Evening Star Newspaper, June 18, 1922, Page 64

' THE - SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON. --.D.< C. ! A QueStiOn Of Personality—T he 'qutune Hunter and -th.e My‘stefious WOrkmq,;,;;By Cyril McNeile HE personally conducted tour vound Frenton's Steel Works paused, as usual, on réaching the show piece of .the enter- talnment. The mighty hammer, op- erated with such consummate ease by the movement of a single lever, never failed to get a round of applause from the fascinated onlookers. This time it would crash downward, de- livering a blow which shook the sround: next time it would repeat the performance. only to.stop just as the spectators wefe braclug them selves for the: shock—stop with such mathematical exactitude ‘that the Rlass of a watch beneath it would be cracked. but the works would not be 1 would not notice. Moreover, uneasy suspicfon began to form In her mind that the object of this hos- tility was her fiance. She took ad- vantage of the halt at the steam ham- mer to draw Him on one side. “What on earth is the matter with the men, Herbert?’ she demanded. “I've never seen.them like this be- fore. H The Honorable Herbert cursed un- der_his _breath. He, too,.had been painfully aware of the scowls which had followed them, though he had hoped against ! hope that Marjorie he had known only tooy well the reason of the demonstratiqn. “And now it would come to old John's ears. «He cursed agalm as the girf looked atihim with dumaged. ©1d Frenton had made the works. | quostioning eyes.} B g Mo was o wilitionaliel niw, ARy .. Lord knows,jmyisdear.ihe fan \lmes over, but He could still vecall | SAred SERUIDUE ‘LS aupHoss. el the day when sixpence extra a day blighters ..l'flVB got :some - fancied hud meant the difference between |S¥ievance. nic penury and afuence. He paid chr similar spirit. And he did more. him every man he employed was a personal friend. Again, ail he asked Blighters! Fancied grievance! " oo well almose Welshly: Al | Lno sitl stepped \buck Jin. genuine Ked was that ey should -wovk | Suasement. | “Then; (why donit.you 3 nave them together and ask them, liked daddy used to do?" As she spoke she glanced over lLis shoulder, and for A moment her eyes vas that ey shou egard ol 14 regard RIM| .\ those of & man standing behind o S him. He was looking at her deliber- had said to ) 2| Boys,” he had said to them on one | ,yo1y 4nq jntently, and suddenly, to occasion, when a spirit of unrest had been abroad in the neighboring works, “if you've got any grievance. there’s only one thing I ask. Come her surprise, he held up a twisted slip of paper in his hand. Then he pointed to the floor and turned away. | 1t had been done so allickly that for and ge oft ¥ h : and get it off vour chests lo me . L pyo gne could hardly belleve her 1 t get muttering and grousing ) ¥ | eves. One of the men, trying to pass about it on corners. If I can remedy e b | a secret note to her! What on carth i, T will. If Tean't. Il tell you why e e R was the matter with everybody? st = Once agaln the man looked at her In such manner had John Frenton : with the suspicion of a smile on his run his works: in such manner had ; face, and she frowned quickly. He he become @ millionaire and found A b S e happiness as well And then had |was 'mbett ACRl (TR ¥ il Goiiins reat: selet ofinis e | Hiw | ahejturned toier fancc ;- SHotnem om - § bured now that the last time:she had wife died when Marjorie, the only TEfla was horm. G €iie gicl he law | Been ound alic BEQ meen Nk work: he A Al the ‘gm” wealth of love of | ing on & lathe; that it had struck her B 7 |then that he had seemed different which his rugged nature was n'\’ the others—his hands. oily though ab He idolized her, and she. be-| "°"f h“' e h‘ cause hor nature was sweet. remained | the¥ they wirer ‘B9 ¢ st & hairinE, puamected gl (Thew|riased jlook inGHIIER S RIBAEAY, ¢ o | speaking. almost as if he had been he'd met the man e her equal. And now he was presum- * ok % ing on her kindness then. 1" would perhaps be more correct to| Her shands clenched Involuntarily say that the man had met her. |as she looked at her fiance. The Honozable Herbert Strongley What is the name of that man received an intimation from an aunt|with his back half toward us over of his that if he would find it con-|there?" she demanded. For the mo- venient to abstain for a while from [ment the “fancied grievance” was his normal method of living and come | forgotter in more personal matiers. and stay with her in the country she | The Hbnorable Herbert, thankful would introduce him to a charming | for the raspite. swung around Then, girl staying at a neighboring house.|as he saw the subject of har ues- She specificd who the charming girl | was. and suggested that though from his birth Herbert had been a fool. he couldn’'t be such a fool as to let this She was an outspoken lady, was slip, this aunt. The Honorable Herbert made a few fnquiries and left London next day for a protracted stay with his rela- tive. It took him a week—he Ppos- gessed a very charming manner, did Herbert—before he was formally en- | gaged to Marjorie. The armament of nineteen has but little resisting power when exposed to the batteries of a good-looking, delightful man of the world who is really bringing all his guns to bear. And because the man was a consummate actor when he chose to be, he had but little more | difficulty in getting through the de- fenses of her father. Marjorie seemed wonderfully happy —that was the chief thing to John Frenton. And he was getting old. Carrying out his usual routine at the works was dally becoming more and more of a strain. Why not? He had no son—everything would go to his girl and her husband at his death. His life work would be in thelr hands. 1f he'd had his way, perhaps, he'd have chosen some one with a little more knowledge of the trade. The Monorable Herbert didn't know the difference between mild ' and tool steel, but, after all. a happy marriage ¢id not depend on such technical quallfications. * % k% AND so his prospective son-in-law became a prospective partner. Ostensibly, he was supposed to be picking up the tricks of the trade, a performance which afforded him no pleasure whatever. He loathed work in any form, and regarded it as a form of partial insanity. But he was far too astute a person to run any risks. Ha was playmg for immeas- urably langer stakes than he could afford to Jose. and. in addition. he was quite genuinely fond of Mar- jorie in his own pecullar way. He intended to marry her, and then, when the old man was dead—and he was visibly failing—the Honorable Herbert had his own ideas on the subject of Frenton's Steel Works. The only trouble was that Fren- ton's Steel Works had their own ideas on the subject of the Honorable Her- Dbert, though that gentleman was su- tion, his jaw set In an ug'v 'ne. | “John Morrison." he ered | shortly. ‘And if I had my wy td | sack him on the spot. A useless, | argumentative, insubordinate swir | And it was as this grac:fvi eultgy concluded that John Morrison looked | at her agam. Her flance had muved |away, and she was stanaing slone. | For a moment she hesicated. Thun | she, too, turned to join. the rest of the party. And lying on the ground where she had been was Ler hand- | kerchief. | “You dropped your haadierchief, |Miss Frentom” A courtejus, well- bred voice was speaking close be her, and she turned slow'y o | John Morrison holding it out to X “Thank you,” she answercd. Rolled up insile it she could ‘eel the twisted wisp of paper, a1l a5 the | Honorable Herbert came up with an angry look on Fis face she hesitatad. “What do you want?' he snipped Eat the man. “Miss Frenton dropped h Kkerchief, sir,” answered Morr passively. | The other grunted. { “Al right. Get worl ! Marjorie hesitated no longer. With a sort of blinding certainty there | Hashed into her mind the conviciion that something was wrong. She didn't stop to analyze her thoughts. She merely felt convinced that John Morrison was not an insubordinate swine, and that in the note she held in her hand lay the clue to’a great deal that was puszzling her at the mo- ment. And so, with a gracious smile at the man, she slipped her handker- chief into her bag. It was ten minutes before she found an opportunity of reading the note. It was in pencil, and the handwriting was small and neat. Tt is immaterial to me what ac- tion vou take on receiving this” it ran. “But If you are in any way in- terested in your fiance’s future I most strongly advise you to suggest a change of air to him. Of his capa- bilities as a husband, you must de- cide for yourself; of his capabilities as the boss of Frenton's, other peo- ple have already decided, as possibly vou may have noticed this morning. So get him away and keep him away. You haven't got much tima” “Get him away and keep him away!” The words danced before the i nd hand- soa im- on with your premely ignoramt of the fact. For = o ’e girl's eyes. She was conscious of no the men dia ot Wk the Honerable | 58 Silin e Sonn Morrison—merely Herbert. In fact, they disliked him| o synned surprise. The thing was nce there was no future—a future considerably, and secret regarding which concerned them intimately— this error in the calculations was serious. They were a rough-and-ready crowd, with rough-and-ready ideas of justice and fairplay. In addition, they ldolized Marjorie Frenton and her father to a man. Tt had taken them about a month to size up the new partner, and that was six months ago. Since then, slowly and inexorably— their brains did not work very quickly—the determination that they would not have the Honorable Her- bert as John Frenton's successor had erystallized and hardened. For a while they had waited. Surely the old man did not see. The Honorable Herbert still strolled yawning through the works, taking not the slightest notice of any of the hands— the man whom they in future would have to work for. Very good! If old John could not see it for himself, other steps would have to be taken to dispose of the gentleman. * K ® X THE\' might have been peaceful steps but for an incident which had occurred the day before the per- sonally conducted tour already men- tioned. Tt was conducted by the Hon- orable Herbert himself, and consisted of the house party staying with John ¥renton and Marjorie. The house party noticed nothing unusual, some- what naturally. They were bored or interested according to their natures. But as the tour progressed a look of yuzzled wonder began to dawn in Mar- Jjorie's eyes. What on earth was the matter with the men? It was some time since she had been in the works, and the change was the more pronounced because of it. Instead of cheery smiles, sullen faces, and black looks followed them swherever they went. She sensed that the whole atmosphere of the place as hostile. And after a while the|her that the v.oid exacily described,cant wmaging whai ol so totally unexpected. “Of his capa- bilities as the boss of Frenton's other people have already decided And even as she read and reread the sentence she found that she was ac- tually asking herself the question: “Was It so totally unexpected, after an? That matters should have come to a head in such an abrupt way was a staggering shock, but—— She crumpled the note into her bag once more and walked slowly toward the walting cars. A hundred little half- | aefined thoughts came crowding in on her memory; a hundred little things which had not struck her at the time —or was It that she hadn’t allowed them to strike her?—now arrayed themselves In massed formation in front of her. PR QHE paused with her foot on the step of the car. The Hanorable Herbert was solicftiously -bending over a stout and boring aunt’'of hers and she watched him dispassionately. “Of his capabilities as a husband you must decide for yourself.” Imperti- nent. And yet she was not comscious of any resentment. “Come up to lunch, Herbert,” she said as he stepped over to her. “I want to talk to youy afterward.” He raised his eyebrows slightly. “I shall be very busy this after- noon, dear.” “I think the works will stand your absence for one afternoon,” she re- marked quietly, and he bit his lip. “I'll be there, Marjorie.” He fumbled with her rug. “One o'clock sharp, I suppose?”’ He stood back and the cars rolled off. “What a charming man your flance is, my dear,” cooed the elderly female sitting beside Marjorie. “So polite— so—so—impressive.” The girl smiled a little absently and nodded. “Tmpressive.” It struck 4 Herbert. He was impressive. And then, because she was loyal clean through, she started to fan herself into a furlous rage at the abominable impetinence of this wretched man, John Morrison. Herbert was right— he was an insubordinate swine. How dare he—how dare he—hand her such a note? He ought to be sacked at once. She would tell Herbert about it after lunch, and he would explain matters—of course, he would explain, of course! John Frenton was standing on the steps as the cars drove up and im- pulsively she went up to him. “Herbert is coming to lunch, daddy,” she cried, putting her arm through his. he, darling?” said the old man, patting her hasd. “That's all right. He turned to the rest of the party as it came up. “Well, what do you think of my works? None In England to beat ‘em, my friends, not if you search | | | | “HE from John o' Groats to Land's End. And as for a strike, it's unknown, si unknown. My men don’t do it, what- ever other firms may do. * ox x % HE passed into the house, talking animatedly to one of his guests and for a while Marjorie stood, star- ing over the three miles of open coun- try to where the high chimneys of Frenton's Steel Works stuck up like slender sticks against the dull back- ground of smoke. Then. with a little sigh. she, too, went up the steps into the house. | “Herbert, I don't quite understand | about tkhis morning.” She was in her |own sitting room, and her fiance, standing in front of the fire, was lighting a clgarette. “What is the matter at the works?" All through lunch the Honorable Herbert, in the Intervals of being charming to the ghastly collection of old bores, as he mentally dubbed them, who formed the party, had been puzzling out the best line to take at this interview. That the-girl had seen that something was wrong was obvious. No one but a blind person could have failed to notice it. And now that the Interview had actually started he was still undecided. “My dear little girl,” he remarked gently, sitting down beside her and taking her hand, “why worry about it? As I told you this morning, some little grievance, I expect—which I'll inquire into.” The girl shook her head. “It's something very much more than a grievance,” she said quietly but positively. “There's something radically wrong. Herbert. I want to know what it fs." “Good heavens, Marjorie!”"—there was a hint of impatience in his volce —*“haven't T told you I'll inquire into it? Do be reasonable, my dear girl.” T'm being perfectly reasonable’™ she answered, still in the same qulet tone, “but I don't understand how things have got as far as they have without any steps on your part. You say you don't know what's the mat- ter. Daddy would have known long ago and remedied it.” The Honorable Herbert's opinion of daddy at that moment remained un- spoken. “You see,” went on the girl, “they're just part of daddy. are the works. He was' only saying today that he had never had any strike: And now, when he's getting old— * k kX HE stirred restlessly in her chair and looked at the fire. “Of his capabilities as the boss of Frenton’ other people have already decided. The words danced before her in the flames, and almost passionately she turned to the man beside her. “Don’t you see,” she cried, “don’t you realize that I feel responsible? You're there—as a partner—because you're my flance. That's the only rea- son. The works will come to me when daddy dies. I shall be respon- sible for them—I and my husband.” “You could always turn the thing into a limited company, darling,” murmured the man, “if you found it too great a strain.” He waited for an answer, but none came, and afted a while he continued in an easy, reassuring voice. “Of course, I understand, my little Mar- jorie, your feelings on the matter.” “Do you?” she interrupted slowly. onder.” 'm only a beginner,” he went on, and his voice was a trifie hurt. “One can't pick up all sorts of technical knowledge in a month, or even 3 year.” “Technical knowledge isn't wanted, Herbert, 80 much as human knowl- edge, personality. I could run those works—with the help bf Mr. Thomp- son and the other managers. Ah, dea she bent forward quickly, “I tdon’t want to hurt you, but I just ave hap- s § f works with us this morning. I be- Heve it would have almost killed him.” “Very well, dear, it those are your feelings, there is no more to be said.” With quiet dignity, her flance rose to his feet. “If you are not satisfled with me—" He left the sentence unfinished. “I am,” she cried quickly; “I am, Herbert—perfectly satisfled. But—" “Then don't think any more about it," he said quickly. “I'll go down, little girl, and find out what the trouble is. And then I'll put it right, and let you know.” “You'll let me know this evening, won't you?" For a moment he hesitated. “If possible, Marjorie.” “But of course it's possible,” she cried impulsively. “At our works you've only to ask—have the men to- gether and ask.” pened if dad had gone round the|in the corner, and, to cap everything, a gun case. “I think there must be som: mis- she sald haltingly. “I must apologize. I——" She turned as if to leave the room. “I hope not, Miss Frenton.” She gave a little start. She had hoped he had not recognized her. “Won't you come and sit down by the fire and tell me what I can do for you?" After a2 moment's hesitation she did as he said. “You must admit, Mr. Morrison," she loosened her veil as she spoke, “that there is some excuse for my surprise.” The man glanced around the room with a slight smile. “Yes,” he murmured. “I can under- stand it causing you a slight shock. Had I known you were coming, T would have tried to make it less—er | —startling.” “What on earth are you doing in expressionless as he bent over and kissed her. ‘Quite so, darling.” he murmure: “quite so. Don't worry about it any * ok % ok of his car driving back to his {office that he gave vent to his reai | yesterday he could have bluffed it | through until they were married, at |any rate. had any intention of carrying on a deception which bored him to extine- tion. There would be no need to. But now- The marvel to him was that they hadn't struck already. And once they did and John Frenton came came known—good-bye to his hopes of the future. Marjorie would never forgive him. And as the realization of what that would entail struck him seriously for the first time he swore savagely. the Frenton milllons not only mor- ally but actually. And if they failed to materialize—— Once again he cursed under his breath. It was after dinner that night that Marjorie made up her mind. She had twice rung up her flance with no re- sult. The first time he had not come in. ®* The second he had just gone out to the local theater, the servant be- lieved. With a frown, she hung up the recelver, and, turning away, walked slowly to her father's study. “I want to see the book of ad- dresses, daddy,” she said quietly. It was one of old Frenton's hobbfes to have the address of every one of his men entered in a large book, which enabled periodical gifts to ar- rive if there was any illness in the family. “It's over there, with a sleepy smile. want it for?" “Mrs. Tracy has just had a baby, she announced, turning over the leaves. But it was not under the T's that she looked. Mendle, Morgan, Morris son—Morrison, John, 9 Castle road. Thoughtfully, she closed the book and’put it back in its proper place. Then she crossed the room and kissed her father lovingly on his bald head. “You're a dear old thin she whispered. “Go and play billiards with the general.” A fed minutes later she was driv- ing her little runabout toward Castle road. An onlooker, had he been able to see under the thick vell she wore, would have been struck with the like- ness of the small, determined face to that of old John Frenton. Like her father, once she came to a decision she required some stopping. * % X X girlie,” he said “What do you CASTLE ROAD proved to be a better neighborhood than she had ex- pected. Most of the hands preferred to live hearer to the works, and this street struck her as being more suit- able for well-to-do clerks. But she was far too preoccupied to worry overmuch with such trifles. John Morrison and the truth were what she wanted. She'left the car at the end of the street and walked to No. 9. Yes, Mr. Morrison was at home. A disapproving sniff preceded the open- ing of a sitting room door, which closed with a bang behind her. She heard the steps of the landlady going down the stairs and then she took an uncertain pace forward. she stammered. Un- undoubtedly the man in evening clothes facing her was John Morrison, but he looked so different. And who- ever heard of a faltory hand get- ting Into 2 smoking jacket for din- ner? And the room, the prints on the . v alls, the big roll-tep desk, golf clubs Q& T—1— T was not until he was at the wheel | | feelings. “Ask the men!” He saw | himself doing The cursed luck of the thing! But for that one episode | After that he had never | down to the works and the cause be- | He had been banking on | The Honorable Herbert's face was | the works? i [ she asked curiously. “My poor concerns will keep, Miss | Frenton.” A charming smile robbed the words of any offense. “I don't| think it was to discuss me that you came tonight. My note, 1 suppose. Am I to be rebuked?” No,” she answered slowls to be enlightened, please.” “I am | “Have you spoken to Strongley |the other side of the door it seemed | € My arrival T met a man w |as if a note 'of relief had crept into |Served with the Y. | her fiance’s voice—relief in which a and he immediately inquired: ‘How about it?" he asked after a pause. She raised her eyebrows. “I asked Mr. Strongley what was, the matter with the men. after lunch | toda; “I stand corrected.” With an ex-| pressionless face John Morrison held | out a heavy silver cigarette box to| her, but she shook her head. ! “No, thank you" she said curtly. and he replaced the box on the table. “But please smoke vourself if you ! want to." “And what did Mr. Strongley say asked the man. Nothin She stared at the fire | with a little frown. “He didn't seem | to know, but he said he'd find out| and ring me up. He hasn't done so, | and 1 want to know, Mr. Morrison— | know the truth. There's something radically wrong down there. What is i | * * ok *x OHN MORRISON thoughtfully lit a Jcl'urone and leaned against the mantelpiece, staring down at her. “May I ask you one or two ques- tions, Miss Frenton—questions which, though they may sound impertinent, are not intended in that spirit?” es.” She looked up at him stead “But 1 don’t promise to answer. “How long ago did you meet Her- bert Strongley?" “About a year." | “And how long was it before you got engaged to him?" She shifted a little in her chair. “Not very long.” she said at length. He did not press the point. though a faint smile hovered for a moment on his lips. “Not very long,” he repeated softl “Are you quite sure, Miss Frenton— and this is a very important question _are you quite sure that you haven't made a mistake?” “It may be important, but it's one I absolutely refuse to answer.” She faced him angrily. “What business is it of yours?” «Absolutely none—at the moment,” he sald quietly. “But you've come to me to find out what the trouble is. And if you have not made any mis- take with regard to Yyour engage- ment, 1 advise you to carry out the suggestion contained in my note. Get your flance away from Frenton's and keep him away, both before and after your marriage. It will come, I im- agine, as a blow to your father, but you can easily turn it into a com- pany.” “You mean—that the men don't like Herbert?" She forced herself to ask the question. “I mean,” he answered deliberately, “that the men loathe and detest him, and that only the love they have for you and your father has staved oft trouble up till now. And even that love will fail to avert a crisis after— well, after the regrettable episode that happened yesterday. «What was {t?" she demanded, and | “Why |1 to do? her voice sounded dead to the man. “I don’t think we need bother as to what it was,” he sald quietly. “Shall we leave it at the fact that however excellent a husband Strongley may make, as the boss of Frenton's he is a complete failure.” He bit his lip as he saw the look on the girl's face. Then he went on In the same quiet voice: “Things lige this hurt, Miss Frenton, but you are the type that appreciates frankness. And I tell you quite openly that the men are after your flance, and I don’t blame them.” . “YTouwside with them, do you?" Ste the' \ words at him fiercely “Am I not one of them?" hs replied gravely. “You know you're mot” Shs stood up and faced him. “You're not one of the ordinary hands. Look at your evening clothes, look at that gun case in the corner.” She paused she saw, the sudden look on his face. ‘What {8 it?" “Into this room quickl " he whis- pered. “You must stop there till he goes. Good Lord! What a complica- tion “Who is it?" she cried, startled by his evident agitation. “Strongley!” he whispered. eard his voice in the hall. Absolutely un- expected.” * k% * E closed the door, and she found herself in his bedroom, just as the landlady ushered in the second visitor. . And if Marjorie had been surprised ‘WAS LOOKING AT HER DELIBERATELY AND INTENTLY, AND SUDDENLY, TO HER SURPRISE, HE HELD UP A TWISTED SLIP OF PAPER | on her first entrance to John Morri- son’s room, it was evident that the Honorable Herbert was even more s “Good Lord, man!” he spluttered. the glad rags? I—er—of course, it's no business of mine, but vour general appearance gave me a bit of a shock.” To the girl listening intensely on certain amount of uneasiness was mingled “What can [ do for you?" Morrison asked gravely. “Well—er—don’'t you know"—un- doubtedly the visitor was not at all sure of his ground—"your rooms and that sort of things have rather knocked me. I mean—er—I'm rather in the soup. Morrison. And I really ame around to ask your advice, don't you know. 1 mean you saw the whole thing—yesterday. And, though I'm afraid I lost my temper with you, too. vet even at the time I saw different. And—er—I thought— The Honorable Herbert mopped his forehead and sank into a chair. “The mere fact that I change for dinner doesn’'t seem to alter the sit- uation appreciab said Morrison quietly. “No, by Jove—I suppose not.” John The | other sat up and braced himself for the plunge. “Well, what the hell am And what the devil are the men going to do? Are they going to strike?” “No, 1 don’t think so.” Morrison miled at the sudden look of relief on Strongley’s face. “They're too fond of Mr. Frenton and his daughter. It's you they're after.” “What are they going to do Give you a pleasant half-hour un- der the steam hammer,” said Morri- son deliberately, and the other rose with a stifled cry. “Just to test your nerves. Let it drop to within an inch of you, then stop it. And if that doesn’t expedite your departure, they'll take other steps.” But, damn it, Morrison,” his voice was shaking, “don’t yYou understand I can't go? I—er—Good Lord! Do you suppose I want to stop here for one second longer than 1 must? I loathe it! Can’t you stop ‘em, man? Tell 'em I'm clearing the instant I'm—" “Married,” sald Morrison quietiy. “Well, ves” said the other. 1 have to be frank with you—and I can see you'll understand.” His eyes strayed around the room. “I admit absolutely that this isn't my line. I detest the show. But old Frenton is wrapped up in these works, and— well, he looks for a son-in-law who will carry on. After I'm marrled I can explain things to him, don’t you know. And until then—well, we must stave off this trouble, Morri- son.” ; “Wouldn't it be a little more straightforward to explain your views to him before the marriage?” “Perhaps it would have been,” said the other with apparent frankness. “But it's too late now—and then there's that damned show yesterday. That's what I'm so afraid will come out.” He stared at the fire. “I didn't mean to hurt the fellow,” he went on querulously, “and I'm certain he dropped that spanner on my toe on purpose.” “gtill, that hardly seems sufficient justification for slogging 2 boy who is not quite all there over the head with an iron bar, does it?” Almost unconsciously his eves traveled to the bedroom door as he spoke, and then he grew suddenly rigid, for the door was open and the girl stood between the two rooms with a look of incred- ulous horror on her face. “So that what was the matter with Jake,” she said slowly, and -at ths sound of her voice Strongley swung around with a violent start. ARJORIE!” he gasped. “What on earth—" “Why didn’t you tell me at the be- ginning?” she demanded, staring at him with level eyes. “Why lie about it? It seems so unnecessary and petty. And then—to hit Jake over the head. You—take it back, pleas She laid her engagement ring on the table. —at once. The fault was partially mine, and I wouldn't like them to punish you for my—for my mistake. ‘Without another word she turned and left the room, and it was not until the front door banged that John Morrison. “You swine!” he muttered. lieve this was a put-up job.” John Morrison laughed. “Yes. You told me you were com- ing, didn’t you?" “No. I didn't tell you,” said Strongley slowly, with a vicious look dawning in his eyes, “which perhaps accounts for the fact that Miss Fren- ton was here—in your bedroom:! How nice! The gentleman workman and the employer's daughter! A charm- ing romance! [ should think Mr. “I be- tomorrow!" Not a muscle on John Morrison's face moved. “More than delighted, I should im- agline, except that it will be a little late. Personally, 1 am going up to tell him tonight.” He smiled slightly. “I don’t like you, Strongley. I know far too much about you. But I did pass Miss Frenton a note today at the works worning her to get you away.” our solicitude for my welfare is overwhelming,” sneered Strongley. 'Good heavens!” laughed John Mor- rison. you. I was afraid the men might get into trouble. Steady! with me. I'm not half-witted, and I can hit back.” * * % *x T was in London the following spring that Marjorie Frenton next saw John Morrison. She had not been present at the interview with her father; was in ignorance that it had ever taken place until the next day. And on that next day John Mor- rison had disappeared, leaving mno trace. For a while she had waited, wondering whether he would write, but no word came. After all, why should he? There was nothing to write about. Tt was merely curiosity on her part—nothing more, of course. |A workman in evening clotes— enough to make anybody curious. And now there he was, three tables dining with a very pretty The Story of BY NELLIE SCANLAN. ! ot whale has an individual fish gained such distinction as Pelorous Jack. the wonder fish of New Zealand. When Sir John | Salmond, who represented that little | Dominion at the armament confer- | ence, arrlved in Washington, the first letter he received came from New | York and contained a request for the | biography of Pelorous Jack. Soun aft- o had s is Pelorous Jack?" He had heard the | strange story from the Anzacs at the | front. When I recounted the narca- |tive at a club in Hagerstowr, Md. {two men sobbed into their hzndker- chiefs. 1 fear they Thomases. who believed that all the | wonders of the world were housed in | America, and disliked to see the palm for the best fish story go to Ne Zealand. But when it comes to & real- {1y true fish story—well here it is, and you can judge for vourselves: | Away in the South seas, where the | Southern Cross keeps watch over th: | Pacific, this fish of unknown species, | singular in color and with habits and intuitions previously unheard of in a deep sea monster. lived a hermit existence. The coast line of N=w Zea- land s very broken and in one of the most beautiful of these fiords is Pelorous sound. Situated as it is on the northern corner of the ¥outk I land. ships plying between Welling- | ton, the capital city in the nortk, and Nelson in the south, passed the en- trance to Pelorous sound b2fore ne- gotlating the French pass, a narrow, dangerous channel between D'Urville Island and the mainland. In the earli- est days there was some argument as to whether New Zealand should be a Briush or a French colony. It was nearly a dead heat, but the British won by a nose. A French ship, when endeavoring to evade the British, chanced upon this narrow chanacl. and, preferring destruction to capture, took a sporting chanceand went full steam ahead. The pass was found to | be gaavigable and the vessel vscaved. |1t ‘ since been known as the French pass. * ok ok % JT was the sailors who first spoke of the strange fish which escorted the ships to the French pass. No one is so superstitious as yvour sailor, and with his Flying Dutchman and other maritime friends, it was not long be- | fore a supernatural element had been | woven into their story. Many of them |regarded Pelorous Jack as the rein- carnated spirit of a captain who had lost his vessel on the jagged rocks of the pass and had been condemned for an allotted span to pilot vessels. Tt !was at that time regarded as a good fish story—no more. Investigation, however, brought verification, and then photographs placed its authenticity beyond doubt. It had ceased to be a sailors’ story and passengers were always on the alert to see him. = Each day as the steamers neared the pass Pelorous Jack would come from his hermit home in the sound, his great, white, whalelike body plunging “through the water. For half an hour or so he would disport himself around the ship, and come up on the other side, race ahead, then come dashing back, and sometimes he would swim close In, rubbing himself affectionately against the steamer’s side. When nearing the | pass, Jack would give an extra dis- play, put on his star turn and then go plunging back to his home in the sound. Nelson, Sleepy Hollow, was par- ticularly interested in Jack. Nothing ever happened in. Nelson. Tucked away in a sunny corner among en- circling hills, a picturesque cathedral stands on an eminence, surrounded by “And 1 think you'd better go! Strongley turned his livid face on; Frenton will be delighted to hear it! “I didn't care a damn about | Don't get gay | ince the days of Jonah's| M. C. A.. in France, | were doubting| dive under | ;woman. He nadn’t seen her yet Probably wouldn't remember her when he did. After all, why shomld he? And at that moment their ey met. She looked away at once and started talking to the man next to her, but even as she spoke she knew John Morrison had risen and was coming toward her. “How are you, Miss Frenton?’ She looked: up into his face and met the glint of a smile in the lazy blue eyes “Quite well, thank you, Mr. Morri- son,” she answered coldly. Hullo, Joe!" A woman opposite ad begun to speak, with a puzzled frown at Marjorie’s words. “Morri- son! Why, Morrison? Have you bees masquerading, Joe, under an assumed name?” “I did for a while, Jane.” he said jcalmly, “to avold you. You knmow {how you pursued me with eligible | girls—battalions of ‘em. Miss Fren- ton, ranged in rows. 1 had to disap pear stealthily in the dead of night “Well, when are you going to ge! !married?” demanded the woman | 1aughing. | “Very soon, 1 hope. I do much het ter than you, Jane, in these thing { The girl I've got my eye on is a giri who summoned several hundred fa: { tory hands together and told ‘em gl | was sorry for a mistake she'd mad. And she halted a bit and stumbled I bit, but she got through with it. As then the men cheered ‘emselves sick “Good heavens, Joe! - Factor hands!” gasped the woman “Wha | sort of a girl is she?" “A perfect topper, Jane” Out o | | the corner of his eve he glanced = i Marjorie, whose eves were fixed her plate. “By the way, Miss Fren ton, has your father turned his work into a company yet?" “Not yet,” she answered very low “Ah, thals good!” He forced he {to meet his eyes, and there wa: | something more than a smile on his face now. “Well, I must go back to my sister. And I'll come and call to morrow, if 1 may. Jane will expose jmy wicked deceit doubtless.” “Mad—quite mad!" remarked { woman opposite as he went back his interrupted dinner. orrison did you sav? 1 knew he wanted { study ‘abor conditions first hand— why, heaven knows! He's got werks of his own or something. But all the | Carlakes are mad! And I'd got | splendid American girl up my sleeve | for him:"* “Carlake?’ said Marjorie, a little faintly. “Is that Lord Carlake”" | “Of course it is, my dear. Tha | Joe Carlake—made as a hatter’ | | wonder who the girl is the Pelorous Jack | a beautiful garden. From this a wide flight of steps leads down fo the quiet |little town, which, like the humblc publican of the Bible, kneels rever- ently below. On this flight of steps the people gather for public sorrow- | ings and rejoicings. There are flow- | ers evervwhere, and the air is drench- | ea with perfume, while the countrs roads run between miles of apple or- | chards and hop fields. Nelson is fu of wome a few men live there—in captivity. It is @ pleasant place to dwell when you are more than sev- enty, and long for peace and sun- | shine. No wonder they were inter- ested in Pelorous Jack, who was their nearest neighbor of note, and in whose reflected glory they shone To see Jack brought many visitors to the quiet little town, and a davlight pas- sage through the pass became a regu lar tourist trip. | 1t was then that Nelson's sentative in parliament spoke owhere in the world was there such h; his fame was spreading, and | people were coming from far and near | to see him. He was a national asset | as well as a unique specimen. What |if some foolish or malicious person should try to capture him? The gov- ernment agreed, and so it came about that a special act of parliament | passed for his protection. Peloro: | Jack has the distinction of being the | only fish in the world to have had special legislation enacted, under his | own name, to insure his safety. * ok K ¥ repre up [T© obtain photographs and snap- shots of Jack was often a haz- ardous matter. One adventurous tourist, who was said to have been an American, was determined to ge! one as Jack rubbed himself against the ship's side. Standing perilously perched on the deck rafl, he had just clicked the shutter when the vessel rolled, and he took a header into the cool blue waters. A life buoy was flung and he caught it, but his camera \ent down to Davy Jones. After that better facilities were provided for photography, and also greater safe- guards to prevent reckless passen- gers, in their endeavor to snap him, from joining Jack in his watery home One day when Pelorous Jack was escorting the S. S. Penguin, he got foul of the propellor and was hurt He immediately dived and disap- peared, and there was consternation on board lest the injury should prove fatal or Jack should cease to escort the ships. For several weeks he did not return, and then one day he came plowing through the waters o take up his old patrol duty beside the S. . Mapourika. But never again did Pelorous Jack accompany the S. S. Penguin, the boat which had injured him. Many theories have oves advanced as to how he could differ- entiate between the vessels, but it is an indisputable fact that this dis- crimination was shown by him, and i the object of vour voyage was to see Pelorous Jack, you were warned not to sail on the §. S. Penguin. During the later part of the var |3ack disappeared. It had been hoped that when his course was run Jack's body might be preserved in the Na- tional Museum. However, Pelorous Jack went as he had come, mys- teriously. Some time earlier the Ger- man raider Woulf had slipped through the protective cordon and laid float- ing mines at intervals along the New | Zealana coast. It is thought that |Jack must have come into contact with one of these and been blown 10 pieces, as no trace of his body has been found. All we know definitely is that the world's most famous pilot | fish has gone, but his special act of ! parliament is preserved in the ar- chives of the country. To the sailors he is still a cherished memory, and as the ships ply to and fro, bis strange history is an oft-told tale.