The evening world. Newspaper, September 30, 1922, Page 14

CHARACTERS DETECTIVE COOPER, dutiful to the last degree, a former t suitor tor the hand of MOLLY CARTER, then a school teacher, who afterward mar- tied and bore children for THE EVENING WORLD, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 1922. N THE DRAMA. JIM CARTER, a ne’er-do-well, who has gone from bad to worse. HE small house was drafty. Air currente moved the curtains at the windows and bil- lowed the cheap rug on the floor. The baby had had the croup; it had given her an ex- cuse for being up, for the roaring Kitchen fire and ) lights. Karly in the evening she had fent over to the doctor's for medi- cine. The drug store was closed, and & curlous crowd had gathered in front ¢y, of it. The doctor dispensed his own prescriptions and had sent back with the bottle a kindly note: “Dear Molly: If we can do any- things, let us know. Would you like Ann to spend the night with you?’’ The eight-year-old girl had trotted back with a message that she thought she could manage nicely. The thought of Ann's prying eyes made her shudder. Then the quiet night had settled down on them. Some time after eleven, moving about the room, she had glanced out of the window and had seen glowing in the darkness a lighted cigar. She knew what {t meant. The house was being watched. By 1 o'clock the baby was breath- ing easier. A light snow was failing; frozen hard, it beat against the win- dowpanes with littl sharp crack- lings. In the next room the eight- year-old girl was sound asleep, one arm thrown up over her head. She went to the window and looket out again; the man across the street moved uneasily, hesitated, came over bout whose store a village tragedy than I do of my husband. evenings I liked to read. hand for readifg."”’ I alisms. In the Jim was no orner with a wheel off and the horse ne, There was every likelihood at Carter was in the hills. It was Heldeger, the hotel keeper, who had offered the reward. It was Heideger who with German shrewd- ness had suggested that the house be watched. But {t had been almost MRS. SHULTZ, a neighbor, who intrudes with the best inten- midnight when the detective took up blk tions. L HEIDEGER, the druggist, a has centred. his position across the street, and tn the tnterval—— ‘ OLLY CARTER went back to M the Kitchen and lighted the lamp. Thé room was stifling, but the fire in the range was low now. N her nine years tn the village she she put ina fresh piece of wood and had adopted many of its colloqut- set the kettle over it. Then, and not until then, did she go to the wall be- “From what I gather, because with side the range and put her lips to It. everybody talking at once I got kind of mixed up, it seems that the clerk from the drug store walked Heldeger's while Jim was there and asked the girl what she meant by fooling around with a married man. Then he told Jim to come home be cause his baby was sick. I'd sent over this afternoon for some tpecac. ‘That was the start. The trouble came “Then Jim came home,” the detec- tive prompted, ‘and after that what, Molly?" “Then Jim came hom peated in a aspiritiess voice, he was in trouble and he would havo to leave town. I gave him all the money I had and got his winter over- coat out. It smelled of moth balls, but there wasn't time to air it. Hoe put {t on and went.” The detective sniffed. “Moth balls! he said. “That's what I've been smelling. You must have spilled them around. There was no light in the room or he would have seen the woman grow paler and her hands clutch under her shaw. For a few moments there was silence in the parlor, save for the oreak of the self-rocker in which the detective gently swung himself. He yawned and stretched out his legs. You don't mind if I smoke in here “Jim smoked all over the house, Is the drug clerk badly hurt?’’ The creaking of the self-rocker into “Can you breathe?" she sald, cau- “COOPER WAS SOUND ASLEEP IN THE PARLOR, HIS HEAD and signalled her to raise the window. stopped. ‘The detective looked hard at DROPPED FORWARD ON HIS “How's the boy?” he called through the snow. She knew him then— his stogie. “Yes, he's pretty bad," he said after a moment. “He's—well, BREAST.” Cooper, one of the county detectives. Molly, you will learn it soon enough tiously. The reply came with aston- helped him. He hesitated awkwardly. better go to bed," “You'd he said at last. “There is no use of two of us staying up. I guess he won't come back while 1 am hanging around.” “No,” she replied wearily, ‘hs won't come back, Mr. Cooper. That was tho last word he said.’ e's dead."* down on one of the atiff plush chairs. Her jaws quivered ner- vously. She could scarcely articulate. “Then it’s murder?”’ “Tl am afraid so."" He made an eager attempt to com- fort her, bending forward. “After all," he said, ‘something of this sort was bound to come sobner or ishing clearness through the thin wall; even the sound of a body turn- ing in a narrow space: “Tam making another alr hole, Go out and see if any chips fall out."” “I can't, Jim. Chester Cooper is across the street. Did you hear what he said? They are both dead."’ ‘There was no reply to this. In the silence she could distinctly hear the The detective coughed, cleared his later. If he gets away, you are better bit as tt worked its way through the throat, spat. *“*We are all mighty sorry," he ob- served, using a carefully conversa- tional tone. ‘‘These—these things happen now and then.” there.”” without him. If he doesn’t’'\—— He threw out his hands, ‘He has never supported you. You have worked for him, haven't yeu, and borne his chil- dren? What have you had out of it? bad just now, but—they have been outer wall. “Jim, did you hear what he saif?"’ “I heard,’ he said sullenly. ‘The plan had been his. He had thought {t out when the horse had expect you are right cold Out ‘Try to be sensible. Things are pretty gone lame and he had had to work his roundabout way back home “Well, Iam not warm,” he replied pretty bad for you for the last eight through the commencing storm. But cheerfully. ‘I am burning up con- years, It's been drink and gambling the execution was hers, and the work siderable fuel, but it doesn’t seem to ang other women, and I am going to Was well done. heat much.” To show his ease he lighted a fresh stogie. flare showed his good-humored face, drawn and strained, in spite of his tone, “You wouldn't care to come in and warm your feet, would you?” He hesitated. The village street was quiet. Owing to its semi-isolated position he had commanded all ap- proaches to the house from his vant- age point across the street. Once in- side-——. But then, again—the hou: was small and lightly built; one could hear a footfall through it. A man ought to be able to thaw out now and then,” ‘I don't know but I will for a min- ute or two, Mrs. Carter," he assented, “if you'll unlock the doo! She came downstairs very soon, a shawl over her thin wrapper, and set @ match to the fuel ready laid in the parlor stove before she admitted him. She was @ pretty, slender woman still in her twenties—ar ultra-refined type for the village. Indeed, she had kknown better things than this thin clapboard house. She had taught school at the county seat before her marriage. The village had always re- sented her shy aloofness, the books on her parlor tabi It had’ predicted calamity from the marriage, and now it had come. ‘The detective eyed her with appre. ciation as he drew up his chair to the fire and warmed his numb fingers. “How did it happen, anyhow, Molly?” he said at last. He had known her for a long time, ‘‘Had he been drinking? 7 “tf don't exactly know myself." Her tone was dreary. ‘1 had asked him ask Jim not to do @ thing, he wants to right off. It was over a woman.” The detective was uncomfortable; he had known about the woman, of course. Molly Carter went to the foot of the stairs and listened; all was The baby still slept. So small was the house that she could hear his slight stertorous breathing. The base-burner was glowing now. She did not sit down again. She rolled her arms in her shaw! and stood look- ing at the blaze. was the girl at Heideger’s. He's hanging around her for quite a Jim was sociable, you know, and lately, with the baby and the haven't had much time for they'll say I the reputa- tell you the whole thing straight. tail an inch at a time. He shot the girl, too, They are both dead. The sheriff 1s out with a posse and there is a thousand dollars on his head.” HE rea) blow had fallen earlier, in that early dusk when Jim had come in, frantic, and told her part of the truth. She only winced now, wen‘ a little paler; with the in- creasing warmth of the room the odor of moth balls seemed to fill the house, She was dizzy, rather. Holding to the back of her chair, she listened for tho sick child above. He still slept. “Two of them!" she said at last. “The drug clerk was a nice young man. We used to talk about books and articles in the magazines. And now—oh, my God!" She pulled her- self together sharply. ‘It’s a pity of the girl, too,” she said, quietly. ‘She ‘was young and the men made a fool of her, I guess she wasn't really bad.” ‘The detective said nothing. He rose, hoisting himself slowly out of the low rocker, “Well, back to work!" he sald. “It's been mighty good pf you, Molly. I am warmed through no’ He yawned again. The sister hasn’t got out my flannels yet and I was nearly frozen. I wasn't expecting an all-night job.” He threw the end of his stogie into the stove, drew a revolver from his coat pocket and glanced at it, remem- bered suddenly that the action was hardly delicate, and thrust it back. The woman's mind was working again —& subconscious intelligence that not to”carry a gun—but when you evemned to have been scheming all the ¢, I was thinking,” she suggested, “that if I leave the latch off you could come in now and then and get warm. I can leave a cup of tea on the fender. Do you want milk in it?” “8 thank you, and no milk eaid, ‘You were always a thoughtful woman, Molly.” There was something almost wistful in his volco, Mindful of the sleeping baby, ho closed the oor cautiously behind him es he went out. Only the most casual search had been made of tho house. Jim Carter had been seen after the tragedy to go home and ehortly after to drive flerco- ly out of town in his buckboard ‘wagon headed for the mountains. No one tn the vill had tried to stop The posse had found the buckboard eight miles away at 9 o'clock that my children: night, the wagon wedged ine fence = “Een | Beside the range there had been a The match There ts no use cutting off a dog's Small unlighted closet, with a flat wooden door that fitted close without aframe. Long ago the door had been papered to match the kitchen, It had been the work of only a few moments to take off the lock. After that he had gone inside and drawn the door to behind him, shutting out from her sight, to her relief, his shaking hands and death-colored face, It was done and the paste almost dry before the sheriff's officer had made his cursory search. The child upstairs had been coughing hoarsely all the time. The little girl was with him, locked in, Half distracted, she had papered anew from the ceiling to the floor over the little door and built @ fire in the range to dry the paste. In the lamp- light the unfaded strips did not show against the old ones, Daylight would reveal them cruelly, If she could only keep the neighbors out! They knew the kitchen. Even at that she had gained a night. She made the tea, crossing and re- crossing the little room cautiously. When she came back from placing the cup on the fender of the parlor stove, the querulous voice was speak- ing from the other side of the par- tition. “What the devil do you mean ‘by bringing him tn here, anyhow?" “I thought it looked as if I hadn't anything to hide, Jim. He'll never think you are here, now I have left the latch off, so he can go in and out when he like: “Well, you'd better see about those chips. Wait until he comes in the next time and then slip out the back door “The snow will cover them. Jim, ere’s a thousand dollars on youl"* “Well, why don't you sell me out? T haven't been worth much to you Ilv- ing; a thousand dollars dead wouldn't be bad.” Her lip quivered, but she made no reply. That was what the detectivo had satd, “If I could get to the barn,” he grumbled, could work around be- hind Shultz’s fence and get to the railroad siding. Where ts that fool standing?" “He's just across. You can’t get to the barn, Jim, {a that eleeping stuff of yours bitter?" He gathered the meaning tn her tone and came close to the papered door, “Yes. Why?" “Would you notice it in a oup of ten” “Tt don't know. Not with sugor, maybe." “Have you got your knife?” 1 Adena os \A h, vent "I thought this way. Jim. comes in to get warm ané lightly. You'll be listening, will yor You won't go to sleep?” “God In heaven! do you think I am sleeping to-night?” en listen. You can le around the door from the cut the paper, can't you? back “Ho sald he might. What's that?” HE turned toward the rear of the S house; a pair of peering eycs wero staring at her from window, She turned her back them. “Jim! Almost in a whisper, but he heard. } as a 4 AU LL wll We Hide hi Wt “what? “Mrs, Shultz ts on the back porch.’’ When she looked again, the eyes had gone, and her neighbor was try- ing the door. With a despairing ges- ture Molly blew out the lamp und opened the door. “I've been in bed three hours,” explained the visitor, ‘‘and seems like T can’t sleep, with you so near and in trouble.” She pushed herself through the half-opened door into the room. “I'm sorry. I guess there's nothing anyone can do to help."* “I could sit here by the stove. I can't sleep anyhow, It's @ comfort when you're in trouble to have some one about to lean on." There was a sort of ghoulish curl- osity in her face, but there was real kindness also, She came close and lowered™her votce. “TI though you one a minute ago “I was speaking to the detective. He was in. I'm making him a cup cf tea."* I¢ the curiosity faded from Mrs. Shultz’s eyes, the kindness also left them. “Tea! I don't know that I'd care to make tea for a man who was wait- ing to hang Shultz or fill him full of lead!" She turned toward the door, hesitated. “I told Shultz I was going to stay. Hoe locked the door after me. You wouldn't mind, would you, if I lay on your parlor sofa?” Molly was a mild woman, but now she was desperate. “I'm afraid I would mind," 8 said quietly, “This is a very sad night for me. I should lke to be alone; absolutely alone,"* The kitchen door closed with a bang. She was alone—with tho papered door, She ran up the stairs and brought dewn the sleeping powders in their pasteboard box. One she emptied swiftly into the teacup on the parlor fender. The box she put into the stove and waited until it was entirely consumed. “T've fixed it, Jim. Listen for three raps. If he doesn’t drink it, or the powder doesn't work’*—— She broke down, There was only the sound of the bit from beyond, creaking as it turned. She opened the front door and called across in a low voice: “Ive left your tea for you and the door In unlocked. Be sure to close it tight when you go out." Then she went upstairs. The baby slept soundly. She put out the lamp and, drawing her shawl close about her, sat down in a chair before the fire. She thought of many things: of the days when Cooper, across the street, had wished to marry her; of her husband; of the blond girl at Heideger's; of the papered-up closed in the kitchen and the man in it drilling madly for breath, Maz ques toll on &@ small white ch s talking to some If he goes to sleep by the fire, I will tap thres times ? “He smelt the moth balls on your slin the aside do you know he ts comiug I think he will the to fect on the floor, That brought her back with a start. She made another painful excursion to the lower floor. overcoat,”’ she said to the wall, ‘I've got to hide it again, It's under the parlor sofa, Where'll I put it?" “Hide it behind the wood on the back porch." The voice was muffled. Jim, have you got enough air?" “Oh, Ul manage somehow." The kitchen clock struck, a thin metallic ring. It was @ very old clock, with flowers painted on the dial. It had marked in {ts time death and birth and giving in marriage, But never, perhaps, had it marked so tragic a night. WO o'clock. I She went back to her chatr and sat listening. The blizzard had come now. Wind whipped the window sash and roared about the house cor- ners. Beneath the tll-ftting frame a fine line of snow had sifted. She was painfully alive, with waiting. More than once she mistook a slara- ming shutter for the closing of tie front door, only to be disappointed. But {t came an hour later, when the clock with the painted dial was strik- ing three. The bait of the unlatched door and the glow of the base-burncr through the parlor window had caught their victim. Cooper had compromised with his conscience by making a careful round of the house. At one place ho stopped. In a lull of the wind, it seemed to him that there was a curl- ous grinding sound. Then the gale rose again, caught his hat and sent him running and cursing. When he came back the noise, whatever it was, had ceased. He stamped cautiously on the low porch and opened the door. A homely odor of tea met him, mixed with com- forting warmth. He turned up the lamp and took off his overcoat. It was his best overcoat and shabby at that. If he had any luck and the storm drove Carter back, he'd be able to buy a new one. He dusted tt off with his hands before hanging {t over the back of a chair to dry, On one shoulder a few grains of sawdust caught his attention. He looked at them with speculation, but without suspicion. He had a sense of humor. “Ha!” he said to himself. ‘Even the sky has gone !n for adulteration. Sawdust in the snow!"" He smiled at the conceit and sipped the tea. It was not very good, but it was hot. Overhead he could hear the slow rocking of @ chair. “Poor child!"" he said. ‘Poor little sirl—all this for that damned skunk!’” He uffected a further compromise with his sense of duty by getting up every few minutes and inspecting tho street or tiptoeing through the kitchen and pulling open unexpectedly the back door, Always on these occastons he had his hand im his revolver pocket. Every sense ached ee ‘Three-thirty. ‘The storm had increased in violence. Already small drifts had piled in etill corners. The glow of the base-burner was dull red; the rocking overhead had ceased, Cooper yawned and stretched out his legs. “Poor Uttle girll he eald. “Poor Wl girl! And all for the sake--all for sake""—— He drew a deep breath and eettled lower tn the chalr, OLLY CARTER bent down from the top of the stairs and Iis- tened. The detective had come tn and she had not heard him go out. It would not do to descend too atealthily fox dear be were gull awake, har As an excuse she took down a bottle of the baby's to fill with mitk, Cooper was sound asleep in the par- lor, his head dropped forward on his breast Thére was a strong odor of drying wool as lis overcoat steamed by the fire Still holding the bottle, she crept to the kitchen and tapped lightly three times on the papered door. ‘There was no reply. Her heart ai- most stopped, leaped on again, raced wildly. She repeated the signal Then, desporatcly, she put her lips she whispered was absolute silence, save for the heavy breathing of the detec- tive in the parlor. Madness seized her, She crept along the tiny pas- sage to the parlor door, and workiag with Infinite caution, in spite of het frenzy, she closed it and locked tt from the outside. Then back to the kitchen again, pulses hammering. The bottle fell off the table and broke with a ciash. For a moment she felt as if something tn hef had given away also. But there came no outcry from the parlor, no heavy welght against the filmsy door. She got a knife from the table drawer and cut relentlessly through the new paper strips. Then, with the edge of the blade, she worked the door open. Jim half sat, half lay, in the bottom of the closet with closed eyes. Drink and fatigue had combined with stifling air, Sho reached in and shook him, but he moved under her hand without opening his eyes. With al- most superhuman strength she dragged him out, laid him prone on the kitchen floor, brought snow and rubbed it over his face, slapped his wrists with it to restore his pulse— the village method. He came to quickly, stared about him. “Hush,” she sald, for fear he would speak, ‘Can you hear me, Jim? Do you know what I am saying? He nodded. “Cooper 1s locked in the parlor asleep. You can get away now. My God, don’t close your eyes again. Listen! You can get away.” “Away from what?" he asked stu- pidiy. “Away from the police, Try to re- member, Jim. You shot the clerk ;from the drug store and—the girl at Heldeger’s. The police are after you. ‘There's a thousand dollars on your head.” That roused him. He struggled to his feet, reeled, caught the table. “T remember. Well, I've got to get sat up and away. That's all, But I can't go— feeling like this. Get me—some whiskey.” He necded it, She brought { to him, measured out. He grumbled at the quantity, but after he had had it his dull eyes cleared. She had gone to listen at the parlor door. When ehe came back he was looking more himself, Ho war handsome fellow, with heavy dark hair and dark eyes, a big man as be towered above her in the little kitchen. His face did not indicate his weak- ness, There are men like that, broken reeds swinging in the wind, that yet manage to convey an impression of strength. His wife brought the overcoat and held it out for him. ‘ Y Shults’s fence, you said, Jim, and then to the railroad. The @ slow freight goes through on toward morning and if that doesn't stop, there's the milk train. And—Jim, let me hear about you now and then. Write to Aunt Bara, Don't write Ben and don't THE EVENING WORLD’S COMPLETE NOVELETTE Ppaperes by Marv Roberts Rine Sentiment -Thrills-Action—- Suspense. think once you get away that you are safe. A thousand dollars reward will set everybody in the country look- ing.” lle paused, the overcoat half on. “A thousand dollars,"’ he said slow- ly. “I see. When I'm gone, Molly, how are you going to make out? “T'll manage somehow; only go, Jim, Go! “T don't know about this going," he said after a moment. ‘They'll grab me somewhere. Somebody'll get that thousand, You'll man somehow! What do you mean by ‘somehow'? You'll get married again, maybe?’ “Oh, no; not that." He cared a little then—in spite of the girl at Heldeger’s! If he would only go! This thing for which she had schemed the whole night might fail now while he talked. “You can't stay here,’ he said slowly. “You can't bring the children up where everybody knows about their father. They can't run any sort of & race with that handicap.”’ For answer she held out Bis over- coat. But he shook his head. Perhaps it was his one big moment. Perhaps it was only a reaction from his mur-° derous mood of the afternoon. For now quite suddenly he put his arms around her. “I am not worth it, Molly,” he burst out. “I am not worth a thousand dollars alive or dead, but if they're of- fering that for me, if you had it you could go out West somewhere and no- body would know about yor You could start the kids fresh. Thi about the only thing I could do for you-- give you a chance to get away and forget you ever knew me." She did not understand at first. When she did she broke into quict sobbing. She knew his obstinacy; the dogged tenacity of the weak. Now when every second counted to have him refuse to go! She pleaded with him, went down on her knees, grew hysterical finally, and had to be taken fn his arms and quieted, as he had not quieted her tn years. And still there was no sound from the parlor. “They'll get me somehow,’ he re- peated over and over. ‘‘And I—I would like to feel that I had done one decent thing first. That red-eyed ferret in the parlor will get the money if you don't. For the children, Molly; they've got a right to ask to be started straight.'’ HAT was the argument that moved her finally into @ sort of acquiescence. There seemed nothing else for her to do, He even planned the thing for her. He would hide in the barn In the loft. The swift snow would soon fill the footprints, but in case she was anxious, she could got up early and shovel a path where he had stepped. ‘When Cooper wakened she could say she thought the thing over, that she needed the money, that she would exchange her knowledge for the re- ward, “Only you get @ paper for it—get a paper from Heldeger. He'll bluff tt out ff he can. He was stuck on the girl himeelf.’” “Jim, did you—care for that girl so much?" His face hardened. ‘I thought I did? for a—for a@ little while. She made a fool of me, and I—showed her! But all the time I loved you, Molly.”” He Kissed her solemnly es she half lay in his arms and went toward the door. “Goodby and God bless you,’ hu sald. ‘And kiss the’’—— He choked up at that and made his way out through the drifts on the Porch to the little yard. She closed the door and fastened it behind him, Then very carefully she unlocked the parlor door and opened it. Cooper was still in his chair, sunk « little lower perhaps and breathing heavily, the overturned teacup on the floor beside him. She went back to the kitchen and filled a fresh bottle for the baby. As before, it served as an excuse for her presence; with it on the table near at hand she trimmed carefully the rough-cut edges of the papered door. The inside of the closet was a clear betrayel. Still Mstening and walking softly, she got a dust brush and pan and swept up the bits of wood and sawdust from the floor. The bit she placed on the shelf, and, turn- ing, pan and brush in hand, faced the detective in the dooorway. He made @ quick dash toward the closet. “What have you got there?” he de- manded shortly. But.now, as through all the long night, her woman's wit saved her, “Don't jump at me like that. I've broken one of the baby’s bottles and I am just about to sweep it up."* She stooped and swept the broken glass on to the pan. He stared into the empty closet. “I'm sorry, Molly—I didn’t mean to stamle you. ‘That tea and the heat of the stove put me to eleep. I've been half frozen. I guess it was the bottle breaking that wakened me, I thought you sald you would go to bed."* “T couldn't sleep,” she evaded, ‘and about this time the baby always has to be fed."* She took the bottle of milk from the table and set it inside the teakettle to warm. Every vestige of suspicion had died from the man's eyes. He yawned again, stretched, compared the clock with his watch. It's been a long night,’’ he said. “Me for the atree} again. te that wind. I'm sorry for anyones that’s out in the mountains to-night.’’ H went into the parlor and, put®) ting on his overcoat, stood awkwardly in the little hall, | She faced him, the child's bottle in her hand, “I guess you know how I hate this, Molly,” he said. “I—I—this isn’t tho time for talk and there ain't any dis- loyalty in it, but I was pretty fond of you one time—I guess you know it, and—I am not the changing sort. 1; have never seen anybody else I liked the same way. It don’t hurt a good woman to know a thing like that Good night."* Before she went upstairs she took @ final look gut of the back door. Already Jim's footprints were effec- tively erased by the wind. An un- broken sheet of white snow stretched to the barn. By morning, at this rate, the telltale marks would be), | buried six inches or more. She blew out the kitchen lamp and went slowly up the stairs. The baby cried hoarsely and she « gave him his bottle, lying down on the bed beside him and taking his head on her arm. He dropped asleep there and she kept him close for comfort. And there, lying alone in the darkness with staring eyes, 51 fought her battle. She had noth in the world but the cheap furnitu in the house. Her own health wa! frail. It would be a year perhap before she could leave the children; to seek any kind of employment. The deadly problem of the poor, inextricably mixed as it is with ever; event of their lives, complicating birth, adding fresh trouble to death— the problem of money confronted her. Jim had been, in town parlance, “a poor provider,’ but at least she had Now very soon she would not have that resource, To get away from it all! She dre @ long breath. From the disgry from the eyes of her neighbors, gossip, tho constant knowledg every eye that met hers that he: band had Intrigued with asother woman and killed her. To star? anew under another name and bridg her children up in ignorancey of the wretched past—that was pe side. <1} But to earn it In this wayé-that was another. To sell out to the law! Alb her husband's weaknesses and brutali-_ ties faded from her mind. She saws him—with that pitiful memory of” women which forgets all but the good in those they love—only as he had looked in the one great moment of his lfe an hour ago. Once again he wag her hero—her lover; once again he held her tn his arms. “I would like to feel that I have done one decent / thing." bi The battle waged back and forth. She no longer cried. There are sou tragedies to which the relief of tears | ts denied. . OUR o'clock. 0 F Bhe altpped the baby's head from 7 her arm and got up. Cooper was still across the street, huddled against a house, stamping to keep warm avi swinging his arms. In an hour tlic milk train would come in and wait on the siding for the express. That woul: have been Jim's chance. If he couki get away he could start all over again and make good. He had it tn him. He was a big man—bigger than tlie people in the village had ever realized. © ‘They had never appreciated himi—that was the trouble. Why should she have ~ a fresh start? It was Jim who needed {t. She moaned and turned her face » to the pillow. ; Five o'clock. * The milk train whistling for the switch. It was still very dark. Bho crept to the window and looked out. It was a gray dawn with snow blow-/— ing like smoke through the trees. The & cold was proving too much for Cooper. |! He was making his way cautiously | across the street through the snow | toward the house. Once in the par- | lor again, she could get to the barn. The freight waited on the siding ten |. minutes sometimes, and to-night: with the snow, {t might be: long She leaped off the bed and hi down the staircase. Just before thd + front door opened to admit the dd- tective, the kitchen door closed be! hind her. She was out in the storni. 14 She umbled along, sometimes knee-deep, holding up her thin eotton wrapper. 7 The barn door was open and she slipped in. “Jim,"’ she called. “Jim!” ri She was standing at the foot of thi loft ladder, all her heart in her voice “I can't do it, Jim. I can’t sell you out, even for the children, Jim!"’ There was no sound from above Ghe climbed up, tremvling, The loft was dark. She would not believe the silence, must creep around to each corner. “I can't do it," she said over and over. “I can't do dt, Jimi" He was gone. She felt her way down through the darkness and staggered to the"door of the barn. Cooper was standing there quietly waiting for her. From the railroad came the whistle of the express as it raced through, and the slow jangle of the milk train as the engine took up the slack. “Ho's gone, Molly,’’ said the detec. tive. “He went out by Shultz's at a quarter to five. I guess ne'll make his get-away.” There was shame and something else in his eyes. The freight gathered way. As they Ustened it moved out on to the mala track. Copyright, All rights reserved, Printed. by errangement with Metropolita Mawepaper Bervice, New Xork,