then, waving her father aside, she marched out into the hall and up the great staircase like a young queen go- ing to the guillotine. - (TO BE CONTINUED.) Warm Locality. Bill—This paper says that shafts sunk Into a coal field in Germany which had been burning several years revealed 18 veins of blazing coal. Jill—1 suppose, naturally, the people are hot over it. af 3 a As Translated. ©& H Hazel—Poor fellow! He has revol- sobbed and beat her breast. A knock | vers under his hat. at the door brought her to herself and ebe called: “Who's there?” The! Hazel—-He has Aimee—What do mean by ‘that? tn his elites, 0