The evening world. Newspaper, July 7, 1915, Page 13

‘The Evening V World Daily Magazine, Wednesda (Copyright, 1915, by Mary Roberta Binebart,) SYNOPSI8 OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS, Hilaty Kingston is the jeader of a gang of daring And brilliant crooks, whose thefts have won them enormous wealth and whore leader's geniue bas saved them from detection, Hilary lives in « fashionable suburb, with his only daughter, Elinor, ‘The girl hae been brought up an atest and {1 the belief that her father Preving om society, Huff, one of Hi Hen tenants, is in lore with her, Boroday, another of the gang, has # fatherly affection for her and exerts a sort of guardianship over the lonely irl, Ward, adsistant rector of the local church, is strongly qttracted by Elinor as is ‘Huff regards their acquaintance with Hilary te accidentally killed in Bitnor lives The CHAPTER IV. (Continued. }O Elinor had her way. Saturday djnners were re- } sumed early in September, s Boroday coming with in- finite caution from his cheap boarding house in the South Side, Talbot and Lethbridge from the bachelor apartment they rented to- gether. Walter Huff was late. “I had to be careful,” he told Bor- oday, aside, “They've got wind of something, I don’t know what. My room was searched to-day.” Boroday swore through his beard. “Then why did you come here?” he demanded, Young Huff laughed, glanced at Elinor, and back impu- dently at the Russian. “You know why I came,” he said, in high good humor, “But I was care- ful. It’s all right.” Old Hilary's chair had been placed by Elinor’a order, She had borne up well the last month, was rather more slender, certainly more appeal- ing. The quality of wistfulness was more apparent than ever around her mouth. Huff, sitting across, hardly took his eyes from her. He was young, and women had had no place until now in his active, unscrupulous life, But Elinor held him in the palm of her small hand, They missed old Hilary, his satur- nine humor, his beetling gray brows. And inaction was telling on them. They were growing restive. Boroday, advising caution in view of what he knew, felt the disaffection among the younger men It was Lethbridge who, waiting un- til the servants had withdrawn, rose and glanced around the table. “It seems to me,” he began, “that we have a lot to decide to-night I’ve been thinking about it ever since —tor some time, The first thing, of course, is whether we are going to hang together or not. Talbot had rather a weird sense that the of humor. He suggested 8 word “hang” be changed to “remain. “We've been doing well. We'll do all right again, too, as soon as this thing blows over. It was unlucky, but we've been pretty fortunate, Now we can do one of two things. For Elinor's sake, | suggest the first.”” “and that is"—— Blinor’s voice was unsteady. “gend Boroday to Paris to dispose of your jewels. Then get a conserva. tive lawyer to invest the money.” “And after tha “Forget you ever knew any of us.” Huff, across the table from her, went white, but said nothing. “You said there was an altern- ative?” Elinor was white, was profoundly still. “To keep on as we are at present, with you, Elinor, acting in your father's stead, receiving and trans- mitting messages, and ~keeping the vault in charge.’ Boroday was on his feet in a mo- ment, protesting. He would take the jewels and send them abroad. It was! risky, but it could be done. But this outrageous arrangement that had been suggest “What we are, we are by choice,” he finished. “You have never had a choice, and now it is given to you, For God's sake, child, go away now, while you may." Elinot reply, when it came, was unanswerable. “Where could I go? I know tn all the world only you four, and old Henriette, and a governess of mine who has gone into a convent in I shall sty bere with you The room too, So it was settled. ‘That was an eventful evening, with Elinor, misty-eyed, moving into her father’s chair at the table, and the band swearing the simple oath of al- legiance which had held them to- gether, And when they had moved from the dining-room Walter Huft, following Elinor out onto the ter- race, told her he 1oved her, The starlight above, and those The Girl Who Had No God ROBERTS RINEHART | 4 The Newest | SWEETHEART PRIMEVAL ial = The Creator of the “TARZAN” Stories Is at His Very Best in This New Serial. aaeneener rocco A Romance er ineene® “Conscience” and Love, OLLIE nearer stars that outlined the streets below, threw a soft radiance over her, She was dressed in white; old Hilary disliked mourning garments. Elinor was looking down into the vil- lage. The green spire of St. Jude's towered above the town. Huff, young and ardent, thrilled to the girl's pres- ence close beside him. “You are very aloof to-night,” he said. She smiled up at him. ing. “Ot what?” “Oh, of different things--of the peo- ple down there in their houses—their lives, the things they believe; we shink they are narrow, but I wonder, after all, if you and I, who beileve none of those things, are not the nar- row ones.” Huff was not subtis. Possitiy he would not have understood, had not the Saint Jude's chimes rung just then. “Symbols like that seem to mean #0 much to them,” said Elinor, and fell silent. In the warm silence Huff felt for and found her hand. “All this time, when I you,” he said unateadily, “I've been thinking of you here alone, and in trouble. Sometimes [I thought I couldn't stand it, that I'd have to come out and see you, if only for five minutes.” “I have always been more or less lonely. Sometimes I think if I had been sent away to school, had known other girls, tt would have been better. I have never had any friends—except you, and the others.” Huff released her hand and faced her. “I don't want to be your frien Elinor. I want to be much more.” She was rather shocked at first. She stood, lovk:ing up at him, her lips slightly parted. You—you want"—— “I love you. I want you ‘to marry idn't see me, dear.”* There was no doubt of the boy's sincerity. It rang true. He, stood with his arms out, and after a mo- ment she went into them. Except for the father who was gone, this was the first love that had come into her life. She took It hungrily. In the starlight she held up her lips like a child for his kiss. The police were still active. So in- sistent was Boroday on caution that all of September went by without so much as a plan of campaign. Talbot played golf and established friendly relations that might be invaluable later, Huff, under protest, retained the taxicab work. “Iv a dog's life,” he said. “They're not after me now. Give me something else to do, or else let me take @ va- cation.” But they kept him at work Huff feli ingo the way of s¢ Elinor once or twice a week. Tal took him out, picking him up on the edge of town after dusk, on his way in his car to a dance or dinner at the country club, and taking him back the same way. And the boy's infatuation for Elinor grew and thrived on those late sum- mer meetings. Her sweetness and elusiveness maddened him. Some- times he thought her never so far from him as when she was in his arma. “Do you love me?” mand hoarsely. “I think #0. to love m And he had to be content with this On the evenings when she was alone Elinor sat in her arbor and watched the road up the hill. Ward had called twice, and each time she had been out on the long rambles she took almost dally, After his second visit, HOW TO APPLY he would de- I know I want you W you are required to apply ‘Tn writing, compose iy, with proper speling Waste no words. State briefl clearly the facts desired. Make it businesslike, Don't .) your lelter neatly and careful and grammar praise yourself too extravagantly Not that surely. I was only think. ™ a A COMPLETE NOVEL EACH WEEK IN THE EVENING WORLD | y'tc'vcrs's she stayed in the house for days, 4x- pecting him. But he did not come again. She was not tn love with Ward, just as ehe was not in love with Wal- ter Huff. But the clergyman repre- sented, in her strange and lonely life, something new and different. He typified all that she had never known. He was the priest, rather than the man to her at first. The time was coming when he would be man only, and after that—— Late in September Boroday was arrested. The arrest came as a shock to the band. As a matter of fact the police could prove nothing, but the Chief had a long talk with the Rus- It was the Agrarian affair, of course. The Chief had recognised him. But so firmly had old Hilary's respectability been rooted in the pub- lic mind that the Chief connected Boroday only casually with him, I cannot prove he said, “but you know also perfectly well that I can to the tune of about ten fectly correct in both in- aid Boroaay. “You cannot prove anything and you can send me up. What ts it you want?’ “I want the members of that band of yours,” said the Chief. “And I want" your feadquarters. You people have been playing hell in this county long enough; the newspapers are laughing at us. Sooner or later, we'll get you and get you all, Make it sooner and we'll let you off easy.’ “How much time will you give me?" The Chief offered twenty-four hours and Boroday took it. At the end of that time he reported. “L guess I'll take what's coming to me,” he said. “You can fix it any vay you like. It was a bitter disappointment to the police. CHAPTER V. ORODAY had used his day's freedem to warn the band and to make plans for re- gaining his freedom, Of money heshad none. What he had made under old Hilary's lead- ership had gone back to Russia, dollar for dollar, He had financed part of the Kiev defense of the Jews, had saved Prince Ovarsky from Siberia." There were othe? things. Money would save Boroday. there was practically no money, By unanimous consent they kept the news of his arrest from Elinor, It was Talbot who planned the country club coup. The Russian was in Jail then, on a trumped, up ‘charge. Old Hilary dead and Boroday in jatl— there was no one to advise caution. “Boroday ii!" Elinor exciatmed. They were accounting for his absence from her Saturday night dinner. “Why, then he should be here, where he can be cared for." “We told him that." And Lethbridge Was always readiest with his tongue, “But he's not sick enough to need much, and he's deucedly disagreeable when he's laid up.” Elinor a little hurt In the arbor, after dinner, they planned the robbery. Where old Hilary would have taken a month to think and plan, they took minutes. ‘Thore was a ball at the club that night, the last of the waning country club season, The entrance to the grounds was a mile from the club house—two iron gates standing open between pillars, and dense shrubbery all about, Talbot would wreck his car there, driving into one of the gates, That would require each d parting car to slow to stop. The arrangement was that Talbot walk up to the club, and establish an alibi and his innocence by t phoning to @ city garage for help The rest was left to Huff and Leth- bridge. A quarter of a mile away across the golf links, they would have a car in which to make their get- away FOR A JOB down, probably Lethbridge wae only lukewarm. “We'll get @ lot of jewelry,” hé ob- Jected. “What we need is money.” But Talbot was sure the loot would Include money. It was rather cleverly planned. From the vault Huff brought up @ fine chain studded with spikes. Stretched across the road outside the entrance, it would mean that every car padsing over it would limp along on fiat tires, It meant time to the bandits. Huff and Lethbridge, who had left their car in a thicket over the hill, went first. Talbot followed soon, in “Good luck, boy: said Elinor in echo of her father, from her garden, and went back into the house to watoh the clock. At one, or a little sooner—the summer dances were early ones—she was to be in her garden again. The loot would be thrown over the wall. She was there much earlier, hands cold, lips shaking with nervougness. Always old Hilary had done these things, She was profoundly fright- ened. Ward, walking rapidly home from the club, saw her there, a little after midnight. There was a young moon, and at first he thought he must be mistaken, Then, when he was sure of her, he ran up the shallow steps. The gladyess that was over him rang out In his deep voile “Bo now I have your secret,” he said gayly. “Like all the other fairies you are only to be seen in the moon- light!” “In the daylight,” said Elinor, try- ing to smile, “I frequent the wood lands, and miss my most agreeable visitor—my only vieitor.” She cor- rected herself. Her hand was ice tn bis. “You are cold!” “Really, n There was a minute's pause. They had no common ground between them. Ward, who dreamed of her eyes, and took long walks up the hill in the mere hope of seeing her in her garden, found himself dumb, now that he stood before her, He had meant to be most impersonal, to run in, say a cheery “good night” to her, and be off. But face to face, with’ the dark house looming over them, he plunged inte the thing nearest his heart. “Are you still so—alone?” “There are the servants.” “I—1 think of you often. One of my windows faces this way, and I can see a light burning very late.” “I read at night. I do not sleep well, But you—you are up late also.” “An!” He bent a little toward her in Bis eagerness. “You know that? You know my window?" “Yes. I watch it very often.” It. was well for Walter Huff, crouched in the shrubbery at the country club, eyes glittering, auto- matic revolver in hand, that he did not hear the thrill in Ward's voice that night in Elinor’s garden, or her soft reply. Many things cried for utterance in Ward: his pitiful sense of the girl's loneliness, a yearning desire to com- fort her, to be near her—even more, that magte night, a mad longing to hold out his arms and coax her into them, as one might coax some shy creature of the woods. But Elinor was suddenly aloof and distant again. At any time now a car would come wildly down the hill, and toss at her feet its deflance of law and ownership. What had she and this man before her in common? The thrill was in his voice now, but how quickly it would turn to loath- ing when he knew! She put out her cold hand, and he took it. “I am going in now. Good night, and thank you for stopping.” Ward found himself dismissed, and, rather dazed, went down the steps to the road, But one thing he carried with him down the hill that night: “I watch your window very often.” The reverend Mr. Ward left bis ws ws light on all of that night, so fearful was he that she might look for it, and got find it. And while it burned, under the very shadow of Saint Jude's, once more the vault in the basement room at the Hall swung open to Elinore’s practised fingers. The village rang with the news of the outrage the next day. No one had been hurt, but jewels of large value had been taken. To Huff and the others the raid had been practically a fatiure, There had been less than @ thousand dollere in money—not enough to begin nego- tlations for Boroday’s freedom. It began to look as though the danger- ous business of selling some of Ell- nor's jewels would have to be re- sorted to. Lethbridge was willing to undertake it, trying London first and then Paris. Elinor offered all the diamonds. If she must keep a part, she would keep the pearls. Talbot sorted out the stones to be sold, but left them with her foi fety. She had never cared for het jewels. They were not half #0 lovely as her flowers—and she parted from them without a pang. But there was one pink pear-shaped pearl that had come in the night be- fore, that she would have rather liked to wear. On Monday afternoon Ward called on Elinor, The memory of that short meeting In the garden had been with him ever since. There was a new light in his eyes, but she greeted him demurely, although she flushed with pleasure. “Not in a woodland, for once,” she said. “And all my fairy-like at- tributes faded in the daylight!” “Isn't it rather rash?’ he asked gravely—“this risking the daylight?” “I am here because T hoped you would qpme to see me.” It was Ward's turn to flush. “You said you were lonely, I thought"— “I am alone, but not as lonely as you think. There is plenty to do. I have my garden, and I make up little bouquets for e school chil- dren. You see how they love them Some days I have a dozen clamoring in tha road under the arbor.” Ward was charmed. He had a quick vision of Elinor, eyes dancing and soft hair blowing, bending out of her arbor window and dropping ber quaint sweet-williams and mar- wuerites, mignonette and garden roses, down to the children. She led the way to the terrace, where Henriette was setting the tea- table. “Nevertheless,” Ward said sudden- ly, “I am not at all sure that J like your living here alone, It doesn't seem safe.” ‘Safe? “Perhaps I am unwise to alarm But this outrage at the country said Elinor, and bent toward you. club" “Ant him. “There is no longer any question that a band of desperadoes is terror- izing the country; an organized band of considerable intelligence. They get their information from the inside, outrage shows it. No one “And this country club affair?” asked Elinor, watching Ward In- tently. “An audaciou ce of work, Halt the women in thi vicinity suffered. Most of them are my parishioners.” “Anh!” breathed Elinor, “I ain worry. Ward shrugged his shoulders rue fully. “It means, I dare say, that the poor of the parish will get less than ever this year. Mrs. Bryant, for in- stance, who has always been gener- ous, lost a pearl necklace and a won- derful pear-shaped pink pearl.” “Ia she-—a wealthy woman?” “Very, I believe.” “Then is it such a terrible thing for her to lose the pearl? Perhaps these bandits, as you call them, think they could use these things bett than the people who owned them. —— Iustrated by —— wie JOHNSTONE Ward smiled. “I dare say we all think we could use the other fellow's Possessions better than he dons.” Elinor persisted, frowning a little “Things are so terribly mixed up,” she said. “If you could know the things I know”~—Ward looked faintly amused—"the people who are fighting for a principle, and have nothing to fight with, fighting for life sometimes! A good half of the world, you know, Just struggles along, and the other half is 60 amug, #0 satisfied; it''s horrible.” Mr. Ward stared at her. “How in the world do you come by such thoughts?” he demanded. “I've never known anything else; 1 Was brought up on the injustice of things. You have your poor here In the parish, but you see I was brought up with the poor of all the world. I am afraid I'm always for the under dog.” Rather startled was the Rev. Mr. Ward that summer afternoon on the terrace at the Hall, atartled.and pus- led. “Down In our hearts,” he said, ‘perhaps we are all of us for the un- der dog. But how does that excuse my bandits?” “This Mrs. Bryant—how much do you suppose you are going to lone for your poor by her loss?” “Not so much, but enotigh. She had promised a lot, of things, She called up thi morning to say that It was all off.” He started to say that all bets were off, but decided that It was unclerica! and changed it. “But I didn't come here to worry you about myself or the parish. T think you should not be here alone.” Elinor looked down over the vil- lage. “Then perhaps, after all, tt would be better if I married at once.” “Ab! You are to be married?” “Now that my father is gone,” said clinor wistfully, “it seems the best thing. And—I shguid like children, 1 have no friends, except perhaps you." Ward strove to keep hia votce steady, and matter-of-fact. “Marriage Is so serious—so vital a thing.” He was trying to be calm and judicial. But his voice sounded far off; his heart pounded in his ears. ‘To marry because one is alone, or needs friends—is a flimsy foundation to bulld on.” Once again Elinor surprised him. “There have heen few really great passions in the world,” she sald. “I could almost cougt them on my fin- gers. The rest of us seem to get along without.” “Perhaps there are more than we hear about. Every now and then, tn my work, I come across something so much greater than I had expected, self-sacrifice, love, charity, as to jus- tify my faith in mankind.” “Your faith! Elinor sald softly “That ts what I envy you—your faith Not only your faith in your kind, but “the other sort.” Faith, hope and charity—and the greatest of these is faith. Alas for old Hilary, who had not kept his! “I had @ governess once who had that sort of faith; it was a great com fort to her, But [ ait here on my hillside, and it seems to me that spread out at my feet Is all the in- Justic# and cruelty and hatred in the world, And your God allows it all. My father tried to belie tried hard, but he said that when he asked for bread they gave him a atone.” ‘Do you know who said that?” “My father,” said Elinor. Rather surprised, be let it go at that. CHAPTER VI. O great had the urgency of Boroday's position become that the band met at the Hail on Thursday of the week after the country club affair, Lethbridge was to get his in- structions; Talbot wished to discuss his prospect. After dinner, the night being warm, y. Jul ieee 1915 | Sweetheart ‘Primeval | By EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS, _Awthor of “TARZAN OF TH pe they had thotr coffee on the terrace. A summer storm had come up. All at once a Sash threatened Saint Jude's, Huff leaped to his feet. “I've got itt sald. “What is it None of the men knew. It wis, as ® matter of faat, the parish house. Lethbridge, however, knew its funo- tion, “Fine prospect that!” be drawled. “That's where the Sunday school ts held, and where they keep the plated knives and forks for the ehurclsup- Huff. burned They “What would they do if ft down?” were too unfamiliar with church affairs to hasard a guess. Elinor, who had been sitting silent, suddenly voiced an objection to Huff's unspoken plan. “There must be some other way,” she said. “The children—they have sewing classes and entertainments for the children there, It's the pariab house.” “If lghtning struc the parish house to-night"—— Huff eaid quite eagerly. “This is Thursday, By Sun- day morning they would be taking up a whacking big collection to rebuild it The idea had taken hold of his imagination, Even the suggestion that a large part of the offertory might be in checks mattered not. But Elinor was obdurate. “You can do it some place else,” she sald, “Not here. They struggled very hard to build the church and they need money now. Mr. Ward told me"-— Huff turned on her jealously “Ward—that's the preacher chap?” “He je the assistant rector,” Elinor replied with dignity, “He's been coming here, then?” rhen father died, d once to'warn me against all of Not that she had forgotten that fow minutes in the garden, under the moon; hut that had been an ac. eldent—hardly a call, Talbot chucki But Huff was thinking hard nor had been dif ferent lately, a little softer, Ward represented all that the men Elinor knew were not—law to their violence, order to their disord There was almost @ snarl in his voice, “He'd better stay down tn bis val with his old womer leave you alone. him.” “I'm not so sure of that,” replied quietly, ing. Huff burned the parish house the next night. He did it himself, with- out the assistance of the band. Into it he put not only the devilish tn, nuity of long experience, but his new hatred of Ward, Chureh property is always easy of access, It was the work of five min- utes to craw! through a basement window and of half an hour to make his preparations, He looked at his watch when he had finished. It was just midnight, In two hours, or before the fire began, ne would be back in the city, establish- ing bie alibi, s The fire whistles in the village wak- ened Elinor at something after 3 o'clock. All of her room was filled Klinor and left him star- with the red glare of the burning parish house, Old Henriette knocked at her door. “The church ts burning down !n the valley,” she called, “It's @ grand aight.” Blinor was throwing on her cloth- ing. She must see Ward. She would sel her pearls, She would build a new parish house, She said this over and ws rd A New EVENING WORLD SUCCESS MOVIE, lilustrating the RULES of the “ROAD TO SUCCESS” y.and | expected, try to be the first there. 1k you are required to apply in person keep the appointment on time. Where other applicants we are given before al applicants are seen, Present yourselt well finen clean, shoes poli Sometimes nyers, and Strang Story by hands well washed. Personal appearance counts for or against the applicant with the greai majority of clothes frushed, hair combed, face and speak ‘clearly and your eyes. the Man Who Wrote When received,” essary, rehearse wilat you have to say, $0 dhat you can: frankly. Don't mumble or hang your head or shift ‘sland on both feet, erect. If nee- to the point. Answer questions | you can't Wf sure of your ability to suil, speak but not boastfully. Don’t make in be excused, altel ke come Tee ‘o-morrow, “How lo Kee @ Job.” By Hazen Conklin tine re ow you know fulfil, Speak respectful TARZAN OF THE APES PES,” Bre. the big building back of the Deda; of the volunteer department small engine were directed saving the church. For a time seemed as if St. Jude's must go, Elinor watched the destruction. — seemed as though a band had itself around her chest. Then Ward. Ho was on the ridgepole of church roof with a hatchet, The. pole wae burning slowly. She eco him chopping. From that time she never took | eyes away from him, Other mem there. She did not see them. | saw only Ward battling on the pole, and high above on the the sturdy cross of hia faith, Once the men on the street turned the full foree of the him. Sho saw him reel, sew bisy cover himeelf by @ miracle, The fire giare died into the ‘Bt. Jude's was saved. Behind it park the charred skeleton of the ish house showed how young Huff had done his work. until Ward had descended safely the street did Biinor relax. Ward found her sitting in one the chairs along the pavement, hair still in ite long braid, her thrust into slippers, her eyes ved tr long staring. The fire engine was being away. The crowd had dispersed, Ward, blackened and was surveying the ruins with @ heart. He turned and saw the gil, Just at first he was not eure of He was always eccing her, Then he went toward her, hig out. 3) “You see,” he eaid, “what e® may bring forth!” And thea, | reckless child, here in slippers!’ saw you on the roof,” for, barely able to articulate, thought you had fallen.” “They nearly got Ite ead, ian't it?” He in the cool dawn, and surveyed ruin, i People meet great crises rt She tried to find pret a rere y aympathy to say, but what was! poor child? lips trembled. “TI should like t@ you with the new building.” “Fine!” Said Ward heartily, t to that before long.” ‘If you had falien"—— He was not listening. MR came her then how far apart they To her his falling would have an end of all things; to him it have meant the beginning of @ ful eternity, “If you wait a Ittle, I'll run and get my car and take you a” She sat down again, was glad to be with him « longer. Until recently the work of had alwaya seemed a vague tion. Now one of its results on her, And there were other in her mind—old Hilary, ~ revolt against law, aad in state before an altar erected God he had not recognised. ~ Ward, watching her windows thinking her the embodiment ef @ woman ehould be. Over her bitterness rose a hot of anger against Walter Hu@ | had forbidden this thing and he done it. Ward brought her @ cup of The night's devastation ly a black wound im the of the valley. GOING AWAY FOR THE SUMMER? Remember The Bye> ning World prints each week @ ees mnenapremteon tt St WILL BEGIN By Edgar Rice Burroughs, IN NEXT MONDAY'S EVENING WORLD. © READ IT! poral