The evening world. Newspaper, June 19, 1914, Page 19

THE STORY OF THE BEST MAN nn nna oie dnch FIAMMA ANSEL STRANI ORL NS IR OE eR RRR The Evening World Daily Magazine, Friday, June 19, 1914 OLIN IODINE A SECRET SERVICE AGENT WHOM FATE THROWS INTO A NEW YORK “JUNE WEDDING” COMPLICATION wort | y Grace L. H. Lutz}. by J, B, Lippincott Co,) ING CHAPTERS, Secret Serrice fojurvant cipher paper ‘hau tad pede ota Lg 9 Os or mt lend foe ; eased us Ph to Hanae eicapes, hie fumpa into & har ‘vest * hutch, Heveral, nen wait eventing dress seize Gordon hfe Prom “teit™ tale oth Ae ocuatiel with wRCtALOr ue_chureh, ts eros i . tt ta a dase, ig marmied to Cells & beautiful git! who geet « seo that he ‘i ther age etegtlon. Soran ie, aboard «Ch of Hotman's Usp bard sa \ a les Celia to top and to go with ee tie hopes to catch @ tr ‘The thickest ‘aan follows. to she cetests length, after, man; at Gordon's | Washi rate forts to CHAPTER XIV. (Continued) HE was not familiar with fire- arms. Her mother had been afraid of them and her brother had nevor flourished S any around the house, yet she knew by instinct that some weajon of det was in Gordon's possession; and a nameless horror rose in her heart and shone from her blue eyes, but she would not speak @ word to Jet him know it. If he had not been in such baste, he would have seen. Her horror would have been still greater if she had known that he al- ready carried one loaded revolver and was taking a second in case of an ‘emergency. “Don't worry,” he called as he hur- ried out the door, “Henry will get anything you need, and I shall svon be back.” The door closed and he was gone. She heard his quick step down the hall, heard the elevator door slide and slam again, and then she knew he bad gone down, Outside an automobile sounded and she seemed vw hear wgain his words at the phone, “fue rear door.” Why had he gone Ww the rear door?) Was he in hiding Was ne lying from someone? What, on, What Ga it mean? Witieut stopping to reason it out, tue duor of the bedroom he had just jeft, then through it passed swifuy to @ bath-room beyond. Yes, there was a window. Would it be the one? Could she see bin? And what good would it do her if she could? She crowded close to the window. was @ heavy sash with stained Dut she selected a clear bit Yes, closed automobile just beiow her, and it had started away from the building. He had gone, then, Where’ Her mind was a blank for a few minutes, She went slowly, mechan- jeally back to the other room with- out noticing anything about her, sat down in the chair, putting her hands to her temples, and tried to think. Back to the moment in the chu where he had appeared at her side and the gervice had begun, Something had told her then that he was differ ent, and yet there had been tho: letters, and how could it possibly be sthat he had not written them? He ‘yas gone on some dangerous busi- ff that she felt sure. There had some caution given him by the to whom he first phoned, He id promised to take precaution—that little, wicked, gleaming hing in his pocket. erhaps some ‘harm would come to him, and she would never know. And then she stared at the opposite wall with won- der-iilled eyes. Well, and suppose it did? Why did she care?) Was he not the man whoxe power over her but two short days ago would have made her welcome death as her de- liverer? ‘The footsteps of the man Henry brought her back to the present again She smiled at him pleasantly as b entered, and answered his questions about what she would have for break- fast; but it was he who selected the menu, not she, and after he had gone she could not have told what she had ordered, She could not get away from the vision on the couch. She closed her eyes and pressed her cold fingers against her eyeballs to drive it away, but ll her bridegroom seemed to Ne there before her. ‘The colored man came back pres- ently with a loaded tray, and set tt down on little table which he wheeled before ber, as though he had done it many. times before. She thankd him, and said there was noth- ing else she needed, so he went awa: She toyed with the cup of delicious coffee which he had poured for he nd the few swallows she took gave er new heart, She broke a bit from ‘a aot roll, and ate a little of the de- ‘Nelous steak, but still b mind w at work at the protilem, and her he Wags full of nameless anxiety. He had gone away without any breakfast himself, a nd he had had no supper the night before, she was sure He probably had given to her every thing he could get on the train, She was haunted with regret because she fad not shared with him, She got up end walked about the room, trying to shake off the horror that was upon ‘and the dread of what the morn- ing might bring forth, Ordinarily she would have thought of sending @ message to her mother and brother, but her mind was so troubled now never occurred to her, alls of the room ware tinted ft greenish gray, and above the pleture moulding they blended into a@ woodsy land with a hint of Water, greensward and blue sky through interlacing branches. It re i UP and studied the faci minded her of the little village they had seon as they started from the train in the early morning light. What a beautiful day they had spent together and how it had changed her whole attitude of heart toward the man sho had married! Two or thr fine pictures were hung In good light She studied them, and knew that the one who had selected and hung them was a judge of true art; but they did not hold her attention long, for as yet she had not connected the room with he for whom she waited. A handsome mahogany devk stood open ina broad space by the window. She was attracted by a little painted miniature of a woman. She took it It was fine and sweet, with brown hair dressed low, and eyes that reminded her of the man who had just gone from her. Was this, then, the home of some relative with whom he had come to stop for a day or two, and, if eo, it where was the relative? The dress in the miniature was of & quarter of a century past, yet the » face was young and sweet, as young, perhaps, as herself, She wondered who it was. She put the miniature back in place with caressing hand. She felt that she would like to know this woman with the tender eyes, She wished her here now, that she might tell her all her anxiety, Her eye wandered to the pile of letters, some of them official-looking ones, one or two in square, perfumed envelopes, with high, angular writ- ing. They were all addressed to Mr. y Gordon. That was strange! Who was Mr. Cyril Gordon? What had they—what had she—to do with ‘Was he a friend whom George —whom they—were visiting for a few It was all bewildering. Then the telephone rang, Her heart beat wildly and she looked toward it as if it had been a human voice speaking and she had no power to answer. What should she do now? Should she answer? Or should she wait for the man to come? Could the man hear the telephone bell or was she perhaps expected to answer? And yet jf Mr. Cyril Gor- don—well, somebody ought to an- swer, The phone rang inst on more, and still a third What if he should be Perhaps he was in distres: This thought sent her flying to the ‘phone. She(took down the receiver and called: "Hello!" and her voice sounded far away to herself. growing more con: most wishing she had not presumed to tanger's ‘phone, T just "phoned to the offi told me he had returned, suid a voice that had an imperio note in it, “Are you sure he isn’t there “Quite sure,” she replied. “Who Is this, please?” beg your pardon,” said Cella, trying to make time and knowing not w to reply, She was not any longer y. Who was she? Mra, She shrank from the name. jorror for her, "Who snapped the other s this the chamber- Because if it is I'd lke you to look around and inquire and be quite sure that Mr. Gordon isn’t there. I wish to speak with him about some- thing very important. . Celta smiled. “No, this Is not the chambermaid,” she sald sweetly, “and I am quite sure Mr. Gordon {s not here.” “How long before he will be there?” “I don't know really, for I have but just come myself. “Who 1s this to whom I am talk- ing?” Why—just a friend,” she answered, wondering if that were the best thing there was a long and contem- plative pause at tho other end. “Well, could you give Mr. Gordon a message when he comes in? “Why, certainly; I think 80, Who is this? “Miss Bentley. Julia Bentley, He'll know the imperious one eagerly now, “And tell him, please, that he ts expected here to dinner to- night. We need him to complete the number, and he simply musn’t fail me. Tl excuse him for going off in much a rush if he comes early and tells me all about it. Now you won't forget, will you? You got the name, Rentley, did you? B-E-N-'T-L-E-Y, you know, And you'll tell he comes in?" him the Thank you! What did you say your name was?” But Celia had hung up, Somehow the message annoyed her, she coyld not tell why. She wished she had nvt answered the ‘phone. Whoever Mr. Cyril Gordon was what should she do if he should suddenly appear? And as for this imperious lady and her message she hoped she would never have to deliver It, On second hought why not write it and leave it n his desk with the pile of letters? She would do It, It would serve to ass away a few of these dreadful minutes that lagged so distressfully. She sat down and wrote “Mins Rentley wishes Mr. to dine with her this evening. will pardon his running away other day if he will come early She laid it beside the high, angular writing on the square, perfumed let- ters and went back to the leather chair too restless to rest yet too weary to stand up. She went presently windows to look out, and then to the side ones. Across the housetops she could catch a glimpse of domes and buildings, There was the Congres- sional Library, which usually delight- ed her with Its exquisite tones of gold and brown and white, Hut she had no eyes for it now, Beyond were more buildings, all set in the lovely foliage which was much further developed than it had been in New York State, From another window she could get a glimpse of the Poto- mac shining in the morning sun. She wandered to the front windows Gordon She the to the back MRS GRACE Wa RUTe canece a3 NOP PLLA, and looked out. There were people passing and repassing. It was a busy street, but she could not make out whether it was one she knew or not. There were two men walking buctt and forth on the opposite side. They did not further than the cor- ner of the atr either way. They looked across at the windows sometimes and pointed up when they met, and once one of them took something out of his pocket and flashed it under his coat at his side, 8 if to havo it ready for use. It re- minded her of the thing her husband had held in his hand in the bedroom and she shuddered. She watched them, fascinated, not able to draw herself away from the window. Now and then she would go to the rear window to if there was any sign of the automobile returning, and then hurry back to the front to see if the men were still there, Once she returned to the chair, and, lying back, shut her eyes, and let the mem- ory of yesterday sweep over her in all its sweet details up to the time when they had got into the way train loyalty to her father. But now her heart was all on the other aide, and she began to feel that there had been sofne dreadful mis- all right, He could not, could not have written those terrible letters. Then again the detalls of their wild carriage ride in Pittsburgh and mirac- was something strange and unex- plained about that which she must understand. CHAPTER XV. speeding away to another part of the city by the fastest time an experienced chauffeur dared to make. corner into the avenue two burly po- licemen sauntered casually into the pretty square in front of the house where lived the chief of the Secret There was nothing about their de- meanor to show that they had been detailed there by special urgency, and three men who hurried to the little house could not possibly know that their leisurely and careless stroll was the result of a hurried telephone mes- wage from the chief to police head- sage from Gordon, The policemen strolled by the house, greeted each other, and walked on around the square across men sitting idly on a bench, and passed leisurely on. They disappeard around a corner, and to the three men were out of the y. The latter the officers took up thelr watch, and when an automobile appeared, and the three stealthily got up from their rk bench and distributed them- walk, they Knew not that their every movement was observed with keen attention, But they did wonder how it happened that those two policemen suddenly, just as the auto came to & halt in front of the chief's house. Gordon sprang out and up the steps with a bound, the door opening he- two grim and apparently indifferent Policemen stood outside like two stone images on guard, while up the street with rhythmic sound rode two before the house as if for a purpose, The three men in the bushes hid their Instruments of death, and would have slunk away had there been a flight, they were met by three more policemen. There was the crack of 4 revoly one of the three desper- adoes tried a last reckless dash fir and she had seemed to feel her dis- take somewhere, and he was surely ulous escape haunted her. There EANTIME, Gordon was About the time they turned the firat Service. park just across the street from the quarters immediately after his mes- the little park. They eyed the three did not know the hidden places where v selves among the shrubbery near the seemed to spring out of the ground fore him as if he were expected. The mounted police, also coming to a halt chance; but, turning to make a hasty freedom—and failed. The wretch went to justice with his right arm hanging limp by his side. Inside the house Gordon was deliv~ ering up his messag id as he laid it before his chief, and stood silent while the elder man read and pondered its tremendous import, it occurred to him for the first time that his chief would require some report of his journey, and the hindrance that had made him a whole day late in getting back to Washington. His heart stood atil! with sudden panic. What was he to do? How could he tell it all? What right had he to tell of his marriage to an un- known womun?—a marriage that per- hups was not ‘a marriage. He could not know what the outcome would be until he had told the girl everything. As far as he himself was concerned he knew that the great joy of his life had come to him in her. Yet he could not hope that it would be so with her. And he must think of her and protect her good name in every way. If there should be such @ thing ever as that she should consent to remain with him and be his wife he must never let a soul know but what the marriage had heen planned long ago. It would not be fair to her, It would make life intolerable for them both, either together or apart. And while he might be and doubtless w perfectly safe in confiding in his chief, and asking him to keep silence about the matter, still he felt that even that would be a breach of faith with Cella, He must closo his lips upon the story until he could talk with her and know her wishes. Ho drew a sigh of weariness. It was a Jong, hard way he had come and it was not over. The worst ordeal would be his confession to the brida who was not his wife. ‘The chief looked up. . “Could you make this out, Gordon?” he asked, noting keenly the young man's weary eyes, the strained, tense look about his mouth. “Oh, yes, air; 1 saw it at once. I was almost afraid my eyes might hy tray the secret before I got away with it.” “Then you know what you saved the country, and what have been worth to the Service.” ‘The young man flushed with pleas- re. have you “Thank you, str,” he said, looking down. “I understood it was import- ant, and T am glad T was able to 5 plish the errand without fall- lave you reason to suppose you were followed, except for what you saw at the station in this city “Yes, sir; 1am sure there were de- tectives after me as I was leaving New York, They were suspicious of me. I saw one of the men who had been at the dinner with me watching me. The disguise—and—some cir- cumstances—threw him o! He wasn't sure, Then, there was a man —you know him, Balder—at Pitts- burgh?—~" “Pittsburgh!” Without mention of Cella, Gordon briefly sketched his trip from the time he had left New York, to the present moment, He accounted for his roundabout trip by saying he had made it in order to throw Holman's men off the scent ‘The kind old chief put out his hand SEPARA PUNE SA PUENTE NAA ele Navel Fach Weeki The Een Stasped Gordon's in a hearty shake, but all he said was: “And you are all worn out—I'll guarantee you didn’t sleep much last nigh' “Well, no," said Gordon, “I had to sit up in a day-coach and share the seat with another man. Besides, [ was somewhat excited. “Of course, of course!" puffed the old chief, coughing vigorously, and showing by his gruff attitude that he deeply affected. “Well, young man, this won't be forgoten by th Department. Now you go home and take a good sieep, Take the whol day off if you wish, and then com: down to-morrow morning and tell me all about it. Isn't there anything more I need to know at once that justice may be done? 1 believe not,” said Gordon, with a sigh of relief. “There's a list of the men who were at the dinner with me. I wrote them down from mem- ory last night when I couldn't sleep. I also wrote a few scraps of conver- tion, which will show you Just how deep the plot had gone. If I had not read the message and known its im- port, I should not have understood Yes. If there had been more time before you atarted I might have told you all about it. il, it seemed desirable that you uid appear as much at your ease as possible, 1 thought this would be best accomplished by your knowing nothing of the import of the writing en you first t the people.” suppose it was as well that I did not know any more than I did. You oe a great chief, sir! I was deeply impressed: anew with the fact as I ee e*how. wonderfully you planned for every possible emergen- eit was simply great, sir “Pooh! Pooh! Get home bed,” sald the old chief brusquely. Hee touched a bell and a man ap- eared. Pemjeasup, 18 he quite the coast clear?” declared the darks da couple o’ shots in de tuk de villains Yessah, have jest pahk, an’ off to der p is out dar waitin’ to fan Gordon, and till ten In the morning. Then como straight to my private room. Gordon thanked him, and left the room preceded the y-hatred servant, He was surprised to find the policeman outside, and wondered still more that they seemed to be going one if front and the other behind him ax he rode along. He was greatly re- lieved that he had not been called upon to give the whole story. His heart was filled with anxlety now to get back to the girl, and tell her everything, and yet ‘he dreaded | more than anything he had ever had to face in all his life. He sat back on the cushions, and, covering his face with his hands, tried to think how he should begin, but he could see nothing but her sweet eyes filled with tears, think of nothing but the way she had looked and smiled during the beautiful morn- ing they had spent together In the little town of Milton. Heautiful little Milton. Should he ever see it again? Ce t her window grew more and more nervous as an ho and then another half hour slipped slowly away and still he did not come, Then two mounted policemen rode rapidly down the street following an automobil which sat the man for whom she waited, She had no eyes now for the men vho had been lurking across the way, and when she thought to look for them again she saw them running in the opposite direction as fast ax they could go, making wild gestures for a ar to stop for them. She stood by the window and saw t of the car,.and into the building below, saw the car wheel and curve away and the mounted police take up their stand on either corner; heard the clang of the elevator as it started up, and the clash of its door as It stopped at that floor; heard steps coming on toward the door, and the key in the latch. Then she turned and looked at him, her two hands clasped before , and her two eyes yearning, glad fearful all at once, ‘Oh, T have been about you! come!" she in a sob as toward him, He threw his hat upon the floor, wherever it might land, and went to meet her, a great light glowing In his tired eyes, his arms outstretched to he “And did you care?" he asked In a voice of almost awe. “Denar, did you care what became of me?" He had come quite close to her now h yes, I ca ! I could not it." There was a real sob in her voice now, though her eyes were shining. His arms went around her hun- grily, as if he would draw her to him in spite of everything; yet he kept them #0 encircling, without touching her, like a benediction that would en- w the very soul of his beloved. Looking down Into her face he breathed softly: “Oh, my dear, It seems as if T must 0 frightened Tam #0 glad you have {4, and caught her votea she took one little step Are You Going Away for the Summer? When you go out of town for the summer you may find it Is difficult and costly to provide yourself with the mght sort of reading matter. Why send to the city for novels at $1.25 or $1.50 each or buy them at a fancy price in some country store? You can supply yourself with the best, most delightful summer reading for six cents a week. By subscribing to The Evening World for the summer months you will secure a complete novel each week. Not some old book a country dealer has not been able to sell, but the finest up-to-date fiction by the foremost living authors, Bear this in mind, not only for yourself but for any of your friends who expect to spend the summer in the country. “ & SEQUEL (THOUGH AN ENTIRE STORY BY ITSELF) TO “CAPT. VELVET’S NEX1 WEEK’S COMPLETE NOVEL «| <= IN THE EVENING WORLD => z\z CAPTAIN VELVET’S REVOLT By EDGAR FRANKLIN, Author o PTAIN VELVETS hold you close and kiss you!" She looked up with bated breath, and thought she understood. With a lovely gesture of surrende: she whispered, “I can trust you. Her hi were drooping now over her eyes. “Not until you know all," he s and put her gently from him into the great arm chair, with a look of erence and seif-abnegation she felt he never would forget. ‘Then tell me quickly,” she sald, a swift fear making her weak from head to foot. She laid her hand acroxs her heart, as if to help steady its breathing. He wheeled forward the leather couch opposite her chair and sat down, his head dropping, his eyes down, He dreaded to begin, She waited for the revelation, her eyes upon his bowed head, Vinally he lifted his eyes and saw her look, and a tender light came into his face, “It Is @ strange story,” he sald, “I don't know what you will think of me after it is told, but I want you to know that, blundering, stupid, even criminal though you may think me, 1 would sooner die this minute than yes lit up with @ wonderful light, and the ready tears sprang into them, tears that sparkled through the sunshine of @ great joy that illumined her whole face. “Please go on,” she sald softly, and added very gently, “I believe you.” But even with those words in his ears the beginning was not easy. Gor- don drew a deep breath and launched forth, “Iam not the man you think,” he said, and looked at her to see how she would take it, “My name ta not jeorge Hayne. My name is Cyril Gordon.” As one might a beloved victim not strike the mark, so he sent his truth home to her understanding, and waited in breathless atlence, hoping against hope that this might not turn her against him, ‘On!" she breathed softly, an if some puzzle were solving itself, “Oh!” this time not altogether in surprise nor as if the fact were displeasing. tly for further revelation, plunged into his atory headlong I'm a member of the Secret Serv- eadquartera here in Washing- ton, and day before yesterday | was sent to New York on an {mportant errand. A message of great import written in a private code had been stolen from one of our men, I was sent to get it before they could de- cipher It. The message involved mat- tera of such tremendous significance that T was ordered to go under an assumed name, id on no account to let any one know of my miasion. My orders were to get the message and let nothing hinder me in bringing it to Washington. T went understanding that 1 might even be called upon to risk my_ life. He looked up. The girl sat wide- eyed, with hands clasped together at her throat. He hurried on, not to cause her any needleas anxiety, and sketched In the details of the Wiison dinner, the chance that brought him to the church, and the way the ushers had seized on him, “They introduced me to your broth- er—Jefferson, he concluded, thought he waa the bridegroom, and I thought so until they lald your hand in mine "Oh!" she moaned, and the little hand went to help its mate cover her face. “T kneweit!" he sald bitterly, “TI knew you would feel just that way am soon as you knew. T don't blame you,’ I deserve it! T was a fool, a villain, a dumb brute—whatever you have a mind to call me! You can't begin to understand how T have suf- fered for you since this happened, and how T have blamed myself. He got up suddenly and atrode over to the window, frowntng down Into the sunlit street and wondering how it wan that everyhody seamed to be going on In exactly the same hurry as ever, when for him life bad sud- denly come to a standatill. CHAPTER XVI. HE room was very still, The Rirl did not even sob. He turned after a moment and went back to that bowed golden head there in tho deep erimson chalr. “Look here,” he sald, “f know you can't ever forgive me. I don't ex- pect it! I don't deserve It! I'll ex- plain it all to every one, T'll take every bit of blame on myself, and get plenty of witnesses to prove all about It—" ‘The girl looked up with sorrow and surprise in her wet eyes. “Why, I do not blame you," she sald, mournfully, “I cannot see how you were to blame, It was no one’s fault, It was just an unusual hap- pening-—a strange set of circum- stances, I could not blame you. ‘There is nothing to forgive, and if there were I would gladly forgive it!” “Then what on earth makes you look #0 white and feel so distressed?” ho asked in a distracted voice, aa a man will sometimes look and talk to the woman he loves when she be- comes a tearful problem pair to his obtuae eyes. “You're ¥ not mourning for that brute of a man to whom you had prom- ised to sacrifice your life? She shook her head and buried her face in her hands again, He could see that the tears were dropping be- tween her fingers and they seemed to full red hot upon his heart. “Then what fs it? His tone was almost sharp in its demand, but she only eried the harder, Her slender shoulders were shaking with her «rief now, He put his hand down softly and touched her bowed head, * n't you tell me, dear?” he WELCOME” My aA? Fhe ae ve Date te is hie rae atsel 1. B breathed, and, stooping, knelt beside her. The sobs ceased and she was quite atill for a moment, while his hand still lay on her hair with that gentle, pleading touc “It ie—because you married me—in that way—without knowing—— Ob, can't you see how terrible”— ‘Oh, the folly and blindness of love! Gordon got up from his knees as if sho had stung him. “You need not feel bad about that any more,” he said in a hurt tone, “Did I not tell you I would set you free at once? Surely no one in his genres could call you bound after such circumstances.” ry still ARR RRAR ATR WA AMMA MAT BN instant, as raised her golden hea sweet eyes suddenly grown haughty, “You mean that I will set you sald coldly, “tL could not tting you be bound by a misunderstanding when you were un- der great stress of mind. You were in no wise to blame. I will set you fi ‘As you please,” he retorted, turn. ing toward the window again, “It all amounts to the same thing. There is nothing for you to feel bad about.” “Yea, there is,” she answered, with a quick rush of feeling that broke through her assumed haughtiness. “I shall always feel that I have broken in upon your life. You have had a most trying experience with me, and you never can quite forget It, Things won't be the same”. She paused and the quiet tears chased each other eloquently down 4 her fa “No, “thin, me. said Gordon still bitterly; will never be the same for shall always see you sitting there in my chair. I shall always be missing you from it! But I am giad—glad, I would never have known what I missed if it had not been for thi He spoke almost savagely. He did not look around, but she was staring at him in astonishment, her bi yes suddenly ight. “What do you mean’ she asked softly. in He wheeled round upon her. “I mean that [ shall never forget you; that I do not want to forget you. I whould rather have had these two days of your sweet company than all etime in any other companion~ she breathed. “Then, why— why did you say what you did about being free?” “I didn't aay anything about being free that I remember. It was you who said “I gaid I would set you free. I could not, of course, hold you to a bond you did not want”—— “But I did not say I did not want it. I said 1 would not hold you if you did not want to stay.” “Do you mean that if you had known me a@ little—that Is, just as much as you know me now—and had come in there and found out your mistake before it was too late, that you would have wanted to go on with itr She lonsly. “If you had known me just as much you do now, and had looked up and seen that it was I and not George Hayne you were marrying, would yo have wanted to go on and be mar- ited for bis answer breath- jed Her cheeks grew rosy and her eyes confused, “L asked you firgt,” she sald, with Just a flicker of a siile. ught the shimmer of light in e toward her eager- | aglow now with nk. “TL can go far- ther than you have asked, From the first minute my eyes rested upon your face under that mist of white vell I wished with all my heart that I might have known you before any other man had found and won you. When you turned and looked at me with that deep sorrow in your eyes you pledged me with every fibre of my being to fight for you. I was yours from that instant. And when your ttle hand was laid tn mine my heart went out tn longing to have it in mine forever. I know now, I did not undorstand then, that the real reason for my not doing something to make known my tden- tity at that instant wan not because was afraid of any of the things that might happen, or any ace! might make. but because my heart wan fighting for the right to keep what had been given mo out of the unknown. “You are my wife, by every law of heaven and earth, 1f your heart will but say yes, I love you, as I never knew a man could love, and yet If you @o not want to stay with me I will @@t you free; but tt | that I should never be the sa: for m ried to you in my heart and ways shall be, Darling, and anawer my question now.” He stood before her with out- stretched arma, and for answer she Foss and came to him slowly with downcaant eyes. *T do not want to be set free,” she wald, Then gently, tenderly, he folded hia arms about her as if she were too precious to handle roughly, and laid lw lips upon hers, It waa the shrill, insistent clang of the telephone bell that broke In upon ther bliss. For a moment Gordon Jet it ring, but {ta merciless clatter be denied, so, drawing within bis arm, he mado her come with him to the phone, To his annoyance the haughty voice of Mins Bentley answered him from the little black distance of the phone. H's arm waa about Cella and she felt his whole body stiffen with for- mality. “Oh, Mins Bentley! Good morn- ing! Your message? Why no! Ah! Well, I have but just come tn’— A pause during which Cella, panic- stricken, handed him the paper on which she had written Julia's mes- ly, hi 4 dawning understand he sald sage, "Ah! Oh, yes, T have the mes You, it 1s very kind of you"— he mur- mured atiffly, "but you will have to excuse me. . veallys Tt ie utterly impospible! TI another eng ment—" his arm stole closer ar Celia’s walkt and caught her h hajding it with a meaningful pressure, I shelter of the He smiled, with a grimace toward the telephone which gladdened her heart. “Pardon me I didn’t hear’ he went on, ee ny engagement and come? © wibly!" His voice rang decided force, and he vscr the soft fingera in hand. 9 “Well, I’ feeb that way about it. I nly am not trying to be disagreeable. No, 1 could not come to-morrow night either, * * © JI cannot make any plans for the next few daya, © © © I may have to leave town j * * * It Is quite possible I may 1 to return to New York. Yes, bust- ness has been very pressing. I hope, you will excuse me, TI am to disappoint No, of course I t do it on purpose, I shall have some pleasant news to tell you when I see you again—or"— with a glance of deep love at Celia, “perhaps I find means to let you know of it be- fore I see you.” The color came and went tn Celia’s cheeks, She understood what he meant and nestled closer te him. “No, no, I could not tell it ever the» phone, No, it will keep. Good Le | will always keep if bs 4 are d cared for you know. jo, really I can't. “And I'm very sorry to it you to-night, but it can’t oe loes. * * © Goodby.” ‘ He hung up the receiver with a sigh of reilet, “Who is Miss Bentley?” asked Colla, with natural interest. She w pleased that he bad not ad- sed her as “Julla.” “Why, she is—a friend—1 eu; you would call her, She bas taking possession of my time rather more than I reall ). Still, she is a nice girl. Yow ke her, I think; but I hope you'll it too intimate. I sboulan ike to ave her continually around. rea! he paused and finished, laughiag— “she makes me tired.” “T was afraid from her tone whea, she phoned you, that she was a very? dear friend—that she might be some one you cared for, There was a sort - of propri iy) tone.” the oy word, rahip,” he laugh ha | "t c for her, I never did. I tried to consider her in that light one day, becaune I'd been told repeatedly that I ought to settle down, thought of having her with me al ways was—well--intolerable. The fact Is, you reign supreme in a heart that has never loved another girl, I didn't know there was such « thin as love like this, I knew I ached something, but I didn't know what it io greater than all the this gift of your love. ould come to me in this beautiful, unsought way seems too wood to be true!" He drew her to him looked down into her lovely face, if he could not drink enough of its sweetnoss. “And to think you willing to be and he folded my wife! My wife her close again, A discreet tap on the door an- nounced the arrival of the man Henry, and Gordon roused to the necessity of ordering lunch, He stepped to door with @ happy smile and h it open. ‘ome in a minute, Henry,” he aald. |'This ts my wife. I hope you will henceforth take her wishes ag your special charge, and do for her as you have done so faithfully for me,” The man’ hone with pleasure as he bowed before the gentle “I is very glad to head it, gah, and I offers you my congratulations, sah, and de lady, too, She can't find no bettah man in the whole United States dan Mars’ Gordon. Ie mighty glad you done got ma'ied, an’ fare you bof have a ty fine fe. The luncheon was served in Henry’ dest style, and his dark face shone yea low Plage, and casting admirin, at the lady, who stood hol “Your mother, you say aho is! And she died eo You never knew her? strange and sweet and pitiful to @ beautiful @irl-mother She put out her hand to bie ta the window, thought Henry did not eee and touch that but he discreetly averted a8 walled benigniy at the ealt.; and the celery he was arranging. Then he hurried out to a floriat’s nex: door and returned with a dosen waite iteira enien he arranged in @ » one of the erick Mebon to his Gordon |. It had never used before, except to stand om mant Tt was after they had finished elightful luncheon, and Henry el the table and left the reom, that Gordon remarked: “I wonder what has become ef George Hayne, Do you suppose he means to try to make trouble?” Colla’s handa fluttered to her threat with @ little gesture of fear. she said. “I had forgotten How terrible! He will something, of course. He will everything, He will probably carry out all his threats. How could | have forgotten! erhaps Mamma is now In great distress, What can we do? What can I do%” She looked up at him_helplesely, and his heart bounded at the thought that she was his to protect as long as life should last, and that she al- ready depended upow him, “Don't be frightened,” he soathed her. “He cannot do anything very dreadful, and if he tries we'll soon silence him, What he has written In those letters Is blackmail. He is ply a big coward who will run hide as soon as he is exposed. WM thought you did not understand Ii and so took advantage of you, sure I can silence him." "Oh, do you think #0? But mamma! Poor mamma! Tt will kill her! And George will stop at nothing when he is crossed, I have known him too long. It will be terrible if he carr out his threat." Tears were in her eyes, agony in her face. (To Be Continued.) 1 NEW YORKERS IN THE TROPICS ® The Book on the Stands Will Cost Yqu $1.28 You Get It for 6 Cen paler it