The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 30, 1905, Page 2

u please tell us the truth about yes- d white to the roots told you sir.” Nothing to add? everything, K I must make some sug- s you. When you sat down t chair yesterday, did you do so some object which shown who had been in the nister'’s face was ghastly. sir, certainly mot.’ s a suggestion,” said - ly. “I frankly admit m unable to prove it. But it > enough, since the mo- Soamers’ back was i the man who was lips. tster. Up to the truth, spoken se you of being a callous rhaps it would be ecasier were to tell Mr. Soamen t cecurred, and you can check me re I am wrong. Shall I do so? well, don’t trouble to answer, and see that I do you no in- Just “From the moment, Mr. Soames, that d to me that no one, not even ter, could have told that the p: were in your room, the case bes to take a definite shape in my The printer one could, of course, s: He could examine the papers s own office. The Indian I also t nothing of. If the proofs were 11 h» cguld not possibly know what On the other i thinkable co! d dare to er hance on re on the t. The man who at the papers were there. know that the room at very day I dis- entered How ched your room I ex- You amused me 1 was ccntemplat- of some one hav. under the ey >pposite rooms, forced h it. Such an idea was measuring how tall a d need to be in order to gee, F what papers were ¢n the 1 table. I am six feet high and I it with an effort. No one less hat would have a chance. Al- you see I had reason to think ne of your three students was of unusuel height, he was the orth watching of the three. ntered and I took you into my dence as to the suggestions of the le. Of the center table I could g, until in your descrip- st you mentioned that he tance jumper. Then the thing came me in an instant 1ly needed certain corrobora- which I speedily obtained. pened was this. This ® Queen Cophueta Gordon.) 1 ‘Askew, re- r man the in untarily went iffed the face of the “haughty 2§ she was called behind ed more fully to- Askew and de to say that if you hap- th a rich woman or you had rea- ia—" e e she paused with 1 impression that the air of s suddenly exhausted and eathing was by no means the patural matter it had always mean to say,” blurted 1petuosity, 1 her that you the de- Then he t 1 should be care- so asinine as ich girl in the that the one to Never in the world!” we liberate reply. -“Nevef.” ided coolly f not to do & to fa For a moment her heart turned to icg. Then the blood flowed back warm and strong and she understood. He was taking this stand in the hope of throwing her off the track, because his fantastic sense of honor put him of the running and he wished to est himself even of the interest that undeclared love might arouse in She could have laughed for very at his dissembling. would you do, assuming spite of yourself, you should ove with an heiress?” she per- d her. He fenced manfully. “Well, I think I should clear out. It would be the best thing to do in a case like that.” i Vance—the haughty - Miss the heiress of the Vanceymil- ! regarded him demurely. She was a person who was accustomed to having her wishes complied with, She wondered vaguely what it was about the man before her that made her ready—even eager—to step down regal position she had al- ways occupied and sue for his favor —why in her eyes he should seem the king! And when at last she spoke her voice was almost wistful. % By Heith Gordon t what about the woman—the h woman? Perhaps—perhaps hate her riches—she might st loathe them. But what could she 10? Perhaps they came to her and she C d not get rid of them any more he shape of her nose! And spite of it all—she loved Shouldn't you consider her at Great Secott exclaimed Askew mock dismay. ‘“How did we ever - nto such a sentimental discussion —two good comrades like you and me? By the way,” he went on quickly, “have n 1 happened to mention to.you that I'm going off for a while, ‘possibly for good? It's an excellent business offer, it takes me to the other side of the I have not actually decided, doubtless accept it. Indeed, ely afford not to for several d not look at her and she was for even that small sign of turbation on his part. A quick reso- ed her. It was leap year— rught—and why should not a e in a thousand years or up and demand her own as v and directly as a man would she not, by every wile that a v use, tried to make him ac- love for her? Never— iever would he ask her to mar- because of her millions. Well, uld ask him! first tumult of her resolution felt a strange exhilaration. ought that intruded Mself ter between them—the pos- she might have mistaken g toward her—did not deter e rejected? Well, she a number of men in d there would be a certain tice in his meting out to had ‘meted out to them! ht & cigar if you have she suggested whim- “It would be a favor to me 1 would. Men are always more hable when re smoking, they Askew smiled assent and complied with her request. Then he paused with the lighted cigar between his ngers and gave her a long look, which she returned unflinchingly. effort ghe began to speak. ‘Duncan,” she sald bravely, “I have something to tell you. Perhaps With an not another woman in the world would do it nd perhaps you'll hate me for Hate ce imagi that “Well,” her voice was slightly un- certain, but her eyes looked into his without wavering, “you see, there is a poor rich girl—a girl that has loads of money and who just hates it because it is alw: cutting her off from all the things—and people she cares b5 il “Poor thing!” ingly. with m “That's just what she wants to d Jeaped from her lips. “She wants to give it all to you! You see—I—I'm speaking for her. She isn’t in the habit of saying things—Ilike this—to men and she doesn’t know exactly how to do it!” “But she wants you to know that she thinks you the one man in the world—that her faith.in you is so great that she even dares to tell you that—she—loves—you—Donald be- cause she knows that if she has made a mistake and you do not care for her you will be as truthful with her 2s she has been with you.” Donald Askew sat as if stupefied, while the struggle between pride and love went on within him; To be pointed out as the man who married the rich Mise Van to have it said of him that he had fefithered hig nest well—these and kfndred possibilities rose up in his mind and galled his spirit beyond en- durance. ‘Then his vision cleared and he saw nothing—was conscious of nothing in the world but a proud, sensitive face covered with womanly shame. Before that vision his pride went down, and leaning forward he burfed his face in her lap. A moment later her lMps touched his hair. “I'm a brute—a perfect brute!” he groaned, “to have made you do it!” “You're the brute.I love, though,” was the whispered answer. you he interrupted whose derisive incredulity was to her ears. “Hate you! I can e 2 good many things, but not in a sighed Askew mock- “What a pity she can’t divide 3 SASRANAS (Copyright, 1904, by Ethel Barrington.) EEP in the heart of each man and woman lies some unfulfilled ambition toward which his ef- forts tend as a goal. With Myra Darling it was a gold watch. Her days were passed behind a counter where a variety of neckwear was displayed. The remuneration was small and served only to provide her with a “home” and the simplest of. gowns. The watch for which her soul hungered might. have been the moon or the roc’s egg. But more try- ing than the privations she endured was the cheapness, the narrowness of her life, so different from the gentle surroundings of her girlhood. It was her birthday, her eighteenth year, and Sunday—a/ day free from the aisle-walker's espionage, a happy combination which Myra enjoyed to the full. A long afternoon in the crisp, cool air of the park was a hap- py climax. It was turning dusk as she left the park. The city lamps already shone in a long line down the avenue, On the side streets the shadows fell black and ugly, causing a few bulldings to stand out in bold relief. Suddenly a flash from a passing automobile struck a small, -round object that glittered near the curbing. Mpyra bent over to pick it yp. Had some beneficent fairy godmother thrown the gift at ‘her feet? It was a watch, and on her birthday. She seized it rapturously and looking neither to the right nor Jeft fled up the steps of her boarding- house, never pausing until she stood in' the hall room she called her home. “You little beauty,” whispered the girl, as she caressed it with her fin- gers. Then, with woman’'s curiosity, she tried to open- the back. It was difficult, but at last Myra gasped with surprise. The face of & young man, with honest eyes and kindly mouth, looked into her own. ’ She passed her evening rocking slowly in her chalr, with a magazine between her fingers, the gentle tick- tick of the watch counting the passing hours. That night she dreamied not of the watch, but of a life which the watch typified, and through-the dream stalked a man whose face was the face in the watch. She awoke a liftle after, 6 to revel in the delight of knowing the exact hour, and turning luxuriously over for another fifteen minutes, > All day she thought about her wone derful acquisition and smiled hapoily to herself. The other girls noticed it SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY 8 # and twitted her in their good-natured it rather coarse way. Myra laughed, but guarded her secret, and hurried home to pass another evening of de- lightful pgssession. Three days passed, and though the watch itself was a never-failing source of delight, as the actual reallzation of her dreams it was the picture that crept into her heart. She told her secrets to those honest eyes and called him ‘“dear friend.” He seemed somehow to un- derstand her every whim. “The whole world could trust you. and—I'd trust you absolutely,” she told him one night very softly. ‘“The other girl trusts you, too? The other girl! How sorry she must be to lose your picture.” Then suddenly, without any warn- ing, Myra awoke to the truth. The watch, the picture were not hers. She had no right to keep them. She turned to the window and looked drearily out over the roofs of houges. That noon she spent half an hour running over newspaper flles in the library. She found the description in the “Lost and Found” column and made note of the address with eves grown misty. . . . . “Can I see the lady—the one who lost the watch?’ she asked, and was at once shown into a room With luxurious appointments. There was a log fire in the grate, with comfortable .lounging chairs and books .in every available space.. It carried Myra back to those other days now dim in her memory. “You have found my watch? How glad I am!™ The speaker came close to Myra, with outstretched hands and eager smile. She was as beautiful as any of the women whom MyTa served during business hours.. . ) The girl laid the watch in the other's hand. Surely with all Miss Shepherd d she could have. spared tgy. ut it was hers and she must have 1 “It was my mother's,” sald Miss Shepherd softly. “That is why I can- not thank you enough. And you will accept this Ilittle acknowledgment?” she 8ald, trying to press a roll of bills of into Myra's clenched hand. “No,” Eald Myra, “it's yours—I want nothing. X s “But T promised a liberal reward.” “And I had it—all the week—the itch ‘was such company.” . She nin:ao:o mention the plcture. CALL. e R | A LIBERAL REWARD The picture heid her firm. She could not take money for that. In the end she allowed herself to be persuaded to remain until the rain ceased and to drink a cup of tea. “Here’'s Tom, you must meet him!” exclaimed her hostess proudly, as the door swung open and there entered the original of the photograph. One look from Myra and then her lashes drooped in embarrassment. The others discussed the watch and its re- covery. At first Myra could scarcely follow what they said, but they were so kind, so full of interest about her and her little experiences, that she soon found herself chatting freely, and laughing at Tom’s funny sayings, still she rose in trepidation to find how late it had become. Tom (she had not discovered his other name) insisted that as his auto- mobile was at the door he would take her home. “‘Oh, no,” gasped Myra in distress, turning to her hostess. “I'd rather take a car.” “Don’t you like motors?” questioned Miss Shepherd kindly. “I've—I've never tried one,” admit- ted Mvra. “Then that settles it,” exclaimed Tom, and Myra found herself hurried to the door, with Miss Shepherd ex- acting a promise that she would come again. *Yes, do!” urged Tom as they went down the steps. ‘“‘She really means it. Isn’t she jolly? “She’s very kind! How happy ehe ust be—so pretty and such a beautiful home, and—and you—" Myra had not meant to say that at all; it just slipped out. “You bet; she's the best sister. that ever. a fellow had.” .. “Your gister?” stammered Myra: and somehow in.her sufprise she nearly yra. She trembled a little, but she did not say just what she.thought. In fact. she did not tell him until the following Christmas. Tom had presented Myra with what had once been the desire A rant ke Snything 8o handsome,” can ng so han A she had said, shaking her head earn- estly. > C ‘'om only' ldughed. The case flew ‘back, and there was the one face in «all the world for Myra. ~ ° 3 “Sweetheart, I claim 'a liberal re- young fellow had employed his after- noon at the athletic grounds, where he had been practicing the jumip. He returned, carrying his jumping shoes, which are provided, as you are aware, with several sharp spikes. As he passed your window he saw, by means of his great height, these proofs upon youir table and conjectured what they were. No harm would have been done had it not been that, as he passed your daor, he perceived the key which had ,been left by -the’ careless- ness of your servant. A sudden impulse came over him to enter and see if they were indeed proofs. It was not a dan- gerous exploit,” for he could always pretend that he had simply looked in to ask 2 question. “Well, when he saw thst they were Indeed. the proofs, it was then that he ylelded to temptation. He put his shoes -on the table. What was it YO put on that chair near the window? “Gloves,” said the young man. Holnfes looked triumphantly at Ban- nister. He put his gloves on the chair and he took the proofs,~Sheet by sheet, to copy -them. He thought the tutor must return by the main gate, and .that he would see him. As we know, he came back by the side gate. Suddenly he; heard him_at the very door. There was no_possible escape. He forgot his gloves, but he caught up his shoes and darted into the bedroom. You observe that the -scratch on that table is slight at one side, but deepens in" the direction of the bedroom door. That In itself isenough to show us that the shoe had been drawn in that direction and that the ,culprit had taken refuge there. The earth round the spike had been left on the table and a second sample was loosened and fell in the bedroom. I may add that I walked out to the athletic grounds this morning, saw that tenacious black clay is used in the jumping pit and carried away a specimen of it, together with * nation. some of the fine tan or sawdust which |s strewn' over it to-prevent the ath- jete from slipping. Have I told the truth, Mr. Gilchrist?™ The student had drawn himseif erect. “Yes, sir:- it is-true,” said he. “Good heavens! have you nothing to add?” cried Soames. “Yes, sir, I have, but.the shock of this disgraceful exposure has. bewil- dered me. I have a letter here, Mr. Soames, which I wrote to you early this morning in the middle of a restless night. It was before I knew that my sin-had found me out. Here it is, si * You will see that I have said, T have deterrhiried not to go in for the exam I haye been offered & commis sion in the Rhodesian police, and I an gojng out to South Africa at once.” “] am indeed pleased to hear that you did not intend to profit by your un fair advantage,” said Soames. “Bu why, did you change your purpose?’ Giichrist pointed to Bannister. “There is the man who Set me In the ath,” said he. flfi?::m‘\)e now, Rannister,” said Holmes “J¢ will be cléar to you, from what have said, that only you could have let this young man out, since you wers Jeft in the room, and must have lock the door when you went out. Asto b escaping by that window, it was credible. Can you not clear up the 1 point in this mystery and tell us the reasons for your action?” “it was simple® enough, sir, it had only known, but, with all cleverness, it was impossible that y céould know. Time was, sir, wh was butler to old Sir Jabez Gilch this young gentleman’s father. Wh, he was.ruined I came to the college a a servant, but I mever forgot my old employer because he was down in the world. I watched his son all I cou for.the sake of the old days. Well, when I came inte this room ye: when the alarm was given, the very first thing I saw was Mr. Gilchrist’s tan gioves a-lying,in that chair. I knew those gloves well and I under- stood their message. If Mr. Soames saw them, the game was up. I flopped down into: that chair, and ing would budge me until Mr. Soames he went for you. Then out came my poor young mastér, whom I had dandled on my knee, and confessed it all to me. Wasn't it natural, sir, that L should save him, and wasn't it natural also that I should try to speak to him as his dead father would have done, and make him understand that he could not profit by such-a deed? Could you blame me, sir?” “No, indeed,” said Holmes, heartily, springing. to his. feet. “Well, Soames, I think we have cleared your little problem up, and our breakfast awalts us at home. Come, Watson! As to you, sir, I trust that a bright future awaits you in Rhodesia. For once you have fallen low. Let us see, in the fu- ture, how.high you can rise.” (The End) Jane’s Humbling By Belle (Copyright, 1905, by Belle Maniates.) %3 OME, pa!” commanded Jane Tivy in bright, sharp tones. Titus Tivy, a meek, un- dersized man, responded to the summons and stood unresistingly before his daughter while in accordance with her bi-weekly cus- tom she prepared him for his trip to town. First she deftly folded a muf- fler about his neck, buttoned his great coat snugly over jt and then put on his cap, tying the earlaps in place. She next handed him the memorandum for groceries and a letter to mall with in- structions to carry it in his hand all the way “lest he forget.” . ‘When he had taken his seat in the wagon amid the molasses jug, Kero- sene can and butter crocks, she put'a soapstone at his feet and tucked about him a heavy blanket shawl in lieu of a laprobe, albeit the day was bright and sparkling. When he had driven away she went serenely into the house to put the finishing touches to the toilet of her sister Rose, a girl of fourteen years. Rose did riot submit to her costuming as meekly as her father had done. She pouted at the hanging braids of halr, bucked .against the white apron and begged for a dip to her blouse. Jane authoritatively silenced and overruled these objections and Rose went sul- lenly to school. For five years, since the death of her mother, Jane had held a tight rein over the household, and its members were strictly under Jane-rule. She was a woman of convictions; one of them was that her duty clearly lay in man- aging the affairs of others. People were afrald of Jane. They submitted to' her domineering or avoided it There lived a man on an adjoining farm, however, who,was not afraid of Jane. For some time he had resolved to introduce her to her true self, and he had chosen this morning to do it. “Drop your work, Jane, and sit down. I want to talk to you.” “Well, Joel, I guess you'll have to choose some other time for visiting. I'm no lady of leisure. This is my time to work." “Jane,"” said Joel with a new, quiet ring in his volce, “you are going to listen to me now. I have waited your convenience just as long as I am going to.” Jane's nostrils dilated dangerously, but her heart beat faster than it ever had before, although she had “kept company” with Joel for six years. “I have walted six years for you to name the day, Jane. If you don't do it, I shall. After your mother’s death it was reasonable to expect to walit a year or maybe two, but I'll wait no longer.” Jane was returning to her normal condition. “We must wait a year,” she decreed. ‘fThe mortgage will be paid then. Rose will be through school.” “You'll marry me a month from to- day or not-at all,” he said composedly. Jane jumped to her feet. “Indeed! Well, I am not going to be forced or threatened by you, Joel Dixon! I'll not marry you until I see fit.” “Jane,” he replied coolly, “you are acting under the mistake of thinking you are necessary to your father and Rose. They’'d get along a great deal better without you—or -more to their liking anyway.” Having thas spoken, Joel departed and Jane returned to the abstracted washing of dillel\,wi!h new food for thought. When her father was unfolding the “Wingville Weéekly” that afternoonm, she astonished him by saying: “Pa, haven't I the house well and kept up things since ma P Titus Tivy peered at her over his \epectacles and paper. He did not an- swer with the alacrity she had ex- pected. “Well, Jane!” he finally said, “I guess you're the best cook and house- keeper in these parts. There ain't a Maniates Jane was not satisfled. “That is not what I mean. Haven't things been as you liked? I've always done . what I thought was for the best.” “Why, Jane,” he hesitated, “your way may be the best, but folks don’t always want the best way. They want their own way.” Jane said no more then, but. when Rose to her: “Rose, don't you wear the best clothes of any girl in school?™” “Maybe I.do,” replied Rose, a little erossly, - ‘but ~what's the pleasure . in good clothes if you can't wear them as you want to?* Again Jane was silenced. “They say,” continued Rose pertly, “that Joel Dixon’s sweet on the new teacher.” A great fear smote Jane.. Then sha rallied. If Joel Dixon wanted a little, meek, clinging-vine woman for a wife, he cculd take Lucy Wicks and wel- come. But Rose's speech rankled and lingered in her memory through the week, and she anxiously awaited what Saturday might bring forth. It brought Joel just as she was start- ing her father for town. As Titus gath- ered up the reins Jane intercepted the exchange of winks Between her father and her lover. This troubled her, and she was in a puzzled rather than an antagonistic mood when left alone with Joel. “Come with me,” he sald, taking her by the arm and marching her out of the house. Surprised, she suffered her- self to be led or rushed through the orchard and down the hill to where the road wound {ts way. “Now, stand behind this tres and watch out,” he sald. Wondering if he had gone crazy, she @id as he directed. She saw her father drive jogging Fleetfoot up to a zigsag corner of the rail fence, get out, take the soapstone, wrap it in the shaw! and pitch it behind a stump. Then he un- buttoned his coat, threw his muffler un- der the, cushion, took off his' cap, doubled back the earlaps inside the crown, put the letter and memorandum in his pocket, get back in the bugsy and drive away. Jane lopked at Joel, a light of new intelligence creeping into her eyes. “Has he—" “He has. For five years. He knows what he wants and has had his own way right along, only he thought it was easier to let you think you were baving yours.” She turned back toward the house, Joel accompanying her. “And has everyone about here known she asked faintly. “Yes; they have thought it a good joke on you and they liked your father too well to give him away.” She looked so utterly miserable that ke almost but not quite relented. “No, don’t go in the house yet, sald. . “There goes Rose down the rc ‘When she’s out of sight I want you t© follow.” ; “I don’t need to,” replied Jane quiet- 1y. “I suppose she stops and remakes her toflet, too.” “Yes, she hides her apron under a stone,’ perks up her front hair and jerks up the braid to meet it and pulls down her shirtwaist.”™ She sat down on the steps. “Then all these years,” she said Dbit- terly, “T've been a faflure and a joke.™ “No, Jane. You have simply madae the mistake a great many competent women make—of wanting to boss.” She was silent. Joel thought he saw an effort to hide a tear and felt em- couraged. He sat down beside her and put his arm about her. “A month from last Wednesday, Jane." She turned her head away. “Oh, yowd better take Lucy Wicks. She’d never try.to boss you. You need a woman with no will of her own.” _*“No, Jane,” he said gently: turning Ber face toward him, “I need you.* ¢ame in from schoel she sald 1t