Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, May 30, 1896, Page 6

© HKKKHHRER @ CHAPTER V. Mr, Philbrick Goes Fishing. Early next morning Dr. Williams ‘vent to the undertaker’s and made a thorough examination of Starkweath- er’s body. A wakeful, restless night had left him greatly depressed, and he went away from the undertaker’s feel- ing worse than before. This was before breakfast, and shortly after it he set out for Fair- view. Mr. Philbrick was waiting for him at the junction of the main road and the short street, or lane, that led to the doctor’s house. “Good morning, doctor,” said Mr. Philbrick, cordially. “I saw you com- ing and waited for you. I presume bound for the professor's?” .” answered the doctor, making an honest but almost unsuccessful ef- fort to conceal his growing aversion for this man. “I’m going that way, too,” continued ’. Philbrick, ignoring, if he noticed, doctor’s coolness. hing?” queried Dr. Williams, ob- serving the other's attire and the jointed rod he carried. Mentally he yo added: “He wants me to talk about the death of Starkweather, but I won’t open my head!” “Yes,” said Mr. Philbrick. “I’ve tried most every stream and pool in the vicinity, and now I’m going to tackle the er.” “There was good fishing down by §aldo’s mill when I was a boy.” “Guess there is now, and I may work down to the mill. Hawkins told me that there was a good pool for perch near the professor’s house.” “It was one of the advertised attrac- tions of tbe place when it was a hotel tha ou could fish off the piazza.” “So I heard.” The men tramped on, Mr. Philbrick making commonplace remarks about the weather, scenery, etc. and the 4octor answering in monosyllables. When they were near Fairview Mr. Philbrick casually asked: y new developments in the local mystery, doctor?” “I don’t know of any, and I don’t know why it should be regarded as a Some of the townspeople seem that the cause of young Stark- weather's death isn’t — sufficiently clear.” “If they think that, and have told you about it, it strikes me that you are more in the way of knowing what the mew developments are than I am.” Philbrick smiled. “I hear only the idle gossip of the hotel,” he said. “I thought, perhaps, your further examination of the re mains this morning might throw some light on the matter.” Dr. Williams bit his lips to repress an angry retort. Why should this stranger watch his movements and pester him with questions and insinu- tions? He did not trust himself to peak, and after a moment Mr. Phil- brick added: “T was taking a constitutional befcre breakfast, and accidentally saw you at the undertaker’s. I said vothivg -about it, however.” “Thanks,” said the doctor, .ugrily. Mr. Philbrick smiled again—that cen- tented, annoying smile, and with a cheery “so long,” turned aside to go to the river bank. As the doctor climbed the steps to the piasza he saw him splicing his rod just beyond the ‘orders of the Fairview property. Louise met him at the door, and she ‘vas evidently glad to see him. She appeared to be much brighter than she was when he bade her good-night the evening before . “Are you all well, Miss Drummond?” asked the doctor. “Papa and I are well,” she answer- ed; “my cousin is suffering from a severe headache. She said little yes- terday; it isn’t her way to talk much; ‘but I think she was v sadly affected by what happened. Wasn’t it dread- ful, anyway?’ “Very,” responded the doctor, a little Jarred by the manner in which she teferred to the tragedy. “May I see Miss Willis?” “T'll ask her, but I doubt if she will think that she wants a prescription. You'll find papa in the dining room.” Dr. Williams entered the dining room ‘with a very uncomfortable feeling. He had battled in vain with his suspicions against the professor, and as vainly had he tried to keep his mind from Louise Met Him at the Door. gtudying the Fairview mystery. How could he meet this man face to face while he distrusted him? Prof. Drummond turned from the ‘window out of which he was gazing and addressed the doctor as calmly vas if nothing had happened. Dr. Will- dams rather nervously inquired about Miss Willis. “A little under the weather, but othing serious, I think,” responded o professor. “A young woman’s nerves and rather more sensitive to shock than a man’s, I suppose.” “Rather. And yourself?’ “Oh, I’m as well as ever. I confess that I was badly cut up yesterday morning; but I’m all right now.” “Have you giver the matter any further thought?” “Indeed I have, doctor! I was awake RINSSISSSIESSISIAS SSNS SIA © Professor’ S Secret. § most of the night with it. In one sense i’m as much in the dark as ever, but that Starkweather threw himself into the river is now a certainty in my mind.” “Can you account for his falling ap- parently dead in your hallway?” “Not satisfactorily; “ut, doctor, did you never hear of me. who possessed such unusual strength of will that they could control the action of the heart?” “I believe there are authenticated cases of men whose volition extended more or less to the heart’s action.” “I can’t help thinking that Stark- weather may have been such a man. I take it for granted that there was some secret in his life that brought him to the awful step of suicide. His very talk with me just befote the end was characteristic of some suiciles, you know. They often indulge in fan- ciful speculations about long ,ife, even to the extent of hilarity, while they are contemplating an end to every- thing within the hour. Well, grant- ing this, and it is essential to the the- ory of suicide, I suppose that Stark- weather did not wish any of us to sas- pect he had taken his own life. So he She Sank, Sobbing, Into a Chair. exercised that extraordinary faculty of checking the action of the heart. This he may have done only at the moments when I was examining him. When I had gone down stairs he may have re- covered in spite of himself, and in des- peration rushed to one of the side win- dows and thrown himself into the river. What do you think?’ “I'm afraid people generally would regard the theory as rather fanciful, professor.” “I was asking for pour own opinion.” The doctor hesitated, not daring to look the questioner in the eyes, and at last replied: “I am not prepared to accept the theory, and I have none as complete to advance in its stead. I can say frankly that it is no more strange than what has happened. In short, the stated facts appear to be more impos- sible than your theory to account for them.” “The stated facts, doctor?” returned Prof. Drummond gravely. “Are you using words with a careful apprecia- tion of their meaning?” “No,” hastily answered the doctor, feeling tne color rushing to his cheeks. “IT meant the accepted, the known facts.” “Oh,” was all the professor replied, and silence ensued. Prof. Drummond turned again to the window. Dr. Williams felt all at war with himself. He was acting out of character. Where was that blunt, fear- less indenpendence that led him oft- ener to the verge of quarrel with men than to beating about the bush, jug- gling with words and avoiding a square issue? He really regarded the professor’s theory as preposterous, and he wondered why the man ventured to advance it. He longed cry out against such shallow reasoning ani demand that the whole truth be told, for he could not believe that the pro- fessor had told the truth, but when he thought of Louise he found his inde- pendence gone, his convictions as to right and wrong wavering, just as they had when he viewed Starkweather'’s remains, and when he heard the p-o- fessor’s account of the tragedy the day before. “Is that somebody fishing down there on that little point of land beyond my property?’ asked the professor, press- ing his face against the pane to see more clearly. “Yes. Mr. Philbrick went down there just as I came in.” “Philbrook? Who is he?” “A city man who is summering at the Belmont. He is the one who drove up yesterday with Delos Hawkins.” “Oh, yes. Iremember. Pleasant fel- low, isn’t he?” “Very.” ‘A “Are you going to the funeral, doc- or?” “I—I don’t know,” replied the doc- tor hesitatingly. % Prof. Drummond might have asked some further questions, but Louise came in at the moment to say that her cousin would like to see Dr. Williams. Glad to escape from a conversation in which he felt that he was degrading himself by insincerity every moment, the doctor went out and preceded Louise up stairs. It was a relief to be near her, and he almost wished that Amelia would have a sick turn in order that he might call frequently and con- sult Louise about her condition. To his disappointment Louise showed him to the door of a room and hurried away. Miss Willis opened the door when the doctor knocked. Her face was drawn and haggard, but her movye- ments had none of the listlessness that generally accompanies a headache. “Where is Lou?” she asked. “She went down stairs.” “Then come in.” She threw the door open wider, and the doctor entered. It was the young ladies’ sitting room. “I am not ill, Dr. Williams,” said Amelia, as she closed the door and faced him. I wish I were. I wish I were dead! I'm not, and I’ve got to live, I suppose.” % | set down. He started up the branch | road, but stopped when he came to a She hesitated, and a faint glow of color appeared upon her c! “You have been unnerved,” began the doctor, sympathetically. “Yes, I know,” she interrupted, “but I don’t want medicine. I hadn’t meant to see you, but as you called—I could not tell Lou, I never have told her much, and as they would think your talk was merely professional—it seemed to me I could speak with you as I might not to another.” Her voice broke, and she angrily dashed away the tears that gathered in her eyes. “Um incoherent,” she exclaimed, bit- terly, “when I want so much to much to speak plainly, but I can’t.” The doctor was somewhat excited. “Was it something about Mr. Stark- weather?” he asked. “Yes.” “You know something about the— about him that would explain his sud- den taking off?” “No, doctor; a thousand times, no! There is no one more mystified than I at the terrible event, and I can see but one explanation that doesn’t explain! I suffer from the most critical thoughts and tears. Dr. Williams, I know pos- itively that there was nothing in Mr, Starkweather’s life or prospects to make him unhappy or tired of life.” Dr. Williams was deeply stirred. He was conscious of an impulse to shut his ears to what this girl would tell him, or fly from her presence and keep himself in ignorance of any further details with respect to the Fairview mystery. On the other hand, there was that native revulsion against the mysterious, that imperious demand of his nature to know the truth. This impulse won. “A confidential conver- sation,” he reflected, “between physi- cian and patient——” “You have heard the suicide theory, then?” he asked. “Yes; it has been dinned into my ears.” “And you reject it?” “Utterly.” The doctor was facing her, just as when the talk began. Amelia was, perhaps, two yards distant. Sudden- ly, she advanced a step, clasped her hands, and spoke in a voice of ago- nized appeal: “Dr. Williams, it may be wrong in me to ask this of you. You are not bound to take mor? than a profession- al interest in this matter; but I can’t stop to think of that. I must beg you to help me solve this awful mystery. My mind will break under it, doctor, but that dosn’t concern you. You are a physician; you ought to want to know the truth. As you are a sincere man, as you love your profession, I beg you to leave no means untried to discover the truth. You can do what I cannot—” She could go no further. The tears burst forth in spite of her, and she sank, sobbing, into a chair. Dr. Williams was unmoved by her weeping, but he was profoundly in- fluenced by her appeal. “Tears are her best medicine,” he re- flected. “Miss Willis,’ he said, aloud, “you have restored me to myself. I prom- ise you to do what you ask.” She bowed her head in recognition of his promise, and after a moment looked up and said, more calmly: “I shall go with them to the funeral. We shall start in a few moments. Go down stairs now, say you have pre- scribed for me if you like. You have really helped me.” The doctor withdrew, and his face Was so grave when he joined the pro- Tried to Open the Door. fessor and Louise in the hall that they exclaimed, in anxiety: “She is not seriously ill,” he hastily assured them. “She will be down in a few minutes.” The carriage was even then ready to start for the funeral, that was to be held in the village church. Amelia did not keep the others waiting. She seemed perfectly composed but very sad when she came down. “Ought she to go, doctor?” asked the professor. “It will be better than to stay here alone,” he replied. “L will stay with you, dear,” said Louise. “No; I prefer to go,” responded Amelia, with quiet positiveness. “Will you go with us, doctor?” asked Prof. Drummond. ‘“There’s plenty of roum.” “No. I'll call on a patient, and per- haps go to the chureh later. You may take me part way if you like.” He accordingly climbed into the front seat with the professor. When they came to a road that branched off at a point out of view from the pro- fessor’s house, the doctor asked to be thicket. After the carriage had gone on he climbed over the wall at the roadside and set off aercss the field in the direction of Fairview. When he came to the top of a knoll that commanded a view of the river he paused again. It was net more than an eighth of a mile to the house, and he could see it clearly. He lay down in the grass, for he feared that Mr. Philbrick, who was mountiag the piazza steps, might turn around and | see him. Mr. Philbriek did, indeed, turn when he reached the top o* the steps. No human being was in sight. After a moment he stepped across the piazza and tried to open the front door. CHAPTER VI. The Doctor's Sport. It was because Mr. Philbrick had gone fishing in the vicinity of Fair- view that the doctor left tae carriage angling was a mere pretext for some ulterior purpose, what, he could not imagine. He could hardly Lave told why he suspected the man, and that he was influenced »y intutive distrst, ‘was another cause for irritation, for the doctor took pride in being a man of science, and as he hated mysteries, he scorned to be influenced by any- thing that did not proceed from cr ap- peal directly to reason. The trouble with Dr. Williams was that he was exactly Jike other men in most respects, and that Le had not yet grown old enough to know it. It is a rare man in whom reason main- tains an uninterrupted donination, a rarer still who is utterly unmoved by impulses arising from instinct. Mr. Philbrick tried the front door of Prof. Drummond’s house and found it locked. He stood, arms akimbo, look- ing at it a moment, and inen went leisurely to the French -»windows that faced the piazza. He Gid not try to raise any of them, for lie conld see that they were fastened. Presently he descended the steps and disappear- d beneath the piazza in the direction of the basement door. Dr. Williams’ mind was in a tumult. He lay there in the grass on the top of the knoll trying te make up his mind what he ought to do. The thing that had formed itself in bis thoughts as a vague sibitity bed happened. Mr. Philbrick had taken advantage of the expecied absence of all occupants from Fairview to go into the house, or, at least, to tiy to get in. That he was led to his course could be for no other reason tuan that he was determined to uaravel ite mys- tery of the recent tragedy. It mattered nothing that there was no apparent reason for his making an investigation. He had denied that he was personally acquainted with Starkweather, but that may have been 2 lie. The fact was beyond doubt that he hoped by a search within the house to mind a clue to the cause of Jeath, some cive, that meant, to the guilt 07 ?rof. Drum- mond. The doctor tried to marshul his thoughts in logical array. He recalled his promise to Amelia, a promise made in all sincerity and with a conscious- ness that it might lead him to tae cer- tainty that Prof. Drummond wis a murderer. He said 19 himself that that promise was made as much cn his own account as on account of the young woman who asked for it. He declared to himself :hat he was hound in honor not only to her, but to his own self-respect to keep that promise, no matter what might be the end of his investigation. And he would keep that promise—but that did uot mean that he was to permit another ard a stranger to delve into the same ter- rible secret. It was one thing to as- sure himself if the facts so warranted that the professor had been guilty cf the greatest crime recogaized !.y inen’s laws, and another thing vo proclaim it. With this reflection came the all- compelling influence of tis lore for Louise, and he recalled how he had more insight into the mystery than any other man in Belmont; how tor the sake of his love he had endeavored to disarm his first suspicions and to suppress what might see ijike evidence of guilt to the unthinking. He kad reasoned that Starkweather might have been the victim of accident, snd that the professor, fearful of the con- sequences if the exact truth were known, had invented a lame tule to account for the young man's death. Better, the doctor had thought, that this distorted invention of an excited moment should pass current, if the community would accept it, than that general suspicion should be provoked to action and to an investigation in which the discovery of the facts would be the more damaging to the professor by reason of his prevarication. In any event, Louise must be saved from knowledge of her father’s guilt, if guilt it should prove to be. That could not be accomplished if this stranger were permitted to make an investigation with a hostile mind, with prejudices against the suspected man, with the power to distort every appearance into a certainty of guilt. If the truth must be found, and it must be, it should be found by himself, the doctor, and known only to himself —perhaps. So, in spite of the possibility that Mr. Philbrick might be able to accom- plish as much,as himself, and thus un- wittingly fulfill Amelia’s desire for the truth, the doctor came to an end of his hurried and confused reasoning, and rose from the «grass determined to go at once to Fairview, and by one means or another prevent Mr. Philbrick from learning anything to Prof. Drum- mond’s disadvantage. The doctor did not go directly across the fields to the house by the river. He returned to the road, feeling that it would-be better, if possible, to avoid any open antagonism to Mr. Philbrick, and to that end he wished to return to Fairview to appear to be a casual and ordinary. The angler had gone beneath the piazza, and had disap peared from the doctor’s view as soon as he was within the shadow of the strueture. Without reflecting that al- though everything beneath the piazza was invisible from the knoll, all the The Window Was Raised a Few Inches. country between Fairview and Bel mont would be in plain sight to any- body standing under the structure, Dr. Williams hurried down to the road with no attempt to conceal his presence. When he reached the road he was again at a point. where the building was invisible, and it was not until he had walked for a half minute or more that he again saw it. Mr. Philbrick was still out of sight, and the doctor wondered if he had effected an entrance by means of a basement door or window. With grow ing anxiety he hurried on. Arrived at the steps, he hesitated an instant and and turned back. He suspected that ; then went beneath. The an; front of the house nor at the narrow, short strip of rock that lay between the foundation walls and the water on the river side. A basement window looked out upon the river. It was open a few inches. The doctor went to the extreme end of the strip of rock. Be- yond that the foundation walls rose directly from the river. He braced hfmself against the building and found that it was possible to lay one hand on the window ledge. It was, therefore, possible for an athletic man to enter the house by way of this window, but not even so slender a man as Mr. Philbrick could have crowded through the narrow opening made by the partly raised win- dow. “He may have lowered it after get- ting inside,” thought the doctor, and in the same instant it occurred to him to wonder whether Mr. Philbrick had wet his feet while dangling from the window ledge before passing through. Upon the Piazza Rail. If he had the floor within would be marked by his tracks. The doctor was tempted to try to follow the invader by the same route, but in the same brief moment while he was debating the matter his attention was attracted by a musical plunk! as of small object falling into the water behind him. Turning about he saw a slender line extending above the piazza into the stream. With a hot sense of confusion and discomfiture he retraced his way cau tiously to the piazza steps and mount- ed. He then strolled with a fine as- sumption of indifference t othe river side, and there, picturesquely huddled upon the piazza rail, with his heels caught against the posts, his head down between his shoulders, his eyes placidly observing the bobbing of his float, sat Mr.. Fhilbrick. There was a short pipe in his mouth, his fisher- man’s basket lay on the piazza back of him, and his sensitive rod quivered with the vibration caused by the cur- rent. Dr. Williams walked on slowly and sat dawn on the rail, back to the stream, near the angler. Mr. Philbrick never moved. “Just had a promising bite,” he mur- mured between his teeth, for he kept his grip on his pipe. “Guess you scared him away.” He spoke as unconcernedly as if the doctor were his companion for a day’s sport, and had been with him almost uninterruptedly. “Sorry,” said the doctor. “Oh, never mind, he'll come again if he’s anything like the perch I used to catch when I was a boy.” The float continued to dance prettily on the wavelets, and for several sec- onds the doctor kept his head turned toward the stream, watching the line with disquieting fascination. He was at a loss what to say or do, but he held grimly to his determination not to leave Fairview until the professor and his family had returned. “Pah! pah! pah!”’ puffed Mr. Phil- brick, in a vigorous endeavor to in- spire his pipe with more activity. “Say, doctor, hold my line a minute, will you? My confounded pipe don’t draw.” Without waiting for assent he hitch- ed around on the rail, still clinging by his heels, and put the rod in the doctor’s hands. Dr. Williams resented the familiarity of the action, but, ut- terly unprepared for it and _ feeling himself at disadvantage, he held the rod as requested. He heartily wished that the rod had accidentally dropped into the river during the transfer, but once it was in his grip he would have been but half a man had he let go. It was a beautiful specimen of the angl- er’s outfit—light,-sensitive and strong; and as he felt its tiny vibrations Dr. Wiliams actually wished that he were fishing himself. It brought back the careless joys of his boyhood, and he was conscious of envying the man who sat near him digging at his pipe with a pocket knife, muttering half seriuos, half comic abjurgations.on the com- fort-giving article. Suddenly the doctor wheeled about and stood up. There is no sense in holding a rod with one’s back to the stream. If one must have a rod in his unwilling hands he might as well go the whole business and attend to it. The float was way under water, and when it bobbed out of sight the doc- tor had felt that thrilling quiver along the pole than which is nothing to stir a man’s blood more keenly unless it be the gentle pressure of a maiden’s hand, Mr. Philbrick stopped digging his pipe and looked on interestedly. The | blowing, through reel was clicking merrily as the doc- tor wound and wound, watching the water where the line shot back and forth; and feeling the steady tug of Mister Fish as he was, drawn nearer and nearer the surface. They caught a flashing glimpse of his scaly body as he, turned frantically beneath the water. The doctor’s forehead moisten- ed with glorious excitement. “It’s a dandy, Doc!” exclaimed Mr. Philbrick, dropping knife and pipe and getting down from the rail, “swing him close in and I'll help you land him!” All thought of resentment had van- ished from the doctor’s mind. The tragedy of human life disappeared in the struggle to overcome and destroy that inferior life in the river. Intent upon his purpose, the doctor swung the pole carefully about until it was parallel with the piazza. Then Mr, Philbrick laid hold of the line and drew up a great perch, such a prize as any angler would be proud to lay on top of his basket to exhibit to ad- miring eyes on his way home. r was not there, neither in| “By jovel what luck you have, doc~’ »" gaid Mr. Philbtick, that's four tne better than anything I’ve got so far.” “He's a good one,” admitted the doc- tor, oe ashamed of biel a the éxcit Dit») a igret- ting the fecling pfyeomradéstlp, that the event called forth. e Mr. Philbrick seemed to feel that the most cordial relations had been estab- lished and as, he unhooked the perch and rebaited:'the-hook, he chattered away in sportsmanlike fashion, con- gratulating Dr. Williams and even suggesting a day’s sport together. “Throw in again, doctor?’ he said in a tone that took it for granted that the doctor would gladly accept the op- rtunity. eNO, thank you, “fix your pipe and fish for yourself. I don’t care for it. “{ hate to discredit a man,” laughed the angler. “but I could swear that you were a genuine fisherman by the way, you managed that fellow.” The doctor was silent for a moment, while Mr. Philbrick resumed work up- on his pipe. Then he said: “Mr. Philbrick, it is hard for me to disguise my feelings, or to be any- thing but frank. I may as well tell you that I came back here because I saw you trying to get into the house.’ “Did you?’ responded the angler, his,.pipe to find whether it were clear; “it was a good deal of trouble, but you had some sport out of it, didn’t you?” Dr. Williams shut his jaws together to repress his anger, that flamed quick- ly sat this man’s insolent indifference. He succeeded in asking with calmness: “Why did you try to open the front door?” Mr. Philbrick looked,up. with an amused smile. : “See here,” he said rising, and he led the way to the front door. “It has a Yale lock, you see,” he continued pointing to it; “well, when the family had gone to the funeral Lthought it would do no harm to, drop my line from the piazza. I’m not aéquainted with the Drummonds, and as a request from a stranger might not be welcome, I concluded to fish here without asking permission. So I trotted up. I saw tat the lock had not caught. The door evidently needs planing, for it took quite a jerk to pull it to. I re gretted it as soon as I had done so. Mr. Philbrick gazed at the doctor with an ingenious smile. “Why?” asked the doctor. “I knew. you'd ask, Because I wanted a chair to sit on while fishing, and I thought it would be no harin to borrow one. I had spoiled my epportu- nity for comfort. All the windows were fastened. I had locked myself out, and when I explored below the pi- azza, I found I couldn't get in there, either. Of course, it was unmanly to think of such a thing, but there would have been no harm done, would there?” “Perhaps not,” answreed the doctor, somewhat confused by the man’s im- perturable frankness, ‘but it hardly, seems to me the part of a gentleman to invade a stranger’s house.” Mr. Philbrick looked solemn. “Well,” he said, with a sigh, “you speak doubtless as a friend of the fam- ily ,and so I apologize. I will with- draw. I presume you will have no ob» Lost His Footing and Went Down, jection to my casting in from the top of the ledge at the back?” “I disclaim any right to object,” re- sponded the doctor, stiy ,and he turned away to conceal the flush that he felt on his face. Mr. Philbrick slowly gathered up his traps and went around the house. The doctor sat on the steps and waited un- til the professor and the ladeis came home. Once or twice he went to the river side of the piazza and saw Mr. Philbrick’s rod projecting from the ledge at the end of the house. The professor was surprised to see the doctor. “I thought,” said the latter, “that Miss Willis might be in need of some restorative.” . “No,” said Amelia, “I am_ better, thank you.” The professor drove around to the stable without unlocking the door,,and while waiting for him the doctor and the young ladies strolled to the river side of the piazza. “Look there!” cried Louise, clutching at the doctor’s arm. She pointed to the ledge. Mr, Phil- brick had crept so far along its steep side in his eagerness for sport, that he had come to a place directly over the water, and just as Louise spoke he lost his footing and fell down. As he slipped he sprang,’as well‘as he could, away from the rock, in order to avoid bruises, and fell with a loud splash into the stream, (To Be Continued.) Not Quite Yet. “Still putting up high buildings, ¥¥° see,” said the stranger. “Oh, yes,” replied the native care lessly. “How do you do it now?’ asked the stranger. “How? I don’t believe I understand you,” answered the native. “Why, I have heard so many re markable things about your methodg of construction and the improvemen: that have been made in them,” sai the stranger, “that I didn’t know—] wasn’t quite sure that—that—” “Well? That what?” “That you hadn’t reached a vin where you begin at a cloud and Bain down.” Fea ns Ses ak sey the nativg oug) ly;“but we’ tting —Chicago Post. he eae meagre