The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 26, 1903, Page 2

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an¢ I'm usually rather quick But yours sounded when you spoke through your s it happens, eventful night for e, 1id nat have told why he should ot see that acting instance do And somehow he found him- fascination le personality which he whom F. E. Z. had known, hate or affec- hand over this w who you were that night, Newcome said. “But I remem- 1 seldom find ings to talk ccurred to me n good earne fighter resting DIE man among s for a fight— new hunter which he thinks of securing. Newcome felt that there were things in rim of more worth than his muscles and the proposal made by the miilionaire liked lum not. But only this morning he had teid himself that he would do anything for a hundred pounds, even to commit- ting & erime. Not for his own necessities, though he wanted money badly enough. but for another usg, upon which he had set his heart and soul. Now, here was the chance of earning much more than the sum -he had thought of—a chance which a few hours ago had seemed as far eway from him as the stars in heaven. Tt would be madness to think of letting it sitp. But Macaire believed that he was hes- itating in the hope of a larger bribe. That bribe he had meant to offer by and by; now, however, he proceeded to “spring” it at once “Two thousand pounds ie the purse for which u would put on che sai But I'm rather a whimsic 1 like my jest with the world, whi played some bard tricks on me, and in this our that you and I have had together an idea has' come into my head concern- Ing you. Two thousand pounds Is a go~d enough purse, maybe, but it's not a for- tune, and 1 hinted to you that you might make your fortune. If you knock the Kid t L but how wouid at same time to blossom rich young man about town, me and enough money to buy you a place in soclety? A piace as good as mine, for instance?” Mucaire watched the dark face, but it changed very little. There was only a quivering of the lips for a second which ended In a smile—not exactly the gort of emotion that the lljonaire had ex ted to call up. He had lovked for nishment The higher the place the better I should ke it,” said New ome, laughin “But 1 don't sce any ladder to begin the cilmb on at present.” If you fight Joey the Kid and lck turned Macaire. In the vernac s Kind, “I'll provide the ladder. e fight's over I shall Introduce my friends as a sporting young rine who did the thing for & lavk them the tip that you have a pile of money and that you something of London life. pretty well for myself, and I'm u- hin r the sort of t that I like; but people in English society who iemselves too good for me in spite ney. There are white if [ ask them to, be- e got what they want. You saall Kinds. You must have a guod urse—a title would be the best st an English one couldn’t I'm afraid. You'd have to put preign makeshift. What would ~er—let me see, Baron \ others who'll be least, Macaire ha ment, for the y m chin to forehead. *“How did to think of that for a name? no need for g man's face because t hich has lapsed, f & man with the right to bear it: ause it's not lmportant encugh doubted and disputed, and partl an a 1 in my mind." you ohject to telilng me what fon is all. When be u recalled to me t T had seen ycu at the Duke ce Theater o night some » 1 remembered that I then friend ‘Anderson who You were, t an was sent to me of introduction from th wus F. E. 2. Well, | knew F. Uy—a long time ago, when she ery young and 1 not much cider. 1t 2d been u man she would h e been von Zellheim. You knew her per- I suppose? Did she ever mention She spoke of her antecedents.” ie had married and had & son he have been the Baron von Zeilhelm as a matter of fact, I believe she d4id marry. He you may w better than I abo! remarked Newcome, coc her private life, until I had t of meeting her, 1 knew ver tle.” This time his expression toid more than his words unde clatio Seeing Anderson - no and w quleiiy expla you, and reme; sald, brous eavtiful which 1 ng beggin P 1 1 German name and nobody to dis e It, if you choose to keep your shut. As the lady is your friend at I men ght 8— is dead!” cut in the eorge Anderson b after recei me. B e and reg however, that s leat the family title to her youn if it cculd serve him. should it serve me? other. notifed Ma- tion from frected 2 cer- would giad millh et. He stii * asked New- Nd offer foundation to begin with the moucy 1 should put wur service, would at once give you B into soclety—real society, I I don’t understand at my vet why yeu service,” New- [ should like above trick on the because of seelug you one by storm ng you flat- run after, and made much of, recommendation. 1 tell you, if you fight the Kid for me and cume out on top all have six months of such life aps you've never dreamed of. "he thought that flashed through Hope me’s head was: “Six months cuzht ) be enough for my purpc With such ce us this madmun offers me for dcesn’t want me to guess at, only give the heip I would se!l but I shouid be able to to keep my oath as weli And at the end of the six months alovd “fter me. grimiy. " he the deluge, smiled Ma- Vhy, at the end of the six 1= 1 should come to the kernel of .y juke. Wouldn't be wiiling to heip me crack the shell? “I don’t know what you mean by that. Perhaps you don't wish me to.” “I confess I'm fond of & harmless mys- tery,” answered the man just baffled by (he mystery wrepped round the vanished figure of u girl. “if I—merely to amuse my=elf—not out of any exaggerated whim 10 be generpus—offer you a—er—aalary, we'll call it, of & thousand pounds a month for six months, and let you do what you like without asking questions, wouidn't you grant me mj mystery till the end of that phase of our partnership? I've never yet taken any money I en’t earned,” sald Newcome. I mean you shall earn this. At first, th the fight (the thing's off if the Kid might be. Besides, he might not win in that fight, supposing he went in for it Yes, he would do it. Let all depend upon that. It must be Fate's decision, not his. “Well?" inquired Macaire. “How long will you give me to decide?"” “PFive minutes. The fight to be twenty rounds, Queensberry rules, two-ounce gloves, a decision on points if you stick it out till the finish. Fifty pounds in your hand before you leave the room for your immediate expenzes, living and training— for you'd want a sparring partner and a Jot of odds and ends. The best thing for A= CALL. THE SU!D even ouc of the five minutes to go by. CHAPTER XXIL A BACKWARD GLANCE. ‘When Winifred Gray had cried out her broken prayer for help on the night of her great trial at the theater, Mrs. Purdy had honestly striven to comfort the girl. The old woman thought that the young one made far too much of the ordeal through which she was expected to pass, and bluntly said so. “What's an extra petticoat here or there?” she had scorn- 'You've a daughter of your own,” she sald. “For her sake, and for my moth- help me. It isn't only this scene that is so dreadful. There is far more than that. A man—a very rich man—has per- secuted and plotted against me. My play- ing Mazeppa and belng here at all to- night 1s part of the trick. He would spoil my whole life if he could—I think he has nearly spoiled it now. This is to bring me into the dust under his feet; and he would be glad if the shame of it killed my mother, who is very-ill, for then I should have no one on earth to care for or pro- . claime] Mrs. Purdy. “It's your eyes—I think—and the. look of your face now. I'll never forget till the day I dle, seeing her cryin’ because of a trouble a bit like yours. Why, If there was anything I could do for you, miss, I'd do it and be glad, for my gal's sake, and the look on you like my lady. But what could a body like me do that would be any use? In fif- teen minutes you'll be on the stage, and ‘But_there are tho fifteen minutes first. Somehow, if you would, you might smuggle me out of the theater, and then, 1f you cowid tell me what to do just for the night—'" “Hist!" whispered the old dresser, hold- ing up a finger of warning. “Some one 18 coming to the door.” Winifred {was hushed Into instant si- lence, her wet eyves large and shining, her lips parted for hurried, uneven breaths, Knuckles rapped out a summons on the door. It was then that the stage manager had asked Mrs. Purdy how she was get- ting on. With a quick, meaning glance at Winifred, her answer had been that she was “getting on as well as could be ex- pected.” Then he had been induced to go away, and the parley had begun again where It had been so abruptly broken off. “Supposing T could get out out—I don’t say 1 could, but supposing”—the dresser went on, “you couldn't go to your lodg- ings, could you? This rich man vou're talkin’ about, he's sure to know where you lodge, eh?" ‘They have my addr: here at the theater. He could#asily have found out.” hen he has found out. You may bet .on that, miss. The search for you would begin the minute they discovered you'd given "em the slip. And if you was to and get to London, even, the raliway sta- tions would be the very places they'd look for you.” haven't a penny. I couldn’t go to London it I wanted to,” sald Winifred. “I'm even in debt at lodgings—for I was counting on my salary at the end of the week."” here It is, you se ‘Ah, but I can earn money, somchow. Hide me at your house and I swear I'll pay you back ene 4 before long. Do help me. In a few minutes it will be too late.” As the girl talked she had begun un- astening the hated silken garments for A zeppa’s ‘‘great But, as she would have begun hurriedly dressing her- self in her own clothes, Mrs. Pt with a shrewd glint in her little eyes, lald a restraining hand on the girl's arm “If you want to get off without leaving scene.” a trace,” she said, quickly, “you mustn't put on one of your own things. And look here, it fsn’t payment T was thinkin’ of, s somethin’ else. My gal's got diph- theria, and I've kep' it from the doctor: so she could be nussed at home. €0 at the thought of go She's better nov:. but she's | Afn't you d No," an Winifred help ree her. I'm a good nurse—my mother ‘s some one helpin’ me now—a But we can make room for you lodger. comehow, only you may get the disease.’ “T'd rather die Winifred “Well, then, this is what I've been thinkin'. Lucky enough, when I come I puts in my pocket a hood 4 was knittin’ for my gal. It's finished, all but the strings. And this worsted shawl I've got for my rheumatics, you could hav that. No one would notice I'd took it off. And T could spare you a few p a petticoat was a dre than stay here,” cried o ade a bit shorter. The leave all 3 clothes as they are and I'd make ‘em think you'd gone out for you scene—that u couldn’'t have left the theater, whatever you did. 1'd keep ’em waitin’ as long as I could, too, If only you had a thick vell now, to hide your face you could slip out of th Jeffrey's back was turnec and make stre you'd a might pass by every the plac: room while I'd peep first chance. You stage-hand about and the doorkeeper, too, before anybody dreamed you weren' bein” dressed In here for your next scene. Miss Emmet, one of the ballet girls, wears hood like this: I knitted it for heg myself, and you're about her size. She IcAves the theater after the first act. If you could go now, it would be about her time, and with-a veil—-" “My black chiffon fich cried Wini- fred. “Doubled, it would hide my face. In five minutes she was dressed and ready to go. Mrs. Purdy peered out, even her old heart beating fast with excite- ment. Jeffrey talking to Sellm's groom behind the big screen. No one was looking. “Now whispered the old woman. “Don’t forget the I've told you to go when you get out. Now's your one chance. Winifred took it. Mrs shut the door after her and locked ft, muttering to herself. She had, while get- ting the girl ready for the venture, told her how she must, when she passed through the stage entrance, go to the left, take the second turning to the right, first to the leTt again and soon throush confus- ing directions until she should come to a little street called Salt street. The Purdy house was No. 18 (there where but twenty houses in the street), but the old woman feared that Winifred would never find her way. 8She had said that she would be certain to remember the directions, since so much depended on not forgetting: still, Mrs. Purdy doubted that the girl's con- fused, excited mind could possibly retain them without getting hopelessly mixed. Bhe had done all that she could do, how- ever, and in the midst of her misgivings a crabbed sense of humor set her laugh- ing at the thought of Winifred Gray's slim little feet flopping through the streets in the Purdy goloshes—for the smart pat- ent leather shoes had been left behind with everything else that was Winifred's. The old woman’s meditations were in- terrupted by another call from the stage manager, and she had gained , thrge or four minutes’ time for the fugitive by her complaints that it was difficult to dress other people who were fainting. “In for a penny, in for a pound,” was her motto; and her conscience was not of the mimosa_type, which shrinks from a fib or two. In fact, she was to tell many more before the night was out, and with such innocent eyes that her prevarications would have done credit to an accomplished actress. But she, though feeling her tcumph, was desperately impatient to be at home. “What had happened there?” she contin- ued to ask herself, under the placld mask of the commonplace, dried-apple face. Had the poor, distracted lassie ever found her way through the darkness? Meanwhile, however, Winnie had found the house, though not without adventure, and when she knocked was amazed to see it opened by a masked minstrel. CHAPTER XXIIL was Purdy softly Winifred's heart warmed to her refuge. Somehow she suddenly discovered that she was not as unhappy as she had beer. She felt a sudden accession of courage and hope, though there was little which could reasonably account for eithér emo- tion. e e ————————————————————————— The man’s was pale, and his dark eyey were bright. 1f Winifred had possessed the slightest clew to his strong feeling she might have wondered at the light in his eyes. His expression was that which a man might wear in dreaming a wonder ful dream from which he feared tc awakened. But Winifred was not mood for subtle comparisons, and she realized more keenly than she had a their. last meeting that his face was and virile, and singularly attractive | way that she could feel without analy ing. ¢ She wondered, mervously, If he w ask any questions, but he did not, ar secemed to her that he was making an e fort to pass the whole matter off as it were but a mere commonplace oc —nothing to excite surprise at all Then suddenly it struck her that it was curious they two should have been t T together again and be talking mo miliarly in & calm, everyday way, igr ing all that made h on t or anxtous and knowing absol ing of one another's lives. Yet, now that thought of it this man know nothing of her life? she had told him n But he had be at the Duke of C ace's that night, a now he was here in Brighton. He mig: have had some superficial knowiedge her as an actress in the beginning and possibly he had asked questions. At leas ke could hardly be ignorant of her na after what he had done In her serv outside the stage door of the London the. ater; and if he remembered it he must know that Winifred Gray was billed to et in “Mazeppa’ to-night and after. The blood rushed up to her face as th conviction seized her. What he had already learned Mrs, Purdy would prob ably tell him. Somehow the girl ¢ hardly bear that he should know all the truth. It would be horrible to feel that she was assoclated his mind with a man of Lionel Macaire's reputation, Of course, there was no reason why shs should care what this poverty-stricke: young minstrel, who masked himself and played his banjo in the public streets thought of her, even though, whatever outward circumstances, he was certainly.. by birth and breeding a wentleman. Stiil Winifred did care, disproportionately, cruelly She was seized with a vivid desire to discover how much he already knew. All the brief, sweet restfulness had vanished with those though “Do you know my name?’ she asked, abruptly. “Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “I hope you don’'t mind my remembering it so wel You are M Winifred Gray I couldn't help Inquiring at the theater that night; and the doorkeeper told me. As for me—not that you'd be interested, still I'd ¥ e to tell you—I call myself Hope Newcome. It's not my real name; I mere- ly chose it because it meant somethin to me, for a sort of mission that brou me to Englar 1 shall drop it when that misston’'s But I haven't told anybody else “Thank you for trusting me,” sald Win- ifred, guessing that he had told her just to show his trust and to let her see that she was not the only one who had secr. to keep. “I can't feel that we're strang- ers after what you did for me that other night. I've never forgotten. But there are other things I want to ask you. Did you know that I was to have acted in Brighton? Of course, though, you must Lave seen the bills. As she spoke her eyes fell and her col- or rose, for she seemed to see one ter- rible poster with a crowd about it. Per- haps he had been one of that crowd * sald Hope Newcome for it was because he had he had come Brighton. flushed a little, known that But he wouid not tell her that. He could not tell her how he had been tempted that night when he had first seen her (and the whole world had seem- ed the brighter and sweeter for his knowledge of her) to follow and find where she lived, merely that he y sometimes pass the house and look the windows. He could net tell her of his astel:ish- ment and pain when he had read i & pa- per that Miss Winifred Gray had sud- denly severed her connection with tre Duke of Clarence’s ater. He nmieant somehow to get the monmey f. seat on the first night of “As You It" to see her as Celia, but the of Claren. had lost its attractic bim when he knew that she was gone. Like Duke CHAPTER XXIIL PARTNERS. He could not tell her that, nor how of- ter. he had thought of her, wondering wh er she were still in London; whether she were ill or weil; whether she were Testing” or rehearsing for some new piay of which he had missed the an- nouncement. He could hardly have looked her in the face to-night if she dould have guessed lew when he had read that she was In Lrighton, he had hastily answered an ad- vertisement in a dramatic paper requiring & banjo player and singer of American “plantation” melodies for a negro min- strel party to open at an early date at a cheap music hall In that seaside town. He cculd play the banjo well, and a very gucd one which he had had since his col- :':PEA’:’"A)‘S was still In his possession; that s, grim necessity had n yet obi Lim to pawn It. " b e He had got the engagement as the manager was In a hurry and ready to take almost anybody. And he had beea delighted with the chance, though he would have to black his face with burnt cork every night, assoclate with cads and bounders, and recelve In exchange for mis services the sum of £1 a week. As a matter of fact, the pound was forthcoming for one week, and no more. Business was bad and the manager dis appeared before treasury day of the ond week, leaving the five members of the troupe to do as best they coul What Hope Newcome did was to stay and heip his lanlady take care of her sick daughter. When his funds failed he put - on a mask, which Mrs. Purdy made at request, and went out into the street or down by the sea with his banjo, earn- ing not only mc encugh to pay his way, but to provide some little delicacies for the invalid, which otherwise she would bave to do witheut Unassisted, he would perhaps not have thought of this method of refliling his empty pocket: but - when the “ghost™ ed to alk” for the “Six J Niggers™ Clara Purdy had suggested the idea. Newcome had come to oeccupy the one room her mother had to let, befors a cold Lad developed for her into serious iliness, and she had not long before been earning a few shi &8 In the same way herself. Having no engagement for this year, she Lhad been in the habit of going out, masked, to sing popular music hall airs, with a sweet, untrained voice, and she Lad thought that Hope Newcome might utilize his rich tenor and his banjo. So he had taken her advice and had been in Brighton three weeks. But there was very little of this which could be ex- ocks you out); afterward, at the end of =ix months. Oh, you needn't look so dicious, my friend. 1 swear 1 would all ki plained or even mentioned to Winifred The masked singer gave her a chair and Gray. And if he could tell her nothing she sat down, consclous that she was who a Soc " & 1 wot faintly embarracsed in his presence. He about himself, still less could he ask her " v ow L ‘;l"’l"'l"":;‘é’e-l W:}‘ you "‘t"' had recognized her voice, just as she ha] Guestions. He must be content for the X ¢ der my house, and s, 5 }ne }n E r:la.- ng me for recognized his; they knew each other and Present with the crumbs that she cared e is wiser. Last sprng . - Y WRyS she desired to account to him in to throw to him. some Lionel Mac: nel Macaire, with his hideous, scarred commonplace manner for her ansmalous nd palé eyes, d!d not look & person R And hew content he was! &00d glove fight—Joe tered what wind had buffeted her within Joe the Kid, and a » o R he did not see how to 4o ) - to whom trust would naturally flow out; POsIBOu; S Ret e & - e iay. 1 v\»““{;«:’.‘.‘:’ Kl‘u~; but Hope Neéwcome wanted r’;nong,- and S0 .;;,mou; reveeling the actual, hateful :_1: rh::s}; ’s‘ln;e' ;_: ::; y‘,'u“", afl,\: id is the champion Of 1 o.qrion—position not for what it could i : e e esdie e )“"“"‘fd Cla¥, give him of enjoyment, but for the heip The young mad iaid his banjo on the h'«";( 1K ou were here,” ho had cord in the Prize §i wouid afford In the mission for shich table beside his hat and began removing __ Yo% I kuew Y.r ReTS, | Be ha gy & he had lived until the moment when an his mask. As he 4 S0 with s sudden i STPIY. A0 L8 e e e ors ‘-'“'u o . -““\'\9”" | incentive even stronger come suddenly You to do would be to go straight to town, fully demanded. “There's many & girl tect me. Think how you would feel it impulse Winifred's hands went up to the :'Edutom-;T?S‘:-(:::xpfnenx:maé ::““_{; s s “ €ll, the 510 his life. Money he must have for the take up your quarters In my house and just as good without s with 'em. My your daughter—your good daughter—were knot which tied the piece of chiffon at kEanyll‘ - Weeks agd. You w:m' Sera Sl gt :"f accomplishment of both objects. use my gymnasium. But all these points own daughter now is one of the best and in such trouble and danger. Do for me the back of her head. Sefors I s ” can be settled if you decide my way In five minutes.” R Hope Newecome had wanted | as many hours, meaning to walk by the sea in the Perhaps he had his secret as well as she. But he was trusting her, and she would show that she meant to trust him as weil. Many wise people, knowing her she plays the boy In pantomime, my dear, whenever she can get the job, and I wish the had oné now. It didn't kill me, not it. Why should it your mother?" it seemed to him, holding no cue to the motif music which sang so strange a tune in Licvnel Macaire's blood, that the eccen- tric millionaire must be hovering on the what you would have my mother do for her if our places were changed. Help me to get away—to hide myself from this man." 1 should like nothing you knock him out—at my triends and me look of £200. It would He had not referred to her question about the posters. But perhaps he had g only forgotten to speak of them. Per- wy P ace, W —for a pur say, very sporting thing for you to ac- yicpe Newcome flushed a little and did yoL hurry in answering Ilfonaire looked upon him as an animal, valued bim as & man may value a He saw that the verge of madness—a verge where it was difficult to draw a line of definition. But there was the offer, such as it was, for him, Hope Newcome, to take or leave. And after six months, why, he believed himself strong enough to face the conse- quences and pay the bill, whatever that November darkness making up his mind. But the offer of fifty pounds down and a chance to live without spending too much of it was, in the strange circumstances known only to himself, more than he could resist. “I'll try it,” he sald, without walting for There was a difference, but perhaps too subtle for Mrs. Purdy's comprehension. Winifred, quivering and panting still, did not attempt to go into it, but a few words which the woman had spoken made her turn wet, wistful \eyes up to the common old face. She caught the woman's skirt with her hands, when Mrs. Purdy half turned away. Eyes and shaking voice and falling tears all did their part in pleading. “Dear me, if You ain't suddenly the image of my own beautiful lady, the first and dearest I was ever dresser to!” ex- circumstances, would have thought her exceedingly imprudent to do this. And doubtless she was imprudent. But she did not fear the consequences. And the i veil and the mask slipping down at the ‘same instant, the man and the girl looked into each other’s faces. haps he had not seen those horrible new ones of which that girl at the theater had told her. “Did Mrs. Purdy speak of me?" asked. “No. Not to me. Since she went to the dress rehearsal she hasn't spoken of any one in particular at the theater; and, of she

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