The evening world. Newspaper, October 15, 1914, Page 19

~ (Copyright, 1910, by W. J, Watt Co,) i int ike Malling. alist irglar, ng) ples out bbe ¢ captain who ? and fallen in jolly, but hae enter the Mo- i en at Ae fet ht tl Sie erp it mie. can Rei h, oot is va et ony her father 4 “ horn. till ae ee on to exes. hint Ftscnern ey a ty CHAPTER IX. (Oontinned.) Jimmy Hearse News. DU'RE engaged to her?” Another sombre nod. “I don’t believe it,” said Jimmy, “Y wish I didn't,” said his Lordship wistfully, ignoring the alight rudeness’of the remark. “But, worse luck, it’s true.” For the first time since tho dis- closure of the name Jimmy's atten- tlom was directed to the remarkable {demeanor of his successful riva “You don't seem over-pleased,” he wald. “Pleased! Have a fiver each way on ‘nleqasd’’ No, I'm not exactly feaping with joy.” 4 sue, the devil {s it all about? What do you mean? What's the idea? If you don't want to marry Mise McEqchern, why did you pro- ‘pose to her Lord Dreever clored his eyes. “Dear old boy, don't! It's my uncle.” “Your uncle?" “Didn't t explain It all to you—about him wanting me to marry? You know! | toia the whue thing, or I meant to. Im in love with Katie, Dian’t 1 tell you about Katie’ I meunt to do that tuo. 1 love her, ‘she loves me. she is the girl you saw me with one night dinner, e "t marry because we're dead brok ‘Wo you mean to say"—— He stopped. It was a profanation to put the thing into words. What, old man?” Jimmy gulped. “Do you menn to say you wait to Ymerry Miss McHuchern simply be- Cause she has money?" he said. It was not the first time that he had heard of a case of @ British peer marrying for such a reason, but it fas the first time that the thing had Yiitea him with horror. In some cir- cumstances, things come home more forcibly to us. “Ite not me, old man,” murmured Tordshi| it's my uncio.” Meyour uncle! Jiminy clenched his hands, despairingly. “Do you mean say that you jet your uncle order ws about in a thing like this? Do you mean to say you're such a—such f&—such a gelatine — backboneless worm"—— “Old man! I say!" protested his jerdship, wounded, enya all you ‘. wretched knock- iefieed skunk, only I don't want to be fuleome, 1 pate flattering a man to Dreever, deeply pained, half from hia seat, “Don't get up,” urged Jimmy, emoothly. “L couun't trust myseit. His lordsbip suvsided hasty. He was feeling alarmed. He had never this side of Jimmy's character. At firat, he had been merely ag- Bfleved and uisappuntea ou expected sympathy. Now, the mat- ter had become serious. Jimmy was Ing the room line a youd seit ungry tiger. At present, It was true, there was a Dilliard-table be- * tween them; but his lordship feit that he could have done with good, Pet bars. He nestled in his seat with the earnest concentration of 4 ur ton a rock. It would be deuced form, of course, for Jimmy to assault bis host, but could Jimmy be trusted to remember the niceties of tte? ong Why the devil she accepted you, I id Jimmy half to him- "t think,’ oat, stoppin, uddenly, and glaring This omg the table. “Ton felt relieved was not polite, perhaps, but at least it was not violeut. “That's what beats mo, too, old Man," he said. “Between you an? tt’ jolly rum business, This att noon” —— at about his afternoon?” ‘Why, she wouldn't have me at any ked her this afternoon?” ~ "y nd it was all right then @he refused me like a bird. Wouldn't hear of {t. Came damn near laughing im my face. And then, to-night,” he went on, his voice squeak, at the thought of his wrongs, “my uncle sends for mo, and says she's changed her mind ana is walting for me in the dining room. I go there, and she tells me in about three words that sho's been thinking it over and that the whole fearful thint is om again, T Jolly rough on a Sap. I felt uch, frightful ass, you know. T n't kn. v what to do, whether to tt sald ‘Right ho!’ or something— hed if I know just what I did say and legged it. It's a jolly rum busi. ness, rf the ‘hole thing. It isn't as if could see that Shr doosn't care a , ie my Ballets ald man,” said solemnly, “that she's Paw badgered into It. t belleve my been at her.” hed shortly, : dear man, you seem to think pet od uncle's persuasive influence is } I guess it’s confined to I believe that’ pe The Intrusion of Jimmy A Naw Yorker's Odd Exploits in the Upper and Under Worlds By P. G. Wodehouse (Author of “The Little Nugget,” 6c.) companio ona bi Ml pocket, The Evening World Daily Magazine, Thursday, October 15, 1914 -. * “Why say eee There doesn’t seem to be much nm He poured some brahdy into glass, anc added a little sod “You take it pretty stiff,” o! jordship, wit touch of envy. ‘On ovcal i id Jim. empty- ing the glass, CHAPTER X. The Lochinvar Method. 8 Jimmy sat smoking a last | cigarette in his bedroum |} before going to bed that night, Bpike Mullins came in, “Well, Spike?” he said. He was not too pleased at the in-! terruption, He was thinking, and he wanted to be alone. Something appeared to have dis- turbed Spike, His bearing was ex- cited. “Say, boss! Guess what. You know dat guy dat come dis afternoon—de guy from de villag came wit’ man McBachern?” jer?’ said Jimmy. “What about him? ‘There had been an addition to the guests at the castle that afternoon. Mr. McEachern, walking in the lage, had happened upon an old New York acquaintance of his, who, tour- ing England, had reached Dreever and was anxious to see the historic castle. Mr, McKachern had brought him thither, introduced bim to sir Thomas, and now Mr. Samuel Galer Was occupying @ room on the same floor as Jimmy’ He had appeared at dinner that night, a short, wooden- faced man. Jimmy had paid little at-| tention to the newe ‘ “Dats right. A fly cop,” “What makes you think that?" “ink! Why, I can tell dem by doir! eyes ‘an deir fect, an’ de whole of dem. L could pick out a fly cop from @ bunch of @ tousand. He's a sure ‘nough asleut’ all right, all righ I seen nim rubberin’ at youse, boss.” “At me! Why at me? Why, of course. 1 eee now. Our friend Mc- ba. cern has ot nim in to spy on us at's right, boss. { course, you may be mistake; jot me, boss. An’, say, he al de only on “What, more detectives? have to put _up ‘House Full’ this rate. Who's the other be 's down in de solvant: "t They'll boards at ty curves, He's a He's vally to Sir ‘Tummas, @ mug is, But he aint no vally, He's come to see no one don’t get busy wit' de jools, Bay, what do youse t'lnk of dem jools, sleut’ aw. right. A hundred t’ou- sand plunne dey set him back. Dey're de limit, ain't dey? Say, won't yout really 2"—— “Syike! I'm surprised ut you! Do you know, you're getting a regular Mephistopheles, Spike? Suppose [ hadn't an iron will, what Kd hap- 2 You really uiust t your cts of conversation more care You're bad company for the Spike shuffled despondenty. “But, boss Jimmy shook his head, “It can't be done, my lad.” “isut It can, bonu,” protested Spike. It's dead easy. I've been up to de ‘oom, an’ I seen de box what de fools in kept in. Vi de softest ever! We could get dem ns easy as pullin’ de plug out of a bottle, Why, say, dere's never been auch a poa ft place for gittin’ hold of a dis hou Dat’a right, bi look what 1 got dis afternoon, jui snoopin’ around an’ not really tryin’ to git busy wt WIl, It was just lyin’ about.’ Ho plunged his hand into his and drew it out again. As he unclosed his fingers, Jimmy caught the gieum of precious stoner “What the—!" he gasped, Spike was looking at the treasure trove with an air of affectionate pro- prietorship, ‘Where on earth did you get thowe?” d Jimmy. ‘Out of one of de room: Dey be- longed to one of de loidie It was de easiest old t'ing ever, boss. I just went in wien dere was nobody around, an’ dere dey was on de toible, I never butted Into anyt'ln’ go soft.” “Spike!” es, boss?” o you remember the room you took them from?" “Sure, It was de folet on de—" “Then, Just listen to me for a mo- ment, my bright bo: When we're at breakfast to-morrow, you want to so to that room and put those things back- of them, mind you—just where you found them, Do you un- derstand?" Spike's Jaw had fallen, “Put dem back, boss!" he faltered. oF one of them." ike, plaintively, mber. Lvery single one of them, just where it belongs, Bee?” “Very well, boss." The dejection in his voice would ave moved the asternest to pity. Gloom had enveloped Spike's spirit, The sunlight had gone out of his lif It had also gone out of the lives of 1 good many other people at the cas- Ue. This was mainly due to the growing hadow of the day of the theatricals, For pure discomfort there are few things ia the world that can compete with the final rehearsals of an am: teur theatrical performance at count puse, Every day the al mosphere becomes more heavily charged with restlessness and de- pression, The producer of the plege, eapec- lally if he be also the author of it, d velops a sort of intermittent insanity, 3 at his mustach his hair, if be mutters to himself. He gives vent to occasional despairing crt The soothing suavity that marked his de- meanor in the earlier rehearsals di He no longer says with a appears, winning smile, “Rplendid, old man, spenala Coulin't be better, But I think we'll take that over just once instead, be Tolls he eyes, and 5 ani ‘we might just ae well cut out the show altog What's that? No, it won't be ali r on the night! Now, then, once more; ~ do pull yourselves together this ime.” After this, the scene is sulkily re- sumed; and the conversation, when the parties concerned meet subse- quently, is cold and strained. Matters had reached this stage at the castle, Evi ody was thorough- ly tired of the piece, and, but for the thought of the disappointment which (presumably) would rack the neigh- boring nobility and gentry if It wero not to be produced, would have re- signed their places without a twinge of regret. ple who had scheme to get the best and longest parts were wishing now that they had been con- tent with “First Footman,” or “Giles, a villager.” “Til never run an amateur show again as long as I live,” confided Charteris to Jimmy almost tearfully, “It's not good enough. Most of them aren't word-perfect yet." “It'll be all ri “Oh, don't say the night.” “L wasn't going to,” said Jimmy, “I was going to say it'll be all right after the night. People will soon for- get how badly the thing went.” “You're a nice, man, aren't you?” said Chart igh it'll be all right on “Why wort; said Jimmy. go on Iike this, It'll be Westminster Abbey for 5 In your prime, You'll be getting brain fever.” Jimmy himself was ona of*the few who were feeling reasonably cheer- ful. He was deriving a keen amuse- ment at present from the manoeuvres of Mr. Samuel Galer of New York. This lynx-eyed man, having been in- structed by Mr. McEachern to watch Jimmy, was doing #0 with a thor- oughness that would have roused the susplelons of a habe. If Jimmy went to the billiard room after dinner, Mr, Galer was there to keop him com- pany. If, during the course of the day, he had occasion to fetch a hand- kerehlef or a cigarette case from his bedroom, he was sure, on emeryin: to stumble upon Mr. Galer in the cor. ridor. The employees of Dodaon's Private Inquiry Agency believed in earning their salaries. Occasionally, after these encoun- ters, Jimmy would come tpon Sir Thomas Blunt's valet, the other man in whom Spike's trained eye had dis- cerned the distinguishing marks of the sleuth. He was usually somes where round the corner at those mo- ments, and, when collided with, apologized with great politeness. Jimmy decided that he must have come under suspicion in this case vieartously, through Spike, Spike in the servants’ hall would, of course, stand out conapleuously enough to catch the eye of a detective on the lookout for sin among the servants; and he himself, as Spike's employer, had been marked down as @ possible confederate. It tickled him to think that both these giant brains should be so wreatly exercised on his secount. He had been watohing lly close- ly during these days, So far, no nouncement of the engagement had been mada, It struck him that pos- sibly it was being reserved for public mention on the night of the theatri- cals, The whole county would be at the castle then. There could be no more fitting moment. He sounded Lord Dreever, ard the latter said moodily that he was probably right. “There's golpg to be a dance of sorts after the show,” he said, ‘and it'll be done then, I suppose, No get- ting out of it after that. It'll be ail over the county. Trust my uncle for that, He'll get on a table, and shout \t, shouldn't wonder. And it'll be in the Moraing Post next day, and Katle'll ree it! Only two days more, oh, lordt" Only two days! Like the battle of Waterloo, it was going to be a close run affair. More thi er now, he realised how much Molly meant to him, and there were moments when it ed to him that she, too, had in to understand, That nirht on the’ terrace seemed som ‘:.v t 6 changea their reiationship, —_ tle thought he had got closer to her. They were in touch. Now, he noticed @ constraint in her manner, @ curious shyness. There was a burrier between them, but it was not the old barrier, He had ceased to be one of a crowd. But it was a race against time. The first day slipped by, a blank, and the second, till now it was but a matter of aours, The last afternoon had come. Not even Mr, Samuel Galer of Dod- son's Private Inquiry Agency could h unflagging watch during those hour: hoon, and tie memvers of the com- pany, in various stages of Lervous collapse, strayed distractedly about the grounds, [First one, then another, would selze upon Molly, while Jimmy, watching from afar, cursed their per- tinacity. At Inst she wandered eff alone, and Jimmy, quitting bis ambush, fol- lowed. She walked in the direction of the lake. It had been a terribly hot, op- pressive afternoon, There was thun- dev in the air. Through the trees the lake glittered Invitingly. She was standing at the water's edge when Jiminy came up. Her back was turned. She was rocking with her foot a Canadian canoe that lay alongside the bank. She started as he spoke, His feet on the soft turf had made no suund, “Can I take you out on the lake?” he sald. She did not answer for a moment. She was plainly confused. “I'm sorry,” she said, ing for Lord Dree Jimmy saw that she was nervous, ‘i—I'm walt- There was tension in the air, She was looking away from him, out across the lake, and her face was Aushed. pn’t yo he said. she said again, Jimmy lvoked over nis shoulder, Down the lower terrace was ap- Proaching the long form of his lord- ship, He walked with pensive jerki- ness, not 94 one hurrying to a wel- come tryst. As Jimmy looked he van- ished behind the great clump of lau- rela that stood on the lowest terrace, In another minute he would reap- pear round them, Gently, it with extreme despatch, Jimmy @ hand on either side of Molly's watst. TI: next moment he had swung her off her feet and lowered her carefully to the cushions In the bow of the canoe. Then, jumping in himself with a force that made gthe boat rock, he loorened the mooMne rope, seized the paddle and pushed off. CHAPTER X1. On the Lake. IN making love, as in every other branch of life, con- sistency is the quality most m sorry, to be almed at, To hede is fatal, A man must choose the line of action that he judges to be best sulted to his tem- Perament and hold to it without de- viation, If Lochinvar snatches the maiden up on his saddle-bow he must continue tn that vein, He must not fancy that, having accomplished the feat, he can resume the episode on lines of devotional humility, Prehia- torle man, who conducted his court- ship with @ club, never fell into the error of apologising when his bride complained of headache, Jimmy did not apologize. The ided did not enter his mind, He was feei- ing prehistoric, His heart was beat- in, in @ whirl, but the one definite thought that came to him during the first few seconds of the journey was that he ought to have done this earlier, This was the right way. lok her up and carry her off, and leave uncles and fathers and butter- hatred peers of the realm to lowk Pitge themselves, This wae the wav. ‘ ‘ Alone together in their own little world of water, with nobody to inter- rupt and nobody to overhear! He should have done it before, had wasted precious, golden ti hanging about whi! tile men chat tered to her of things that could not possibly be of interest. But he had done the right thing at last. He had got her, She must listen to him now, She could not help list@ing, They were the only inhabitants of this new world, He looked back over his shoulder at the world they had left, The last of the Dreevers had rounded the clump of laurels, and was standing at the edo of the water, gaging perplex- edly after the retreating cange, He “These poets put a thing very neat- ly saometines,” said Jimmy reflective. ly, as he dur the paddle into the “The man Who sald, ‘Distance lends enchantment to the view,’ for instance, Dreever looks quite’ nice when you see him aa far away as this, with a good strip of water in betwee: Molly boat it feasting spectacle “Why did you do it? she said, in a low voice. Jimmy shipped the paddle, and al- lowed the canoe to drift, The ripple of the water against the prow sound- ed clear and thin in the stillness, The world acemed asleep, ‘The wun blazed down, turning the water to flame, The air was hol, with the damp electrical heat that ‘heralds a thunderstorm, Molly's face lookea smull and cool in the shade of her b~ hat, Jimmy, as he watched her, felt that he hed done well. This was, indeod, the way. "Why did you do it?" shoe wald again "I had to." be ko mo back." gazing over the side of the the lake, abstained from her eyes on the picturesque 0. He took up the paddle, and placed @ broader strip of water between the two worlds, then paused once more. “LT have something to say to you first,” he said, did not answer, He looked over his shoulder again. His lordship had disappeared. “Do you mind {f I smoke?" Sho nodded. He filled Ys pipe care- fully, and lighted It. The smoke moved sluggishly uy through the atil) air, There was @ long silence. A fish jumped close by, falling back In a shower of al'ver drops. Molly started at the sound, and haif-turned “That was a fish,” she sald, as @ child might have done. Jimmy knocked the ashes out of his pipe. “What made you do !t?" he asked abruptly, echoing her own question, She drew her fingers slowly through the wate thout speaking. “You know what I mean, told mi She looked up with a flash of spirit, wh led a Dreever Stopped, and a) “But T wish you would tel 1 mea. She hung her head. Jimmy bent forwar: hand and touched her he sald for musth 86 sald miserably. “You shan't. It's wicked.” “T must. It's no good talking about it. ft's tov ate.” “It's not. You must break it off to-day.” She shook her head stil! dabbled mechanically in the water, The sun wan hidden now be- hind a gray vell, which deonanad Into a sullen black over the hill behind the castle, The heat had grown more oppressive, with a threat of coming storm. “What made you do it?” he asked again, “Don'' Please!" He had a momentary glimpse of her face. There were tears in her eyes. At the sight his self-control Don’ don't! ¥ “LT must, God's sake, Her fingers le talk about it © * © vw By Robert Minor what you are to me. Do you think T shall let_you"—— A low growl of thunder rumbled throu Ing of @ sleepy giant. cloud crept ih the stillness, Iike the mutter The black that had @ung over the hill had closer, The hexi was stifiing. In the middle of the lake, some fifty yards distant, lay the island, cool and mysterious tn the gathering darkne: Jimmy broke off and seized the paddle, On this side of the ‘sland was a boathouse, a little creek covered over With boards and capable of sheltering an ordinary rowboat, He ran the eanoe ip just as the storm began and turned hes broudside on, #0 that they could watch the rain, which was sweeping over the He slowly now. “I think I loved you from the first day 1 I lomt you by anoth lam think ake In sheets, began to speak again, more faw you on the ship. And then you. 1 found you again by @ and lost you again, [found r uriracie, but this time not going to tose you. Do you I'm going to stand by and you taken from me by-—by"—— fle can't. Molly, you can't love him, possible, wouldn't try to Vd wo away, took her han Tt tan't if 1 thought you did | wil your happiness. Hut you don't, You He's nothing. Molly!" The canve rocked as he leaned to» ward her, “Molly!” She sald timo wavering. them, thing guess Nagle jothing; but for the firat her eyes met his, clear and un- He could read fear im fear—not of himuelf, of some- Vague, nomething he could not at. But they shone with @ that conquered the fear aw the aun conquers fire; and he drew her to hi again, mound kissed her again and , murmuring incoherently, she wrenched hei t plun, n't,” she cried in @ choking L mustn't. Oh, 1 can’t!” stretched out a hand and clutched at the rail that'rin along the wall, The plunging ceased. He turned, she had hidden her face, and wus sobbing, quietly, with the forlorn hope: sHness Of & lost child, Ho made a movement toward het, but drow back. He felt dased, The rain thudded d splashed, on the wooden roof. A few drops trickled through @ crack in the boards. Ile (ook off hia coat and placed It gently over her shoulders, “Mo Ma Cy { don't understand ot He ally! looked up with wet Aly, dear, what tm It mustn't, “It Isn't right, mustn't, Jimmy,” moved cautiously forward, hotd- ing the rail, till he wae at her aide, and took her In his arma. “What is it, dear? She ing, "You you hin ike, him; Londo “No, no. y and simp! Tell me." clung to bim without speak- aren't worrying about him, bout Dreever? There's worry about. It'll be quite Til tel him, tf you yc n't care for . there's @ girl in not th He know and, bes on that t I's “What is it, dear? What's troubling you?" “Jimmy"—— Bho stopped He waited rest “Jimmy, my father wouldn't— father—father doesn't"— “Do Bhe exn't ke me nodded miserably. A great wave of relief swept over Jimm knew vast, Mendous cat asunder, aloud it, th over not } Eden y. He had tmagined—he bardly what he bad imagined; some insuperable obstacle; some tre- trophe, whirling them He coufi” have lmughed In his happiness. So, this was is was the cloud that brooded them--that Mr. MeEachern did Ike him! The angel, rey | with a flery sword, had chan, into a policeman with a truncheon, he eal “He must learn to love m snapped. “You sha'n't,” he (cried, “It's Mghtl: ghastly. I won't let you. You must he must know cou) understand now. Y: \ "iookea at him popelnesiy, He Mot see: he could not under- | closer to him, ¥ If all come rt strkgling ike some wild thing. $y . % iy Stand. And how could she tell bi Her fa‘ vor's word: 0. He war hi syme game.” He was being watched. But she loved him, she loved him! Oh, how could she make him ufder- stand? Sho clung to him, trembling. He became serious again. Dear, you mustn't worry,” he sald. “It can't be heiped. He'll come round, Once we're married”—— (3 On, t you understand? 1 couldn'ti” face whitened. He looked H do you mean to say. a#earched for a word concluded, “It must,” she whispered, A ovld hand clutched at bis heart. is world waa falling to pieces, crumbling under his eyes. “But—but you love me," he said, It was an if he were trying to "I-—don't eee. “You couldn't You're a man. You don't know. It’e so diff ent for @ mant ‘a brought up al ith the idea of leaving home. away naturally. “But, dear, you couldn't live at home all your life. Whoever you mar- ried" —— “But this’ would be different. Father would uever speak to me in, He would go right out of my Jimmy, | couldn't. A girl can’t t ty years of her life, Hike that. 1 shoul erable, Every day, a hundred little | things would remind me of him, and I shouldn't be strong enough to re- sist them. You don't know how fond he is of me, how good he has always Ever since [I can remember, we've been such friends. You've only seen the outside of him, and | know how different that is from what he All bis bre he has thought dreams of, years he haa been workin; Jimmy, you don't hat drawing her “lL can't remember my mother. She died when I was quite little, So, he and I have been the only onee—till you came. Memories of those early sort crowded her mind as she spoke, mak- Ralt: toraeth ught ge He trunted me, and I trusted him, dl we saw things through together. When | was ill, he used to sit up all night with me, night after night. ‘d only got @ little fever, real- , but 1 thought I was terribly bad I heard bim come In late, and called out to him, and he came straight in, and sat and held my hand ail throu the night; and it was only by a dent I found out later that it ha been raining and that he was soak: through, It might have kille i We werd partners, Jimmy, doar. [ couldn't do anything to hurt hi now, could? Jt wouldn't be aquare. Jimmy had turned away bis head, for feat his face might betray wha he Ho was in @ hell of unre lousy. He wanted he body and every word ngid bit like a raw wound. A moment before, and he had felt that she be. longed to him, Now, in the fret shock of reaction, he saw himself a stranger, an intruder, a trospasser on holy ground. She saw the movement, and In- tuition put her in touch with bis thought “No, no.” she cried; “no, Jimmy, not. that Their eyos met, and he was satis- fe ‘They nat thero allent. The rain had lessened Its force and was fallli in, a gentie shower. A strip o' wky, pale and watery, showed through the gray over the hills, On tho island clove bebind them a thrush had begun to sing. 1 “What are we to do?" she sald at ia. Tt will What can we do Nothing can © must wal! » Tt must, stop un now. Tho rain-had ceased. The blue had routed the gray and driven it from the sky, The aun, low down in t shone out bravely over the lake, The alr was cool and fresh. Jimmy's spirits rose with a bound, He accepted the omen, This was the world it fancted it. HM could alter that. be done was trivial. Ho wondered how he could ever have allowed it to weigh upon him, After a while he pushed the boat out of its shelter on to the glittering water and selaed the paddie, “We muat be getting back. m wonder what the time is. I wish we could stay out forever, But it must be late, Molly!” "You?" « “Whatever happens, you'll break off this engagement with Dreever? shall T tell him? 1 will tf you like.” “No, | wil, I'll write him a note if I don’t seo him before dinne: Jimmy paddied on a fow strokes. Us no good,” he said suddenly, “I can't keep it In, Molly, do you mind if ¢ sing a bar or two? I’ve got a beastly voice, but I'm feeling rather happy. I'M ptop as noon as 1 can." rained his voice discordantly. Covertly, from beneath the shade of her big hat, Molly watebed him with troubled eyes. The » sone down behind the hills, an . water had censed to litter. re Was a aiiggestion of chill in tho air. The great mass of the castle frowned down upon them, dark and fortidding in the dim Itght, She shivéred. CHAPTER XII. RD DREEVER wanted twenty pounda, Ite not only wanted It, byfjas needed tt. LL money. pounde he needed to pay @ gambling debt, And such @ debt vould not walt, That money would have to be paid, and on the morrow, A debt of honor was not @ thing to be trified with, \ 4 Next Week's Complete Novel in THE EVENING WORLD Ashton-Kirk, | Special Detective. By John T. This Book on the Stands Will Cost You $1 McIntyre 5. You Get it tor 6 Cents. But he felt quite safe, He knew he could get the money when he pleagedy It showed, he reflecte! philosoph! cally, how out of evil cometh His greater misfortune, the aga ment, would, as it were, neutralisg@ the less, for it was ridiculous to eups pore that Sir Thomas, having his ends accomplished, and being sumably in a spacious mood in camp sequence, would not be amenable @ request for a mere twenty poun He went on into the hall. He ‘tel® strong and capable. He was Spemy nie Dreever, the man of biood and {ron—the man with whom it wer best not to trifle, But it was really, come to think of It, uncommonly Jucky that he was engaged to Molly He recolled from the Idea of attempts ing, unfortified by that fact, to ex- tract twenty pounds from Sir Thomas aa for a card debt. : In the hall ho met Saunders. — ‘* “I have been looking for your lord= id the butler. Well, here 1 “Just so, your lordship. Miss Mo- Eachern entrusted me with thie note to deliver to you in the event of her hot being h'avle to see you before dinner personally, your lordship.” “Right ho! Thanks.” He started to go upatairs, oper the envelope as he went. What the girl be writing to him about Surely, she wasn't going to start sending him love letters or any of that frightful rot? Deuced dimioult it would be to play up to that sort of thing! He stopped on the first landing to read the note, and at the opening bis jaw fell, envelope fluttered to the ground. “Oh, my sainted clutching at th am in th soup! oe Jimmy, regarding his lathered in the glass as he dressed for that night, marvelied at the lence of thie best of alt eon worlds, No doubts disturbed the relations betwesn Mr. and himsel to his prospects, he did not believe, For the moment he declined to cop= sider the existence of the ex-conste~ ble at all. In @ world that Molly there was no room for people. They were not in the piott They did not exiat. ue contentedly To him, musiny there entered, 4 him, the goodness of I! the furtive manner habitual to thas unreclaimed buccaneer, Spike Mullisa. It may have been that Jimmy rea@ his own satisfaction and happiness into the faces of others, but it cere tainly seemed to him that there wag & sort of restrained Joyousness about Spike's demeanor, The Bowery’g boy's shufties on the carpet were al- most a dance. His face seemed to slow beneath his crimson hair. fue “Well,” sald Jimmy, “and how the world with young Lord Fj lina? Spike, have you ever best man?” “What's dat, boas?” “Best man at a wedding. Chap whe stands by the bridegroom with @ hand on the scruff of his neck to see he goes through with it. Fel who looka after everything, crowds the money on to the Ininister at end of the ceremony, and then goes off and marries the first bridesmatd and lives happily ever after.” Spike shook hie head. ain't got no use for gittin’ mar. ried, boss.” “Spike, the misogynist! You Spike. Some day, love will your heart, and you'll start writ! we not dat kind of mu protested the Howery boy. got no use fer goils, L's a sam This was rank heresy, Jimm: down the razor from motives o = dence, and B hyiy 4 i. Spike's reprehensible darkness. , “Bplke, yo an ase,’ be sata. “You don't knew anything about it. If you had any sense at all, you'd understand that the only thing -wortt, doing in life is to get married. bone-headed bachelurs make me Think what it would mean to yeu. having a wife. Think of going out on a cold winter's night to crack @ cette) knowing that there would be @ cup of hot soup waiting for you when you 1 got back, and your slippers all wary ed and comfortable. and then shed wit on Your knee, and you'd tell her how you shot the policeman, you'd examine the swag together—! “Why, I can't imagine anything cozler, Perhaps there would iit. je Spikes running about the house, Can't you see them Jumping with Jo: a8 you slid in through the windot, and told the great news? ‘Fahsers killed @ pleeceman!’ cry the tiny, eager volees, Candy In served oft all round in honor of the event. 2 den-hatred litte Jimmy Mullins, my Kod-son, geta a dime for havi thrown @ stone @ plain-clothes dé tective that afternoon, All ts joy and wholasome revelry. Take my word for it, Spike, there's nothing like do- meaticity, a “Dore was a goll once,” gata Spike meditatively, “Only I was never a cop.” Jimmy Inspected Spike gravely. “Spike,” he sald, “there's somothing on your mind, You're trying to say something, Whats it? Out with it? Spike's excitement vented itself tn rush of wards, her steady, She married “Geo, boas! There's bin doin’s to night for fair, Me coco's still Durein Sure Min, \chy, gay, when I wat to Sir Tummas’ dreasin’ room die wife ternoon What! “” “surest t'lng you know, Just before de storm come on, when it was all as dark as could be, Well, I was"-—- Jimmy interrupted, “In Sir Thomas's dreasing-repm| What thi ‘ Spike looked somewhat om! He grinned apologetically, and ahi Nis foet, “I've got dem, boss!" he said, with @ emirk, i “Got them? Got what?" “Dege,” Apike ys ry andy J