The evening world. Newspaper, July 16, 1914, Page 15

T Pe a CHAPTER XVI. (Ooetiarved.) WAS hysterical. The ‘something’ was just & chimera of my fevered brain.” “You mean that you ‘will not tell me?” “There is nothing to tell.” ‘Their eyes held, questioned. “IT am asking you for your own ake,” he urged. ‘I have nothing to ‘sk for myself now—or ever again, Gall. Please, my beloved, give mi your confidence. No one can serve you as I can.” But to her it was still the husband wpeaking. And he was very near her. Bhe looked down at his outstretched hands—and felt herself trembling. She wanted to put her own within them. “I do not want you to serve me Her voice was high-keyed with fear. She drew away. “I have nothing to tell you. You must believe me. He leaned back in his chair, She refused to give him her secret. His lipg closed. He was through. What+ ever she had to tell must come to Bim of her own accord. Ghe saw his grieved eyes and Gropped her lashes quickly over her own—to hide their tenderness. “Oh!” Tt was Vai CHAPTER XVII. kissed hig mother, 98 sidled over to bis father, edging between bis knees. Oreutt caught him close in bis arms. “That's o beer hus, Papa.” § "Pretty lil was the response. ‘The child threw his arms around the man’s neck. “and this is a bear hug, o little bear's big—bis—big—hug. Ob, I love you a million tons’ tim “The operation will be day after tesmorrow," interposed Gall. ‘I saw Dr. Beateon this afternoon while you were away. He thinks ft ip unneces- sary to wait; that Vance Is strong enough now. The suspense will be over then"—— “and I will go the sooner to Flor- ida,” id Orcutt signifipantly. “Do you ever pity your poor husband, my—wite?” “Tam giving you Vance,” cried she, her voice choking over the words. ‘You will have him while I—— Qh! 1 mustn't think of it—I mt te strong till afterward! But can help but think of it—every hour I age you and Vance on the train ang 1 ‘alone watching you speed away: “Mamma!” Vance slid trom the s knees and ran quickly to be "Do you mean you aren't golng with up?” ‘With a berolc effort the mother pressed her feeling and bent an al- most cheerful face over the anxious upturned one. “papa and I can’t both go, dear. Qn s must stay at home because o Smenioe you would not understand even if I could tell you. Miss Lauder will take care of you, and you will have papa for company, and Aunt Dick.” * . want you aad papa.’ “You can only hav peturned, ag quiet as ter be paps, I think.” The child looked from one to the other, deliberating. He had learned long ago to know when to protest was useless, That thip wag one of the times be realized at once. “[ want you both,” he repeated. “oni” clapping bis hands. “I won't Tl ptey right bere. Ab!" Then; “Why @iéo't you think of that, Mamma? ‘That's easy as anything.” Ho stared dasedly as bis mother rose and fied the room. “[ wish—I ould understand— “One thing you must understand, partner,” sald Orcutt, “that @ man must protect a woman, always—al- wéys.” came ib & choked voice. “We ™ tale care of Mamme, you and without ever questioning what Mamma does; eee, partner?” “Because we're gentiemen?” que- ried the boy, wanting, os usual, to id things. “Because we're gentlemen, part- nér,” was the grave answer, oe @© # © 8 Next morning Dr. Underwood called. He walked in on Gall in the brary, bringing Orcutt with bim. “I bave come,” be began, address- HE R “THE WOMAN’S LAW OMANC ing Gall, “to epeak to you about your present strained relations with’— “One moment!” Interrupted Gail. “Pleage understand that the relations between Mr. Orcutt and myself are purely personal and private. Either as friend or physician, you must not speak for him. He agd I'—=— “Ah!” ‘The doctor's prominent jaw shot forward. “How was Mr. Orcutt when you last heard from him? Your husband is lucky to have Dr. Manton ; for a physician—wonderful man! tran- of scendent geniui He apent a day with me while he was here four years ago, @ banner day for me. We leseer men an only sit at his feet in wonder.” The man who loved Gail Orcutt watched her face. He leaped forward and pushed a chair under her sink- ing frame. “Don't be afraid, dear. In the end he'll be your friend, as I am—as I am, remember.” The alienist seated himself by the table. “You see, Mrs. Orcutt, he loves you. I shall have to fight a com- bination, I fear.” Gail's lips were ashen, the brilliant eyes stupid with sheer fright; ao ereeniah gray replaced the beautiful pallor. “Mr. Orcutt,” went on the doctor, “your defender hag asked me, nay, pleaded with me and threatened me, to show you mercy. His reason has been that he loves you. But if I seem harsh, cruel—you and he may say— It 1s because he does love you, be- cause you have enslaved him for your own selfish purpose. In other ways, where you, yourself, have been a victim, I shall try to remember your need and be fair, Will you Please tell us your story?” Gall stared at him with eyes. He broke the long silence that fol- lowed with a short laugh. “You want firet to learn how much I know, in truly diplomatic lon. Listen, Mra. Orcutt; route MS scence! 2 fhe steamer San @iorgio to Italy on the seventh ef lapt April, the day after he killed Lucas Emmet. He sailed under the name of George Ormond, and he atill woes by iuat name. He is new in Paris on the Rue de Rivoli, with a Valet and a physician as companions, acting under the instruction of Doctor Manton. “Your husband has incipient pare- sis; he ts incurable, and will grow steadily worse, but may live for yeers, @ burden to himself and to every one cannected with him. J have learned about him es a ‘case,’ and your se- cret is not outside this room. I knew from the beginsing that my patient was not George Oreutt, and I have wrviced steadily since bis recovery to learn hig identity. It is only this week that I have all the facts that I have related concerning your hus- band. If you will glance at these two pictures, you will see that no matter what else ts in doubt, there is no Queation that two separate individuals sat for them. Who ‘s the man be- side you? That is what I want to learn from you, Mra, Orcutt.” At the doctor's tei “Who ts the man beside’ you?" she started up as though electrically shocked. It was @ moment before she comprehended the question in {ts full significance. Dasedly, she glanced up at the face of the man who loved her. He was her friend because he was still in ignorance. She must tell them—tell them— Wildly, ike a creature hunted by bloodhounds, she fled to the further- most corner of the room, Puzzled by so strange a move, the allenist arose, his eyqs and brain alert to learn what such conduct meant. “Underwood, call It off. I don't care & rap who I am,” cried Orcutt. le reached out his hands to her. “Gall, look at me. I’m not going to let any one injure you, dear." He started, fell back a step before her ebrinking terror. ‘You are afraid of me—of ME!" He turned in bewilderment to the alfenist. "Underwood!" “You are the one she has Injured. She holds @ vision of the other wo- man waiting.” Gail's eyes, ablaze with a species of madness, sought the doctor's. “Tell me, in pity! Is there--some one?” Very gently, Underwood, all phy- siclan now that he read illness in her feverod eyes, guided her to a chair and bent her unresisting body to its depth. “Come, now; come,” he soothed “There is no one going to injure you; no one, Get a pmell glass of water, Orcutt.” Smiling, his voice running on in cheerful, friendly tone, the doc- tor stirred a white powder in the water. “Drink this. Ah, that's good. Now rest a little.” “Underwood,” cried the younger man, “Ign't this enough—for to-day, anyhow? You're driving her mad— and me. You hold the whip hand— be merciful.” “The most merciful thing to her Just now is to go to the end with this, Tell us, Mra, Orcutt.” A NE YORK Ghivering visibly under the impeil- ing gase, che answered humbly! “T will, She proceeded to her storys un- foliment, the sentences sometime: fast upon one another, and clearly qnupel: |. again haltingly, the tone #0 jow it was ao strain on her hear- @rs to catch all the words. Her voice ceased. She sat very still, her eyes bent on the floor, A sound broke upon the poignant stillness, an exclamation of resist- lesa humor from Orcutt. The alien- ist grinned in quick response. The cupboard wag bare and lo! the poor dog had none. The end of her tale found them where they were at the beginning—even farther away—for their final resort was now explored and found vacant of the expected treasure. She was as unpossessed of her victim's identity as himeelf. Its ludicrous element struck the waiting men first, keyed as they were to a fever pitch of expectancy: “You say my pockets were empty?” asked the man; “that there were no letters or papers about me; none She gave answer in the negative by a slow shake of the head. “But the label of my tallor, surely that told you the name of my town?” “Label? Yos, there would be a tellor’s name on ‘he coat. I didn't think—of that. He sald there was nothing—not the slightest clue to your Identity.” “He?—your husband? Do you mean that you, yourself, did not search?” “You—were a—strange man—and— And he promised”— “A strange man that was to bear the brand of murderer to serve you, that was to be brought into your house, pass for your husband, your child's father—— And you did not trouble to save a clue that might lead him to bis own Identification when you were through with bim!”" “Don't! Don't!" she cried out feebly against his stern eyes. “I was— oh! ‘You were in great need. I know. But that strange man was—helpless. You must have realized your respon- sibility toward him—and his,” be con- tinued. “No,” she protested. Then: “Yes yes—I knew—I always knew, only” “only"— “He came first—my baby! save him.” It was & simple statement. The physician nodded his head in under- stunding. But to the other, man only. her paasion of motherhood carried no illuminating messa, He continued to look at her in an appalled belief that he could not understand. She slid to her knees, caught his hands and laid them to her burning cheeks. Her eyes held hia imploringly. “I gaved your things, He—he nailed them in @ box— It's in the attic” "In the attic,” he repeated, strug- gling with the portent of her words, “You could have perhaps learned who Tam at any moment. And you have allowed me to love you not knowing what other ties I might have. You you, my Gail.” “Please don't be unfair," she sobbed T had to “My calendar ts black enough, You know I ha t wanted you to love me, I did want your friendship, but trade on.” not t an't make you out," he groaned. “You are an enigina, And the woman wood or evil © * © The box that EV. A NEW YORK MYSTERY STORY; ‘K’S COMPLETE NOVEL |’ E ‘NING WORLD == OF SMUGGLERS, THE BLUE BUCKLE By WILLIAM HAMILTON OSBORNE i my belonginge—just where is t Bh to her fest. “T'll have Jackson get it,” cried she. “He put it away and will know just where it is.” —_—— CHAPTER XVIII. JACKSON set the box on the i] floor and laid the hammer and chisel beside it, as di- rected by his employer, a lit- tle disturbed that he had not been allowed to draw the nails and remove the cover. Then he left the room. Orcutt knelt and picked up the tools, sweat dg of pure nervous- ness starting from his forebad. He removed the boards deliberately, loosening each before removing any portion of the cover. When open, he stared for a few moments at the uppermost contente—a coat of mixed gray and black in almort invisible stripes and a eelf-colored brocade nayy blue necktie, His hands stum- bled toward the coat. Then suddenly the groping stopped and his hands leaped forward with the precision pf an automaton, Into the depths of the right-hand pocket his fingers went unerringly. It was a crumpled yellow paper they drew forth. To the dull splash of tho rain against the windows and the irksome blowing of the gas logs was added Gail's sharp breathing. Sho leaned forward, her eyes resting in fascinated horror upen the yellow paper he was reading. “I didn't know!" she panted. “I didn't know!” The man staggered to his feet, opened his hand and held out the yellow slip to the doctor in ailen then walked to the window, pre! ing bis forehead against the cold pane. ‘The telegram vead: omnay, Cajifornia, April 1, 1924 “Mr. Keith Edgerton, Hotel Imperial, New York City. “Your father’s new horse, Go- rilla, backed him and Harold over @an Luis Arroya an hour «ago, Your father killed outright, Har- old died on the way home. Vic- torla prostrated, Please wire full instructions about your desires as to funeral, &c, Whole town ready to serve In @ny way and overcome with grief. This messago will seem heartless, but I have no other recourse. We decided after consultation that you must be told the truth at once, May Heaven help you, my boy, to bear matter. reading for six cents a week. by the foremost living authors ear this in mind, not only for 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 right sort of reading 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 By subscribing to The Evening World for the summer months you will secure a complete novel each week. country dealer has not been able to sell, but the finest up-to-date fiction yourself but for who expect to spend tle summer in the country. DICTOGRAPHS, - FIERCE this, Some one of us will meet you with automobile at any hour you may arrive, Your friend, “DANIEL MANNERS.” ‘The doctor read the message care- fully, then placed it in Gail's ou stretched hands, and walked to the window. He put an arm around the trembling shoulders. “Keith,” sald he, the name coming naturally, “I want you to go home This is 1 with me at once, dear boy. a crisis, I speak plainly, you eee. want you to put yourself in my cha: absolutely for the next twenty-four hours.” “Underwood, she has waited @ year. I must go to her now. Ah, my little Victoria, my poor darling!—and 1 wasn't there to comfort you"—— Gail had crept near. She stood now very still, a shaking wraith with the dumb suffering eyes of a dog wounded unto death. “Who is—Victoria?” she breathed. He did not look at her. “My sister, @ delicate girl of seven- teen,” he answered, bis voice omin- ously quiet. “You owe It to her to put yourself io my care for a day,” urged the physician, “You must go to her as a protector, not @ possible oharge.’ “My mind? It's all right, Under- wood, But I'll give you the day you want—I owe that much to you, surely. A day more will not seem long to Victoria after waiting @ yesr.” Gail reached out her bands in plead- ing. “I—I"—— came jerkily, “would die to—undo"— The moving finger writes—end Saéves on,” was the answer. “No— please don’t explain—I can’t bear any- thing more, and that—don't you see how inadequate anything 1s that you may say!” "Teal see"—abe quavered, gad lay, @ gold andé white bundle, abbis feet, unconscious. “Unconsciousness is the very beat candition for ber at present,” pro- nounced the physician. “Bhe's Gt qpb- fect fer » hagpitgl 1) aqrey ber to her room.” But the other man had raised her in bis arms and was gasing at her daath-like faop with eyes pot easy to fathom. “Look at her, Underwood. She's like a flower—e pure white lily. Would you believe she could murder & young girl—would you?” ‘The alienist glanced at him sharp- ly, bis gaze professional. “No; I'm not delirious, Victoria hadn't the strength to endure the corroding suspense of my absence on top of the—rest. tne is desd—mur- dered by this woman. Strange that God should make a creature so beau- tiful and not give her a soul,” He carried her up the broad staire and into her room. As he jaid her down her eyelids fluttered open. The physician approached with « hypodermic needle and @ glass of water, Seating himgelf ealmly, he raised the short, wide cuffed eleove above her elbow and proceeded to in- ject the morphis. “There, thet didn't hurt much,” soothed he, smiling professionally. “Your maid bas orders to undress you and get you into bed. I will send & nuree, and you must do just as she ssys. Rest and rest and more reat is what you need now. You've been keyed up for so long that now you want to cuddle down and be lazy like a kitten after a hard frolic to catch sbadow.” Her gaze, pitiably pleading, sped by him to the other. She pushed the doctor's detaining hand away, gered to her feet and clutched at Keith Edgerton's folded arms. “Try to understand"— she tm- plored. ‘Try to save my baby from shame—wasn't cruel when—I—dido’t —know. I thought you were friend- less, truly I did. I don’t think I could have done It—1f—I had—known.” “You don't think! Don't know?" “Dear, he's my baby. I'd go to hell and burn everlastingly {f 1t would in- sure his happiness.” The little caressing word had power to thrill him, even through his grief and horror and bitterness, Hot re- sentment and anger swiftly followed His eyes blazed “Don't- don't!” she mo: can't live if you despise me— you ned. Not some old book a of your friends JEWELS, know, you have always known, that I love you-—- Ah! you do know it~ you—mus' Yes, he knew, Underneath all Ma doubts and torments and unbelief he had yet known that she loved him almost from the first. “Knowing makes it all the harder to understand,” he cried, a great weariness in bis voice. “1 think—you—will—nover—under- atand That will be—part—of the —price I must pay"—— She resled from the morphia’s influence. “Ah— lay me—down"— . CHAPTER XIX. KEITH EDGERTON retufned with Dr, Underwood to the latter's sanitarium. Next day, Keith entered the doo- tor’s office the: “You sent tho message we agreed on? was Keith Edgerton'’s greeting. “Yes; at 4 yesterday afternoon.” ‘Tho wer! You have it—— the boy bring it as I was dressin, “Keith” — “It is true, then. She ie—dead! Little Victoria—murdered.” The allenist hesitated. “When did she die?" “Does it make any difference when, th?” asked the doctor softly. fo, it makes no difference. She was murdered, whether she died a month or eight months ago. Had I been taken in charge by an officer, as I should have been had I not been ruthlessly carried off, the telegram telling of father’s and Harold's deaths would have been found and answered. I should have been free to go home K convincing himself of his unpardonable guilt. But no; he Lage he was etmply stating the as it appeared to Bim, summing the evidence as might a Judge, al “The message, please,” came inel- atvely. quality of Edgerton’s grief. It was worded: LOMNAY, Cal., Feb. 18. “Morris Underwood, M. D., “Underwood Sanatorium, “Valhalla, New York. “Keith Edgerton left home tor New York City April 3, 1904, reg- istered at Hotel Imperial April 8. Disappeared same day after recetving telegram telling of death of fatber and brother. His baeg- age left at botel. Man of his description sailed on Btr. Pavl bound for Liverpool, same after- noon, jumped overboard next morning. No baggage, and no one aboard knew this man and no claims made later. Name on ship's sailing list—Ralph Stone Believe foul play, as Keith was very high-principled and consld- erate. Victoria, hia sister, died Qot, 20 of heurt complications. Last of Edgerton family here. All communications gladly answered that may lead to clearing mys- tery. Large estate in waiting. “JOHN L. MANNERS, M. D.” “Foul play! About as foul as has ever bean done, Underwood,” ead Edgerton grimly. “Had you worn a Vapdyke beard previous to your leaving home—long enough for there to bave been a photograph or kodak taken that way?” questioned Underwood abruptly. Edgerton awoke trom bis al thoughts, “No; I didn't take time to shave while— There bad been fliness—— I came away without much prepara- tlon——- The porter on the Pullman took my shagginess !n hand with evident delight, and seemed so proud of his work that I hadn't the beart to have a shave till out of his pres- ence, nor did I care—— If] had been jorbed shaved— If only I bad been shaved!" “Humph!” grunted the doctor, “You were searched for then, but without the identifying Vandyke beard that figured 90 prominently in the newa- paper accounts of Orcutt, Naturally, you were conflicted with the suicide, Stone And even if your picture ap- peared In the papers, they would rep- nt you as clean shaven, telling ing to me--ner even to Mrs, Ore sp ir friends hough the earth had e tt was as and swallowed you up-to us you aps peared as though dropped from a clear sky;—I sea more clearly than I have before how men are lost and never ace inted for—descriptions are perilous things to go by—and with so many nderfully easy to follow id of to the quarry. e of your own n inclined to not have anation here,” awed sventa, it is Ww away ft Yet, if tt { hunting think the topped wit ait been 0! for yout h would Pp Last Udgerton rd, in low, PLOTS AND “MAN- ree tones, his mind on the telegraphic communication from his home, not heeding the doctor's musings. "“Un- derwood, two years ago there were six of us, Mother's death, that came firet, was unbelievable. That one of Us should ever be separated from the others was a thing none of us could grasp. And she had always been #0 well; the very day before her death she was glorious with health and joy. She had been bothered a little at times with @ curious pain in her right side that she always laughed over and diagnosed as ice cream or too much fresh fruit or any other conceivably disturbing food. Then"— “Appendicitis.” ° “Appendicitis,” he echoed, shud- dering. “And we could not believe it even when we eaw her put ia her grave. We were like lost spirits for wooks after—the home was not our home without her. Agnes gathered up the reins of the household the best she céuld, and somehow we went on, We found we could live and even emile and laugh. But the ecar was there; she bad rocted s0 deep in us all that @ vital part of ourselves had been torn eway with her going— Then — Agnes! —ty- phoid"— He rose and paced the floor, his banda clenched. “Agnes!—part of myeelf in more than just flesh and bloed. Twins, we had played and dreamt and thought j 5 8 i ry 3 seni? i | and logic, bemoaa of conditions that in the very of things coulé never bave all” “Father and brother and burted, and I not there,” groaned the his mind wholly barren of the doctor's words. ‘Victoria lived eis months after the horror and shock of the grief that had gone before! walting that killed her—corroding sua- pense over me.” “Como, Kelth,” said the phystctan “no more of that. The past To accept it is all you can do. You are bla 3 of tt all.” “I?—~yes." Edgerton’s eyes, trans- fixed with dull agony, raised to the solocitous face. "She murdered Vic- torla as truly as we both sit here.” “And that is what you can't be re- ened to?” The words were more &@ statement than a question, went) ig the past. The dull voice went on, unheeding. “Phat she could do it!——the whole miserable affair. If tt had been one Impulsive act quickly repented of and righted as far as lay !n her power—— but this long lie, this carefully cons colved fraud, this damnable treathery! Lean't understand her, She's so cons siderate of others, so fair in her judg- ments, so adorably tender and wise with Vance.” “That's the solution of it all. She's COUNTERPLOTS MADE RULES”. By Maravene Tho mpson st OO &@ mother—and one of the mysteries of the world,” answered the physician, “Bhe will not only endure hell for the child she has borne, but will ruthless. ly drag any one else with her to serve him. You, any one, is but @ Pawn to be sacrificed.” “My mother and Agnes and ictle Victoria—there was rothing but gpod. ness tn them. ‘They wouldn't by Known how to play a part. We all lived in the open—body, mind and soul’! Just then the telephone rang. “You,” sald the doctor, handing over the receiver, ‘Papa,” came the child's vewe, high-pitched and tearful, and sounds ing throughout the room as clearly as at the receiver, “I want you. Mam- ma's sick and I—oh, papa, you are coming home—mamma ways you won't, ever She's de-lir-us, ten’t she? You are coming home and you are going south with mamma and me —you are, aren't you?—aren’t you: papa?” Keith Ed, rton’s answering voice » partner, I'm going south with you and memma. promised you, remember. you and Bryan can come for me i Bryan the open car, Be suse’ Gt ares’ Bat up well.” loctor ked at Edgerton the grieved, helpless way a father might look on a a bocardy wayward son bent wzA {20 there te," anid he bits y. & dupe now, but Ogued idiot, Hae c= . Tt E i : you can’t reali; baa Bb soa ls or @, J "%, cance. you"— stopped. Sentiment w: tJ She te, the caustic, jeomp The tender lighting of the younger Briar see wr “Te the lagt of the Edgertons, but oven go, not without some ore of my eaid he “Ne: Sire {2 low voloe. Ng: And when to start West? So se expec T'll arrange for m: absence while you're in Florida. i should rather leave Dr. Hall in charge—Unwin 1s something of a fool occasionally.” “T didn't say Y was going West," said Edgerton teraely. They stared at each other—glaredy more properly speaking. “You mean". “Perhaps I don’t know just what. I do mean,” Edgerton smiled faintly. “You have @ vision. What is it? “You would sneer at it. To have visions one needs faith in humanity. “Humph!" grunted the doctor, "You're going to try to give a wont an a soul, Don't. Phis soul bust ness {9 bad. Love her, If you mugte for the pagan she 1s, ‘and let it go at that." ‘A Knock sounded at the door, Vance, enveloped in furs, entered. “We've come for you. Mammy de-l-rus” (To Be Continued.) GEE _p, eee pene | This Book on the Stands Will Cost You 8 You Get It for @ Cents