The evening world. Newspaper, August 8, 1914, Page 9

en ge IE elk? Ft WB be, is OF FaECEDUNY OMAPTERS. faree to guard’ ‘nd. ourrendere CHAPTER XXII. (Con ) Breaking Into Prison. R. KREELMAR took the | y Paper and read it hurriedly, " @umbling parts of the hastily scrawled sentences aloud, “*. . . Gone away... fora Seng time . . . please, please do _ Bot try to find me . . . there was @eetherway .. AN ak ecree dropped the note upon the table, took customary re! fm Bis handkerchief and mopped prog ‘Vously at his face. “What's it mean, eh? What's it meant” he inquired weakly. “Gone where? What for? ‘The only way’'— ‘what @ mean by that?” “Bhe was here lees than an hour age when I went down to the vil- fage’—the Warden's voice choked. “i @og't know what it means. She was {ust a6 the always was then. There's me reason Why she should go away, whe"— “You're eure that's her writing on Qh note?’ demanded Dr. Kreeimar wuddenly. ‘The Warden picked up the sheet of Paper again and studied it anxiously. “Yes,” he said, “It's her writing— fad ahe's gone, Kreelmar. Do you unéerstand?—she's gone—what are Bre te det” “De! Do!” flung out the little doc- fen “Why, Gnd ber, of course—no (matter what she says in that note. If ste was here an hour ago she can't be fer and"—— ‘arden Rand had “doctor's arm and was ie it flercely. step sounded on the veranda— it step, the hall. = it very slowly— eatering th warden's grip tight- ones. ote e—it's Janet!” & wens ache into, the room like one in ber Ce i A mage she Pie Rot see them—her bi pressed to her temples, her eyes. ‘halts cloned, mn j@ vestige of color in the etrained, drawn fa: her father ort Maca Beavers, child, pened F @ moment she looked at them in @ Gased, almost unconscious way. Her eyes passed from father to Dr. Kreel- mar, then rested on the note in the ‘warden’s hand. A pitiful smile quiv- ered on her lips and she shook her she said in a low, un- voice. “Not now—don't ask I did not think you would before you went to bed.” janet, you are ill—you a @@id the warden, greatly di “Mreelmar, you—" ‘said mechanically. “Not elek, not Please ; 1 am only—very tired, do not worry about me, dad. I-1 think 1 will go to my room. turned toward the door—and A dawning something crept hope—a fear—her now, clenched Bom was running bur- ty outside—running up the ve- randa steps. Varge!—had Varge come back—bad ething kept bim from revching t! e had ome back—here? The bell is perfunctorily; but outer do open, and, with- out welting for 4 response, a blue- ceatea prison guard stepped across the hall to the doorway of the sit- tipg-room and saluted. enty-seven’s given him- he panted, out of breath, back ten minutes, ago, si For an instant it was as tho t bo ed death had fallen upon the and upon the guard's face came an awe-struck, frightened look Py he about him. The warden at him; Doctor Kreel- mer was staring at him—the warden’s been outstretched toward Me*aausnter, and as though he had been turned suddenly to stone he stood Fone in that attitude with hie arms ais bok he doctor's hand and tf were glued immov- , Lo ite @ forenend, Only the slight Ustle fgure in white astirred—she seemed to away queerly from elde to Am instant the allence held, then it broken by @ low, moaning cry tr acry in words, aob- fac Oh, dad! et you ? Tlove him. I—" (i a quick step toward her, the caught her in his arme—end ickiy, the Il lifted, Doctor rushed {mpetuoualy across he rotm, launched bimself upon the and shoved the man out onto fegsyou confounded, blunderi founded, blunderin; i" ke oxbleded ferociously, “What's the matter?” gasped the hatter or!” rasped out th Sy out the ee man. “None of your business! ? None of your business! a rate,” eald the guard weakly, you know anything—eh?" led the cholerio little doctor. "Dea't you know anything?” Next Week's Complete Novel in The Evening World “I—I don’t know, sir,” stammered the guard easly. “Yes, you , too!” asserted Dr. Soto fiercely, “Yes, you do, 00!""—he stab! “vieloualy with forefinger at the top button of thi uniform. “You know you don’t know anything—not a thing of what happened in there—not a thin; “No, sir,” said the guard. “You didn't @ thing’—the fore- Sager made a ‘eye on the but- ne “No, sir—not @ thing.” “You didn’t hear a word”—the fore- finger went in and out as unerring!: asa ton rod, and the while the little ‘or’s face was rome into innumerable scowls, and hie words, all bunched up together, were flung out like Duliete from the mussie of a Gatling “No, vnot—e word.” “welt then,” Jerked out the doctor, with earnest inconsistency, “keep your mouth shut about it!" “You can trust me, eif,” the guard assured him anxiously. “Hum!” commented Doctor Kreel- mar; tl with grim complacency: “If I can’t I'll make Gehenna a feat! er bed compared to what this place ‘Will be for you! Now, then, back you go! Real i, ne warden'’ll be over in a—when he gets ready—we're playin, chess. Seven-seventy: wen'h kee Lak Qs well as anybody . There! nothing about him to make a three- ringed circus over any more than any other man, ia there—eh?” “No, sir,” said the guard meekly, and, saluting, went down the steps. Doctor Kreelmar watched the man disappear in the shadow of the trees, then he turned and walked slowly back into the sitting room. Janet's face was buried on her father's shoulder, aud the warden'’s arms were wrapped close around the little form that was shaking with coavul- sive sobs. The docfr shook his head at the question in the warden’s ‘4 ; Slance. “She doesn't need me," he said, a curious gruffness in hie voice. “Carry her upstairs and let her have her Ad out—and let her have it out arma, Rand. I'll wait bere for'ys pore until you come down again.” They passed out of the door, Janet in the warden's arms, and Dr. Kreel- mar sat down in a chair and stared at the floor. He sat there for very long time without any movement; then he got down on his knees and began to pick up the chessmen from the carpet. He picked them up very slowly, one at a time—where two lay together he picked them up separ- ately. When they were all ploked up, he packed them back in the box, folded up the board, carried box and board to the bookcase, came back to chair—and stared at the floor again. After a while, the low murmur of voices reached him from above. The handkerchief, that had never left hia hand, mopped suddenly, uncertainly, at his forehead. After another while, ragging, Ww , descend) ire, came to him. Doct reel mar with a strange little shake of his body, stood up and faced the door. ‘There was anxiety, confusion, dis- may and a smouldering fire in the warden’s eyes as he came into the room and dropped heavily into a chair across the table from Doctor Kreel- reelmar,” ho said hoarsely, “this 6 awful. Varge came back here to- ight to see Janet. It seems he idn't intend to be seen himself— Sut she saw him. You heard what she said down here—she loves him— she told him @o to-night. He loves her. She says that they were going away together—that she persuade him they must. She was to meet him at the bridge. She came dnto the house to write that note and get some things, and he started to go to the bridge through the fields. i@ never went there—I don't know where he's been for the last half-hour, but now he’s given himself up. She says she understands now— that he has done it for her.” ‘The warden raised his head, and his hand on the table curled into clenched knob. “Kreelmar, what do you stand there with one of my convicts! Don't you understand? A a Meer—my little girl and @ His fist was opening and closing — a mirthless, unpleasant laugh purled from his lips. Dr. Kreelmar reached over and laid his hand on the warden's arm. “Rand, old friend!” he sald quietly, “there's no use letting go like that— not a bit. I think I understand— better than you do. Let's talk about it @ little, ae though it were—the weather. Warden Rand met the doctor's eyes for a moment, then he brushed his hand nervously across his forehead and allowed his body to relax a little in_ his chai Dr. Kreelmar pulled bis own chair a little nearer to the table and sat called him a convict, a id slowly, “and it is true— in innocent man.” t!"—the word seemed to ly. “TD ent! 1 that ever since he came here! How do you know he' innocen' know It, replied the little doctor calmly, “You've never sald so in so many words, but you've believed it— ever since he came here. Say It to- night, Rand—now—when It costs more to say it than It ever did before. Be the fair man yor ®. Go back to the beginning, without the prejudice of what's hap) kppened to-night, and pic- ture him and every act of his from the time Be came to the penitentiary.” long silence. Warden Rand "drummed on the table, his eyes on hin restiess fingers, his brow knitted. The doctor sat motionless, watching him-wailting for him to epeak. “Well,” said the Warden heavily, at jast, “I'll admit it. I've felt that way, it is true—if it does you any good to have me say so. But what difference does it make to-night whether he ia innocent or guilty? He's a convict— in there—under life sentence.” “It makes just this differenc % WN Res ahaa The Story of a Nameless Hero’s Sacrifice and of a Love That. Would Not Be Sacrificed GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN © GHT .Prayveo UP Doctor Kreelmar’s hand reached out again and rested on the Warden's arm, and his fingers closed with quick, earnest pressure. — aie ee hi he is the man whose love ind of love I'd hope for for a daughter of mine—and never expect Rand, think of it, if that is innocent his sacrifice is aa nearly analogous as human sacrifice could ever be to that Divine sacrifice Nineteen hundred years ago. Want you to think of it, Rand—we've ot to face this thing calmly, old yee, —and fight it In fact, there is less likell~ hood than ever of it. he have spoken, it was his way out to- night—and he went back there in- No; I was not thinking oS that—It almply solves the probi his immediate disposal, that’ He must f dying?” to speak—not Varge.” The warden shook his head doubt- fully. “It 19 not an easy thing to do,” he repeated, passing his hand backward and forward across his forehead in a “Who will find this said the little doctor 1" ‘drew back his hand and ran it giowly through dis hair. nd leaned a little further forward his eyes full on the ds out before him; the fingers, interlaced, working over the white showing at the CHAPTER XXIII. Mrs. Merton’s Reque ARGE, Mrs. “Janet says he did not intend to be geen when he came back to-night,” Doctor Kreelmar went on presently. “A love that would impel him to take the risk he took for just a glimpse, a sight of her, la a love few men would be capable of. thought I realized what all this meant better than you did—I think I because the shock to you has been greater and you are upset now. said you did not know where he had been during the last half-hour when et to wo to the bridge—I Varge laid down the phial in bis band and looked up gravely into the fage of Doctor Kreelmar, who had = told you that ad just entered the little prison lab “I did not know,” he said in a low “I did not know that she was “Been failing,’ mar brusquely, said Doctor Kreel- rer since—hum!— where alono—with his God. Janet was vight—he has given himself up for It ls not the man who would have auffered in the years to come, it fe the woman—Janet. “His love had brought him back and he had agreed to go with if that love had brought him back once when he did not know she loved him--you said she only told him to-night—it would bring him pea again @ thousand times more when he knew she cared for him: ‘and the next time he would not stop even where he stopped to-night. the only way he saw to T am not a vi Rand, not big enough even to grasp it all—there is a great strength ther and a magnificent weaknes! love, that enhances the str atill grave, but ques- tioning now, held on the doctor, ‘There was @ long pause. “She's asked to see you,” “The district-attorney endorsed her request and sent it to The governor has granted it with the proviso that you 0 without coerclon—of your owa free It is your right to refuse. Do you want to go?” Varge turned to the barred win- w' » dow at his side and stood looking out. The prison yard was dotted here and there with gray-and-biack striped forms, some imoving hurriedly, some with slouching gait, aa they went about the errands upon which they His eyes fixed for an instant on a gang of fifty or more convicts who were busy on an ex- oavation at the corner of the power which was to be enlarged— then swept to the gray walls, topped carbines on their little doctor, the governor. 33 were engaged, ‘olce broke a don't know how you feel about it—but jomehow, that I'd like to be a It was a long time before the war- Neither man looked at the other—the warden’s eyes wore on the table—Doctor Kreelmar had risen impulsively from his chair as he fin- {shed speaking, and had wal te by guards with arms pacing ceaselessly to that bounded his range of v. The horror, the agony, Jessness of the three days had been back, thoughts throu, less nights, has the torture of his sh the black of sleep- beon a hell of mad. said the war- lence—his voice den, breaking the was steadier now, but very lo his resolution, which the prison da: been as @ deep, still pea oul and spirit —and the face of Mrs, Mer- but does It help anything but—but make it harder?" Doctor Kreelmar turned from the d came back to the table said earnestly; And it does more than that—It shows Assuming Varge's in- nocence, we must prove It—It forces us to prove It, to probe this thing to It gives us not only the right to do It, but it makes it our for Janet's sake alone, Are You Going Away for Vacation? When you go out of town for vacation you may find It is difficult and costly to provide yourself with the right jth of reading the very bottom. duty to do it~ if for no other reason.” Warden Rand smiled a little wanly. “It is not an easy thing to do,” 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 rest of the summer 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 their vacations in the country. “Porhaps not,” admitted Dr. Kreel- “But we've got to try, gin with, Varge is.as much @ doctor aa Tam, all but the name: and it will be natural enough for you to detail him to the infirmary where he will be with me.” make him speak for himself—on ac- count of what's happened to-night— on account of—of Janet?” THE BEST DOG STORY EVER WRITTEN. KAZAN ton, that In the days gone by had risen #0 vividly before him, bringing comfort and a new courage, now had come not at all, or if it came only as some blurred, indefinite, misty thing, almost meaningiess— whose power was gone. If he could seo her Se tn that face, every Uneament, in his mind anew—restore the power to this talisman! His glance shifted to a little group just below the window. being shown through the prison, i sid few steps behind the suard who cond’ satin Fee Es : tivel; passed & D jece of tobaceo convict. ‘The convict looked up, met Varge's eyes and grinned. ‘Why 41d Mrs. Merton en tr Jo at wan her reason for the pa but what, rt mT _ could ry shat | ewoet ol old tnee tl Ne 1 now as Ct never needed it . bas fore! pe | jowly from window en the doctor. “T will ‘he sald quietly. hom ae id the doctor. brows mitted ‘a little, and he stered Varge curiously, “I had ant you'd Labo ‘Then & bea Ps aad reason for eur amile, sently, eatirical, played over Varge’s a, ont cee: t Be bis 16 100! al bas axne governor specify y toa too ake lars face puckered up In ly, Dr. Pane Rout waiting for any rep! je re aoe Lahr out of the Ly yah tt is the ateel pe oe sve 9 ‘a no use mal ous over sues, in the town oF ot her—watt" rden Rand. said soomeary." “He waited seta "the the clerk roeke gone out of the nt ‘Btall, he 4 searching! + think he’ he said sussest ay. ° wine to 0, ,” gald Dr. Kreelma: “Did. you tel him Mra. Merton was * that she was very ill.” Nor that she ny she wanted to eee ‘him: a “No,” Hed the doctor; “and I didn't tell him, He just looked out of the window, for = gna with nls ‘* turned to me er ane. wanted to see him, but that he could go or no he raid he wi id we s chair ganeanee sud- sideways. ‘wonder why he wants to go?” he oni. with a perplexed frown. ag fool enough to ask him,” the little doctor, with “Wasted breath! what I'd like to know myself. about lived over in Berley F: the other night—you know w! done—not much—not enough to make awa; us turn up our noses at any straw that blows our way—that story ef Mart Robson's is rather interesting— interesting enough to make me es- pecially anxtous to find out Varge's reason for this—if I can, It may not mean anything, but I'd like to find out —if I can, I'll drive him over in my buggy—what? As far as his trying to get away is concerned, it would be sate enough to send him over alone,” “Anything,” sald the warden, ing abruptly from his chair, voice caught a little. Kreelma I—1 think her heart is breaking’ “You might send her away for a while,” advised the doctor, a little f iy. won't go"—Warden Rand shook his head Fearity. “No,” said Doctor Kreelma sudden and suspicious erutne I suppose she won't," the warden's shoulder aympathetl- ly, then wheeled ound and ed quickly to the door. At the threshold he halted for instant. “You can send Seven-seventy-seven out to the buggy,” he called “Ill be ready in minutes.” CHAPTER XXIV. The House of Death. ‘T was Dr. MacCausland, the confrere of Dr. Merton, who admitted them to the house, and who, after a kindly word to Varge, drew Dr. Kreelmar to one aide. ainet my wish and ad- id, In a grave undertone. “Bhe is very low and liable to go at any moment, but her mind {a still clear and she keeps asking for him constantly. I haven't the heart to refuse—it seems the one thing sho wants, and ultimately it can make vith Ni A — Novel Each Week in he Evening World ‘9 not at all well and hag tal ‘he, chose, and thet the inevitable—a matter of hours at beat.” Dr. Kreelmar nedded soberly. “The warden telephoned yout” he asked. “Yen,” Dr. MacCausland answered; “and I told her you were coming, but abe knows you are here now—she ©: heard the bug wheels, We had better go up. inrold and the nurse Dootor toalmar, under lip with the knuckle of hte thumb and the tip of his forefinger. “What's Harold aay about itt” wed to it from ght proctor oa] on & Ver} sinking st r+ Sour from whieh 1 was afraid ste would not rally by tively refusing to be present. that was barely enough to make him consent, He has not been him- self lately, especially since I told him two days ago that there was abso- lutely no hope for his mothe: hard tnteed; in fact, his condition is eueh as to cause me serious anx- t 4 be wi won't listen to advice.” ‘Hum |" Doctor Kreetmar in, wells tien, shall we go up?” fo turned and walked back Cae ie “Pollow. Dootot: Mascuuslent } “Fol itor uslat he ngald prio. si Varge said quietly as he obey It seemed as though he were P Sriceas in some strange place, not actually but res ge fee ll resent, and in this strange rag roundin; “aes atrangel; ‘ik green backgroun —that closed door at the it of the Emre A) had Lae There wes news wu . ing his heart—a free twolehe that eak, 8¢emed to bear his ‘shoulders down and deprive his steps ney, hie mind of the vital to o rome \ to the effort of analyst Mechanically he Mollowed Doctor MacCaualand. They reached the ‘head of the stairs and turned along the upper hallway—and then, sud- denly, the mist, the fog, the apathy was gone from him. They were at Foon before the door of the front er room—the scene of her Cee h for Jearned to lap out where, aa he Cag! taught him to sa: Boftly Dr. MacCausland openeé the door and motioned Varge forward. A man with bis back turned—Mar- old Merton—stood at the window; a nurse, in uniform and cap, rose from & chair at the far sida of the bed. look neither—it was only rted silver hair, the » gentle it crowned he saw and it was the past upon him, th Pa: with all the arms—that were involuntarily cut toward her. one, thea half way to the bed iB bis Kreel- je room pie The dark eyes of Haroid Merton, like burning fires they seemed in his drawn, chalky face, shot a glance over hie shoulder—there was a soft rustle of she bent forward a little over the bed. Between hands Mrs. Merton's Ups moved jently. Suddenly Verge, ‘straightened in a strange, alert, startled way, as though If ning intently th: breathing—bit trained ear troubled, anxious, upon t! Slowly’ Mrs. Merton uncovered ber face, and her hand reached out to whiapered, and t is—that is why Through a mist now Varge saw her —~but through the mist he réad it all. On his knees by the side of the bed, he buried hie face in his hands ik. and bowed his head on the counter- pane, Dootor Kreelmar had told him she was very ill; Doctor Kreelmar had not told him-—that she was baie ——that the end was very near. he had@ not seen it at firat—only the samo dear face that he bad always known had come back to the galleries of his memory like @ retouched plo- ture—he had not seen the change at first—the change that comes but once —forever. Bhe acemed to be speaking again, very slowly, almost inaudibly—es though to herself—sand he could not catch the words. Then her voice rose ronger in fervent earneatness—she peating the Lord's prayer. . . « Forgive us our treapasses, an we forgive them that trespass against us"— She did not finish—her voice fatled, and there was no sound in the room save a low, suppressed sob from the nurse across the bed. prensa: she apo! effort, with long pauses when we ness overcame he: “T have loved you all your life, Varee, almoat as though you had been my own boy—but I could not forgive ‘ Harold set me the example one forgave you long ago, but I could Fi I have prayed that I ills but I could not, for in my bit- terness I forgot that I was the only mother you had ever known and that—that perhaps, [ had fatied in some way in iny duty to you that I had not tried as I should have tried when you wery & Iittle child to make you strong for the years to come.” * Binding tears were raining through Varge’s hands—the great shoulders shook Her hand found his head and rested upon It, “Tam going home, Varge,” she sald AN IDEAL SUMMER ROMANCE OF THE GREAT OUTDOORS JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD 3 moment he looked at her ) @ By_Frank L. Packard but little difference, as the end ta © as we forgave others . . « not do it with my owa strength, but Me has answered my prayer and now I can forgive, Varge. . I forgive . +. and I have asked Him for pardon for you, to The nurse was sobbing audibly now: wet eyed, both doctors bowed their heads; Harold Merton wa ise, the be oulders ben! little for- eyes starin; the scene they were held upon it by 8 ‘d, hi some hofrible fascination that he could not overcome. Varge's face was still buried in bis hands—there were ne words to say—grief seemed to rend wide his soul} the awfuiness of the unconscious trony to appal him. se fell upon the room long atillness—and then ia she spoke, very faintly, struggling for her words. "Once—that day — those terrible st words I said to you-I have asked It had not been a pleasant sight when the man had. become more rational and the little doctor, without mercy, pitilessly, tole: no 6 aranget of interference, had pi oes Soames the misérable ory fe on, and in the presence of Doel bag ee asa pane had m the wretched man sign his confession, ise ey, had es left Merton tossing rah ae locked w his The: a Dre ‘Ma for forgivenoss for them, too—and He Kree! @eemed to bid me ask first from you you will forgive me, Varge, and— and try Sever to remember them His hand reached up to where hers lay upon bis head and drew it down and held it agminat his face. “Tell me so, Varge,” she whispered. have forgotten them long, long ago,” be sald brokenly. Her fingers tightened over his, held there for a little while, and then, as though etrength failed ¢hem, There fell again sounded behind vi lacCausiand leaned @ Varge raised his head. back upon tg pillows, a ness, a grea! upon as though she "were peed from his Neat one A, eeer ene no! is hol walking trom “the room room as 6 blind man walks, He reached the shocked, stood suddenly still, as a fearful ory in tories BE he cova A pawing at his arms, his shoulders. BA ony dead!” he bal ly. “She's dead—b insane! oe yt you'd never sone Ree iat you swore you'd ni peak” Upon Vi in @ lightning ‘Saab, as he stared into the distorted ewept the meaning of it all—he hi not Miho it of that; pected Mra, Merton's and now—Merton bebe lecind one at him, greepin t hie ha babbling in the same Norrid wa way. “—You swore you'd nevér speak, Varge—you remember that day in —you ewore you'd the penitentia never apeak—you"— Dosto: r Kreelmar had stepped aud- denly from the doorway, stepped be- tween them and his hand fell like a vise on Merton's arm. There was & grim, bulldog look on his face ag he thrust it close to Merton's. “Speak of what?” he said, in a lew, t! cold voice. ., Merton's face, white, full of terror before, wae ghastly now—bis eyes were fired ith @ mad light, He clawed at ay ree upon his feet, until he had “It's a the hall, T occ! I wan boy, It's been too mueh for him!” "Hum!" said Kreel: arimly. “Yes; I think it has.” CHAPTER XXV. The Barriers Down. HITISH-GRAY ia the full, id Merton's And then the man came rushing upon him from the room and was led horribl; ir dae ttt id v hy had not ex- death — the other had—had expected it for days— ony re Nel” he fore ane wrigwied inertly to the rr. “Good heavens!” cried Doctor Mac- Causiand, as he came sonhing it poet pny hi a of th 14 of © collapse, as I told talaga he could hear it yet—the sullen, mufe fled report of a revolver . It he who had broken In the door tne found Merton a huddied heap the ag eg was ali—the man never spoken again—but dai head fal rent 4 ‘were flowers and trees and eee again, and children Fiseend pont A mirth, and that God juld grant. Drame? No—he beng Lge yy he wan tt hed tI” sald the little man lett tood an instant al at oth sect Mae, er before t! Pe prison pets, Pofey handkerchlet ‘and be Dewan to “Hum!” eaid he. 1 Ive bat @ little talk ae — bes e him before waiting fo for me"—he je: xed a a time with hi : a it T ime wi im, oy walk down HS ee u I'd it he fi ane to raring into” the others face. ” he said, and doubt and ans in hie voles, “you meas “Mean sey—usually make a point Int of f ” enapped the tt. dootor tartly. ‘ou're @ free ol upon the doctors and drew the little maas’e dently close te his own. “IT can ge to her—n hoarsely, and his bright moonlight the road mar stretched out ahead, and th esemed bathed soft radiance and be > there wae a quiet, a deep, am serenity over all, as though Nature taking her repose—no eound but the rhythmic beat of the horse's hoofs, the pleasant rattle of 4 all the ia @ herself we the bugsy's wheels, From the brow of the bill, where, in another world {t seemed now, in © ead Dr. Kreslmar, end @ crept into his volce as turned and started up the tlary ry steps. OT fc foi white to i you that the far past, in the long ago, Varese ig oug had first seen the penitentiary at sunrise, the prison stood outlined in the calm light, the walle traced tn black, uncouth shapes, the great .. dome of the central building rising inet the sky. Around and around it, the fields, the little village, the sweep of country, white- s near at hand, gradually merged, blurred and indistinct with distance, into shadow, spectre-like cloaked In the moon into night. What men say to each other w' their hearts are full, Dr. Kreelmar and Varge had sald. They were silent now—as they bad been during the last half of the drive back from Berley Falls. Upon Varge was still a strange fense of unreality; still but the heat- tant understanding when the mind ts numbed for @ time In the face of some great erisis and there lingers the fancy that one ts but living in @ world of dreams; vivid dreams, tt ts true, but dreauim from which none the less surely there must eome the awakening—to reality. Harold Merton had told all—Varge raised his hand and passed it slowly across his eyes. To his soul @ cow- ard, Merton must have lived a life of frightful terror for the last two daye— from the moment he had known his mother could not Hve—and then, @ if Selde—end, ee en the the maples on the driveway were me. In Varge's heart was song again, and the melody filled his tured him—now rang; now triump! heigl now softened, rip! if tenderest harmon: a king of & wondrous would rei~n subject in glad, joyous homage to love—this Pid big abertieae peace, bi sorrow and great Beeriny him onward, in which med, to lose himself until, denly out of the bere nd name in liquid, silvery tones that Diended Iike some divine into the music in his soul, “Varge—just Varge! She was coming. waiting, watching for him, had heard hie step upon the drive- way. Yas: it was liky, that other » ight— the soft moonlig’t playin; golden head, lingering upo! beauty of her face, touching se rev~ erently the full, glorious throat, resin, in the hag white-¢! graceful form. Y: that other night it was—as th late ee bad SoU "This Book on the Stands Will Cost You $1.25. You Get It for 6c