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THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN.
THURSDAY, AUGUST 30. 196S.
5
DOUBLOONS
By EDEN PHILLPOTTS
AND
ARNOLD BENNETT
A THRILLING NOVEL OF MYSTERY,
TRAGEDY AND A STOLEN FORTUNE
>t******»M****M****M**MMM»*»MM**MM»M**«*»li
(Copyright, 1906, by Eden Phlllpotti
and Arnold Bennett.)
CHAPTER I.
The Watchman.
T HAT monitor, London, wa* just
lying down to rest. The clocka
ot the Strand churches and the
Strand hotels, keeping nocturnal vigil,
showed a quarter to one under tbe
autumn moon. Through the windows
of closed public houses could be seen
barmen, who, with sleep In their eyes
and duaterk In their hands, were en
deavoring to wipe away the last stain
from their counters. The Strand was
Inhabited chiefly by policemen en
gaged In the examination of shop
doors, and omnibuses that had the
air of hurrying home'for fear of be
ing late: a Carter Paterson van, ob
viously out for the night, crumbled
along at leisure. In the court yards of
the two great hotels a tew cabs, with
their glaring yellow orbs, watted, wait
ed for august patrons, while haughty
commissioners ignored contemptuous
cabmen. On the pavements, between
Aldwych and Charing Cross, there were
perhaps not more than twenty pedes
trians, Instead ot the twenty thousand
that Jostled one another at noon. The
monster seemed to expel a fatigued
sigh, as one saying: "I'll try to get a
little sleep, but I'm riot at all sure that
I shall.”
Among the score of pedestrians was
Philip Masters, a young, large-boned
man of thirty years, who had already
had some trifling experience of life, and
was destined soon to have considerably
more. He loitered from the direction
of Charing Cross, and, having stopped
a moment in front of a Jeweler's which
was illuminated In order to tantalise
burglars, he crossed from the south to
the north side of,Wellington street, and
then turned up the splendid curve of
Aldwych. The vast and ornate archi
tecture of that region rose above him
In its pearly whiteness that the breath
of the monster had not had time to
soil; and Philip wondered, as people In
Philip's condition are apt to wonder,
where the money had come from to
rear with the rapidity of a dream these
blanched places devoted solely to lux'
ury and pleasure.
For Philip was at his Anal sixpence:
he carried all that he possessed on
earth In a little black bag; and no
one was more surprised than Philip
to And himself, in the midst of a city
that spends 12,000 pounds a day on
cab fares, with no home and no pros
pect of adding to the sixpence. Philip
once had quite the habit of flinging
half-crowns to cab drivers In a grand,
careless manner. He had lost his
mother at birth and his father some
months earlier, and his effective pa
rents had beerf a couple of trustees
who. on his twenty-first birthday, had
furnished him with 6,000 pounds and
some sound advice.
They had brought him up with much
common sense; had been careful to
keep him out of public schools and his
toric universities and other pleasure
resorts; had procured him a place In
the, office of a flourishing publisher;
and. In general, had done their best
for him. But they had not taught him
how to tnke advice, nor how to lose
money on the Stock Exchange. So
that within six years, besides having
shown his heels to publishing and act
ed contrary to their advice In almost
every particular, Philip had contrived
to part with nearly the whole of his
a 000 pounds. He was a man of many
remarkable qualities; he was even a
S hllosopher of singular enlightenment,
ut he happened to have been born
with a hole In his pocket which noth
ing could mend. '
At twenty-seven he had made away
With everything except his peace of
mind and his faith In human nature.
Ho hod essayed various vocations,
from Insurance to the secretaryship of
a club, and had not found the right
one. He might have succeeded In the
colonies, but circumstances had not
sent him thither. Not every one goes
to the colonies who might succeed
there; Piccadilly Is full of colonists
wno ought to be in Canada. He had
stayed longest In his last situation, as
half-assistant manager, half-professor
In a jlu-JItsu School, for he had the
frame and the proclivities of an ath
lete. Among the pupils of the Jlu-
jitsu school (Jermyn street) had been
a duke, in an encounter Philip had
locked the duke's arm, and It was the
limb. ,
The duke, however, possibly on ac
count of his nncient lineage, had not
seen fit to yield, and somehow or other
the arm had gone off crack. Now,
when an assistant manager of a Jlu-
jltsu school fractures the arm of a
duke who is making the fortune of the
school, the fault Is clearly that of the
duke's part to yield at peril of a broken
assistant manager. Philip saw the pro
priety of a resignation, and he re
signed, so as to avoid further risk to
the arms of the British aristocracy.
That was a fortnight ago. Thence
forward he had sought in vain another
profitable outlet for his talents, and
though he had as yet neither opened
cabs at the theater doors, nor sold
evening papers, nor enlisted or done any
of the approved things for a person in
his predicament, he was rapidly acquir
ing a sort of philosophic desperation.
The idea of not having enough to eat,
which had at first appealed to his sense
of wonder and his sense of humor, now
struck him as a merely unpleasant
Idea.
His thought ran; “It can't be me
who am 'going under* in London,
surely can't be me who will starve or
beg." So run the thoughts of all mew
%vho have come to the end of tht
tether.
He passed Into Kingsway, the Im
mense artery which the surgeons have
created, but through which the blood
has not yet learned to flaw. Its double
line of lamps stretched Imposingly to
Holborn, flanked on one side by the
posters of every theater and medicine
In the metropolis, and on the other by
the raw remains of habitation which
the surgeon's knife had scatterd like
a gullotlne. In the huge and solemn
emptiness of the street he hesitated a
moment. *
He wanted to discover a certain new
lodging house of which he had heard,
but of whose address he knew nothing
save that It was in a street branching
westward out of Kingsway. Less thati
a quarter of a mile off the brazier of
the watchman burned a bright red un
der the yellow glare of the gas lights,
and a lltle system of red lanterns, re
sembling toy railway signals, showed
that Kingsway Itself, despite Its tender
age was already “up." He could see
two gesticulating figures vaguely sil
houetted against the radiance of the
brazier. As he walked slowly on he de
manded of himself whether he would
have the courage to ask the watchman
as to the lodging house. His diffidence
about this simple matter was such that,
when he approached the brazier, he
crossed over the road, away from it,
while trying to make up his mind to
accost the watchman.
The watchman, however, had a sur
prise for Philip Masters.
“Matey!" called out the watchman,
who appeared to be alone now, and
somewhat excited.
“Hello!" Phllp replied. , _
“Here! Half a mo'!" cried the
watchman.
"Do I look like a tramp,” was Phil
ip’s mental question, "that this fellow
orders me to come over to him?’
But he went over. The watchman
was middle-aged and rather thin; he
wore an overcoat and a sack on top
of the overcoat, and two mufflers.
“Want a Job?" he Inquired of Philip,
abruptly, after having scrutinized him.
He had been a night watchman in
main thoroughfares for years, and the
comparative richness of what remained
of Phllp's clothes did not deceive him
for an Instant; he judged a wanderer
by his gait and his eyes.
Philip could not tell a lie, so he
tom ihe truth.
"Well,' said the watchman, 'sit In
my cabin for three hours, and keep the
I nn .I n hnh’a vniir* mntflV
fire a-going, and a bob’s yours, matey.
“Right, oh,”. Philip agreed, deter
mined .to be Jovial with the watchman
in the watchman’s own dialect. And
what are you going to do, mate. ..
• “They've Just come for to tell me
as my poor old woman’s took 111 at
Brondesbury, and I’m going to foot it
up there. I should ha' gone anyhow,
substitute or no substitute; but seeing
as you’ll take It on . . No hankey-
pankey, now, matey!"
"Leave me the sack,’ said Philip.
What have I got to do?"
"Watch.” said the watchman crossly,
and trotted on. . ,
Philip, his shoulders enveloped In a
sack, thus found himself In charge of
Kingsway. He had his little house, and
his hearth; and he chanced on a Jarder
In the shape of a tea-can and a red
handkerchief certainly containing sus*
tenance. But the larder was not his;
it' formed no part of the bargain; it
was the property of an honest and
Ingenuous mortal In two mufflers, a
husband In the midst of domestic ca
lamity; to take It would be to rob a
poor man of his bread. Still, in two
minutes Philip was eating—all dlges-
ttve apparatus and no conscience. Ho
true Is It that a hungry man, though
he won’t lie, will steal.
A cab glided swiftly down the street
while Phllp was warming the tea.
"Don't bum your fingers. Charlie,
shouted the cabman, Imitating a wo
man’s voice, as he flashed by.
"Go and bury yourself," retorted
Phllp, feeling that he must be a
watchman to the life or perish In the
attempt. As the cabman made no re
sponse, he was conscious of pride. He
drank the tea. Then a policeman came
above the horizon, and Philip thought
he would handy gossip with the po
liceman. But the aspect of the police
man awed him, and he retired Into hls
little house and pretended to be asleep.
It might have been the sedative In
fluence of half a pork pie, half a loaf,
and a pint of tea, or It might have been
simply Philip’s fatigue, but he did not
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ImgQBBpawmwoMBOgwwMihTJinnniim
keep up for more than 30 seconds the
pretense of being: asleep; he really
slept. And after an Interval not to be
measured In time, he woke with a
S uilty atart. He had »lept while on
uty, and deferred to be taken out and
•hot—especially as he had an Intuition
that In the Immediate neighborhood
things had been happening which ought
not to happen. Also, the fire was low.
He straightened hls hat, adjusted
the sack and crept out of hls residence
to reconnoitre. Hls residence was at
the corner of Strange street and Klni-
way, and a trench had been dug along
the south side of Strange street and
nearly a third of the way across Kings
way. The trench was guarded by i
rope and Iron fence, and duly Illumi
nated by lamps In the established man
ner. It was part of Philip’s domain.
There was nothing but unoccupied
ground; to the north was a row of talk
eighteenth century houses that had
survived many Improvement schemes,
and would probably survive many
more.
Now, as Phllp gased along the
trench, he saw a dim form clamber
out of it at the other end, at a dis
tance of perhaps a hundred yards, and
ehufTle across Strange street and disap
pear, but whether It dlsapeared Into
a house or Into a possible alley Philip
could not decide. Nor could he decide
whether the form was that of a big
dog, a lion escaped from the Hippo
drome, or a human being on all fours.
He gave forth an exclamation.
■'What's up?" muttered a deep voice.
He limped violently. It was a police
man who had been standing behind
the cabin. .
"I—I thought I saw some one climb
out of the trench there," Philip stam
mered.
“Oh, you did, did you?" said the po
liceman, approaching the Are.
The tone of the policeman seemed to
Indicate to Philip that he must con
trol hls thoughts better than that.
But Philip was pot to be removed.
"Yes, I did," he Insisted.
"It's funny, as I saw nothing.” the
policeman'remarked with cold Irony.
"You the watchman?"
"Yes," said Philip.
"Oh, you are, are you?” sneered that
agnostic of a policeman. "I'll have a
look yonder.”
And he marched along Strange street
with a majestic tread that would have
shaken the Albert suspension bridge.
“Nothing here,” he called, gaslng Into
the trench with noble condescension.
And then he vanished Into the dis
tance.
Philip, who had not expected the
trench to be full of Infantry or any
thing else sufficiently conspicuous to
catch the eye of a policeman, seised
a lantern as soon as the policeman
was out of sight, and Jumped Into the
trench. It wps a nice, clean rectangu
lar trench, with sewer pipes lying In
It Irregularly. At the further end,
where the pipe had already been laid,
the bottom was 2 feet higher than else
where, and nt the Junction of the two
levels the end of the sewer pipe came
out from the earth, Lying close by was
a broken section of pipe, and lodged
by accident Just In the mouth of the
laid- pipe was a small fragment of the
broken section. Philip picked It up
and examined It.
There was clearly stamped on It a
fingermark In some dark substance. He
carried It away; It might well be the
Imprint of a workman; It probably
was; but, on the other hand, It might
not. He saw nothing else of the slight
est Interest. Before returning to the
cabin he ascertained that an alley
named Little Orlnlers alley ran north
out of Btrange street, nearly opposite
the end of the trench. A single l**ht
burned In the entrance hall of the
house at the angle of Strange street
and the alley; otherwise the street was
uterly lifeless.
"And my breakfast, master?
He was thus greeted on hls arrival
at the cabin. The watchman, hls em
ployer, had come back breathless, and
In a stormy temper.
"I've eaten," said Philip. I m aw
fully sorry.” .... „ . ...
“Being sorry won t do," replied the
watchman. "That breakfast'll cost you
a bob, and no less. Here 1 foot It all
the blooming way to Brondesbury ex
pecting my old missus at her last gasp,
and ihe ain’t even 111. Sleeping like a
child she Is, and I startles her finely.
What's up. Charley? 1 says she.
” 'Why, 1 I says, ‘they tell me you was
dying, Sarah,’ I says.
"Then It was a false alarm?
"A false alarm It was! Some one
trying to make a fool of me! Spite!
There’s often spite against a watch
man. Then I comes back, and I finds
my breakfast eat up and my tea drunk
and my fire jlggerlng well nearly out.
You can move on. matey; thats what
you can do. There’s no bob for jjou In
my pocket” ... ...
Philip was silenced. He picked up
from the cabin hls little black bag.
'Can you tell me where there's a
lodging house called the Corner
House?" he asked the watchman tim
idly.
"Yes. It's Just there, at the corner
of Strange street and Little Orlnlers
8,1 'Thank you," said Philip after
PI A**terrlflc thunder assailed hls ear
from the south. And In a moment a
flying squadron of newspaper vans
swept up Kingsway from Fleet street
toward Euston—ewegt past and was
gone. No clatter of hoofs on the hard
road, no cracking of whips; nothing
but the deafening whirr of heavy
wheels and the odor of petrol! The
monster had roused Itself before the
dawn, before the moon had paled.
the combatants. He opened the sec
ond door with a rapid movement and
beheld . a well-dressed, slightly built
young man In the-fatal embrace of an
elderly well-seasoned navvy,
"Help me," sputtered the young roan,
choking, with, a frantic appeal in hls
eyes.
"Certainly,” said Philip, enchanted
by the adventure. He dropped hls
'with the outer side of hls right
hand; hardened by special training,
Philip gave one cut just under .the
navvy's ear. Shocked Into attention by
the novelty and painfulness of the at
tack, the navvy flung hls victim to tho
floor, and sprang forward to slay
Phlllp, who lay down on the flat of hls
back between the two doors. It the
navvy had had even the slightest ac
quaintance with Jlu-JItsu ne would
have recoiled before this master-posi
tion In the greatest known art of self-
defense. The navvy, however, had
never heard of jlu-JItsu, and-the con
sequence ot bis rash Ignorance was that
after getting hls wrist Ingeniously
sprained, he was propelled ln a grace
ful curve by the upraised flat, of Phil
Ip's left foot, clean Into the street.
Hls firs thought on recovering hls
wits was that the. age of miracles had
returned. Then, not being a duke, he
staggered away,- beaten.
Philip rose. •
■Jiu-Jitsu, I suppose?” said the young
man, also rising, but with more diffi
culty.
Philip nodded.
“I thought so. I must learn It. I m
excessively obliged to you."
"Oh, that's nothing/' said Philip.
Have You a bed to let? I take It you
are the manager."
"You don’t know me?” exclaimed the
young man, with gentle surprise.
No,” Philip answered. “How should
l? But as you appeared to be trying
to chuck some one out I naturally as
sumed—" «
CHAPTER II.
The Corner House.
The house Indicated to Philip by the
watchman was like the other houses In
the row, except that It possessed a
double frontage. It had five stories, a
flat, plain face of dark, soiled crimson,
and some nineteen windows on Strange
street alone. In common with nenrly
all slmllnr houses between the Strand
and Euston, It seemed to have lost Its
Illusions early In life, and to be await
ing the end with the cold dignity of a
proud, unattractive woman. Little hart
ft dreamed. In its Georgian youth, of
the unique fate In store for It at the
hands of Mr. Hllgay.
The light still burned In the hall,
and the moonbeams caught the nine
teen somber windows with a peculiar
theatrical effect when Philip mounted
the steps to the front door. He could
now decipher, in discreet letters on
a discreet copper plate on tne door,
the following legend:
THE CORNER HOUSE.
Residence and Board.
Adrian Hllgay. Manager.
The front door, he perceived, was
not quite closed.* He pushed It open,
and encountered another door, whose
upper part was of ground glass. On
this ground glass he saw the sharp,
moving shadows of two figures en
gaged In what was evidently a serious
struggle; and he could hear the sound
of battle and the hard breathing of
Insurance
That
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Is what a man wants when ha
seeks protection for those de
pendent upon him.
A Policy
In the PACIFIC MUTUAL LIFE
protects him, whllo ho Is pro
tecting them, as It provides In
surance against the loss ot hls
Earning Power by Accident, Ill
ness or Total Disability as well
as by Death.
A broken leg ot a case of ty
phoid fever would not seem so
bad It he knew hls Earning
Power was Insured and he was
not suffering a Financial loss as
well as pain.
Annual *
Dividends
to reduce the premium or In
crease tbe Insurance as desired.
In asking for Information and
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J. Clements Shafer,
MANAGER,
413-14 Peters Building,
ATLANTA, OEOROIA.
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Tickets on sale dally limited for re
turn until October 31, 1906.
Paeeenger end Ticket Office No. 1
Peachtree Street. 'Phone 142.
J. C. LU8K,
District Passenger Agent.
“You don’t mean to say you don’t
recognise me from my portrait*?" The
young man'* surprise wa* beconilng
almost a hurt surprise.
"What portraits?"
"Why, In the press! I’ve been In
tervlewed with portrait by nearly every
paper in London. I'm Hllgay. You’ve
heard of Hllgay, Jhe bookmaker?"
"Never!" said Pnuip, smiling. "You
see I’m—"
"Not heard of Hllgay, the bookmaker,
my dear sir! But he was a very great
bookmaker Indeed. I regret to have
to say It. since he was my father.
However, he was strictly honorable.
He used to say he had lost a hundred
thousand pounds in bad debts to the
house of lords alone. He died and
left me extremely wealthy, and as I
had the misfortune to disapprove of
bookmaking I was obliged to do some
thing to satisfy my conscience. Hence
my scheme, sir."
"What scheme?"
Mr. Hllgay controlled hls astonish
ment at Philip’s surpassing ignorance,
and then said: .... ...
'Come Into my office and 111 tell you
all about it."
And he drew Philip Into a tiny office
to the left of the hall. It was elec
trically lighted, furnished with frail,
green furniture and adorned ‘With re
productions of pictures by G. F. AVatts.
They sat down.
"Take some Cut Cavendish? sug
gested Hllgay, offering a pouch. ' My
scheme, sir. Is philanthropic. It alms
to do for the distressed, respectable
and well-connected what Is done by
Lord Rowton and others for the lower
classes. I have no prejudice against
the lower classes, but their habits are
not ours. And It has always struck me
that one of the worst hardships of a
genteel person (excuse the word) djwn
on his luck Is that he is forced to adopt
the habits and endure the society of
hls social Inferiors. Imagine the feel
ings of a refined Individual, sir, whom
ill luck or unwisdom cot^Ws to lodge,
for example, In a Rowton house! Im
agine hls natural disgust at the clothes,
the manners, the accent—er—odors or
those with whom he must associate. I
provide a boarding house (I will not
call It a lodging house) for the re
spectable person who la reduced to ills
last sixpence."
"That Is my case" Philip P«t *«•
Hllgay bowed, and continued with
eagerness, “It is called the Corner
House, because there Is a corner for
everybody—of decent appearance anti
demeanor." . .
"And who settles what Is decent ap
pearance and demeanor?" Philip asked.
"I do, sir. I alone. When I am not
satisfied I say we are full up.j
•You are always here, then?
This house Is my hbbby. I am al
ways here. I sleep from & a. m. to
noon; and from noon to 2 p. m. i taKe
exercise. Between those hours new
guests are not admitted. My difficul
ty with the person whom you so klna-
ly threw out was caused by hls refusal
to believe my formal statement that we
were full up. Such a person would
have been Impossible In the Corner
House, where the standard of manners
Is high, It the purse Is low. We eat
off marble-topped tables, sir. but we
do not eat peas with a knife, and we
allow ourselves Japanese serviettes, and
we do not make noises, and we do not
swear. The ladles leavs the dining
room first"—
• There are ladles?"
"Most decidedly. Why not? A dis
tressed gentlewoman, sir, Is one or
"And you make It pay at slxperwe
a night?” asked Philip, filling the room-
let with fumes of cut Cavendish.
"It Just pays current expenses. Space
Is rigidly economized, but not ventila
tion. The old rooms are each divided
Into two. or even three, cuWcles—but
by sound-proof partitions. They are
very cheaply furnished, but each dif
ferently, and with art furniture, and I
could not deprive myself of the pleas
ure of putting Inexpensive copies of
masterpieces on every wall In the
house." He waved a hand. In days
when a reminder of Raphael’s 'Ansld-
erf Madonna' can be bought tor three
pence”— . _
'•Exactly,’' said Philip. “Now. can I
have one of your sixpenny rooms?’
it grieves me to say that we are
full up," replied Hllgay.
“Aht" said Philip, “I am not respect
able enough! I guessed It! Yet I give
you my word of honor that I do not
eat peas with a -knife."
"I beg you to believe," returned Hll
gay seriously, "that we are really full
The Corner House Is a colossal
success. However, one ot our guests,
Mrs."—he consulted a large book, open
on the desk—"Mrs. Upottery, told me
last night that she should leave this
morning. I will reserve her room for
you. And In tho meantime you will do
me the favor of resting In the arm
chair. I consider myself deeply
your debt." %
He Jumped up, deprecating Philip’s
expressions of gratitude. A clock struck
five at the same moment, and a step
as heard In the hall.
"My sub-manager," said Hllgay,
opening the door. "I will give Instruc
tions about you. Make yourself at
home here. Good morning, and thanks
again."
The* bookmaker’s son passed suave
ly, with hls rather melancholy smile,
out of the little office.
And Philip took the artistic green
armchair, and slept under the electric
*He was awakened later by a prodig
ious din outside In the street. The
British workman w*as commencing hls
deliberate labors In the trench, and
making the world aware of the fact,
Philip stretched himself, looked about,
and found that the window was open,
and also that the pale lustre of a Lon
don dawn was competing with the elec
tricity In the room. He rose, turned
off tne light, and went Into the hall.
Two boys were cleaning the floor.
They had apparently received their or
ders, for one of them touched a fore
lock and directed him to a lavatory
which was microscopic, like the man
agerial office, but very complete In
detail. From the lavatory he saunt
ered to tho street, where a chill and
tonic wind was blowing eastward. The
same simplicity_of the early morning,
tranqulllzlng the feverish pulses of the
night hours and dispelling their wild
thoughts, made him feel that, despite
hls misfortunes and hls unenviable sit
uation, It was an excellent and goodly
thing to be alive, with sound health
and a cheerful mind.
And then he approached the trench
and looked over the ropes. The earth
above the laid portion of the pipes had
a peculiar appearance on the side near
est to him. It seemed not to lie quiet
ly; it seemed to be somewhat uneven;
to have been disturbed and to have
been replaced. The group of workmen
were moving pipes at the other end of
the trench, near Kingsway, their fig
ures vaguely mingled In the uncertain
and feeble light. A milkman passed
by, one arm weighted by a heavy can
and the other stretched horizontally.
Ah Philip staged Into the trench a
regiment of strange suspicions, creat
ed out of Innumerable half-remem
bered circumstances of the night, took
possession of hls brain. A foreman ap
proached him along the trench.
Philip addressed him.
"You notice nothing remarkable
about the lie of that earth, there?" he
suggested diffidently, pointing.
"I notice fts It's been badly filled,"
replied the foreman, who was munch
ing a piece of bread. "I told 'em about
It yes’day arternoon. But I don’t know
as that’s any concern o' yours. You
ain’t hls majesty the chairman of the
county council. I presoom?"
Philip broke Into hls Imperturbable
smile.
"I w*as only thinking It had been dis
turbed In the night," he said.
"Not It!" said the foreman.
"Going to have them do it again?"
Philip asked.
At that instant hls face being In the
direction of the street so that he com
manded both the trench and the Cor
ner House, he saw* in the tall of hls
eye a blind lifted and let fall mo
mentarily In one of the window's of Mr.
Hllgay’s establishment for the respect
able.
"Not much." said the foreman. "This
Is a contract Job. What do you think?"
"I see,", said Philip laconically. The
regiment of suspicions fled before the
ganger’s pmtter-of-fnct tone.
He left the foreman and strolled Into
Kingsway, and then up toward Hol
born. He had hls next meal to find.
But the foreman, visited In hls turn,
by some disconcerting notion, contin
ued to gaze at the accused, earth.
“BUI!” he shouted at length;
An old man In the gang at the other
end of the trench glanced up land the
foreman summoned him with a Jerk of
the head.
"Look at that, Bill," said the fore
man. Bill scratched hls head.
"Funny, ain’t it?" murmured Bill,
In a guttural voice that indicated
brandy.
In another minute four laborers had
received orders to remove the earth.
In another five .minutes there was a
high commotion. First a boot, then a
leg. then the w'hole dead body of a
man had been brought to view, laid
flat against the sewer pipe. The group
of laborers stood round it, awed by the
pathetic dignity of death, waiting for
a policeman.
"That was luck, that was!" mur
mured the foreman, holding In hls
hand the luHf-eaten bread. "If I hadn’t
looked at it curlous-Uke* he’d ha' lain
there till—goodness knows how long
he would ha' lain there."
Continued in Tomorrow's Georgian*
TRY A WANT AD
IN THE GEORGIAN)!
Hotel Marlborough
Broadway, 36th and 37th Sts., Herald Square, New York
Most Centrally Located Hotel on
Broadway. Only ten minutes walk
to 2S leading theatres. Completely
renovated and transformed in every
department. Up-to-date in all re-
•pects. Telephone in each room.
Four Beautiful Dining Room*
with Capacity of 1200.
The Famous
German Restaurant
Broadway*! chief attraction for Spe
cial Food Dishes and Popular Music.
Esr*t««a Pita. 400 Itoms. 200 Bath!.
-WRITE FOR BOOKLET.-
SWEENEY-TIERNEY HOTEL COMPANY
E. M. TIERNEY. Mana«*r
ALL BUYERS OF BULK LIME, ATTENTION
For several year* we have boon endeavoring to set tho manufactur
er* of the celebrated OAGERS WHITE LIME to give us prices to
competo for Atlanta Dulk Lime trade. We beg to Inform all bujrers
of Bulk Lime that wo can now furnish GAOERS WHITE LIME,
which Is the MOST select and HIGHEST grade of Lime for.
PLASTERING AND BRICK WORK.
The output of this plant bos largely been taken up by tho Select
Plastering trade at Cincinnati, Memphis and other towns, but we are
now In shape to give our patrons tho best that can be obtained.
Herringbone Expanded Steel Lath.
Dehydratine, the Damp and
Compound.
Symentrex (Liquid Portland Cement); for colorty
washing,
masonry, exterior and Interior wall^, cement floors and old brick ^
walls and besides giving walls a Fine Finish and Color, 8ymentrex jj
renders them proof against Rain, Snow and Sleet
CAROLINA PORTLAND CEMENT CO.
NEW YORK
AND RETURN
eaFoXr^
AIR LINE RAILWAY
$26.25
Ticket* will be sold for all train* leaving Atlanta on August
28th and 29th, and will be good to leave New York not later
than September 4th.
Two train* dally, leaving Atlanta at 13 noon and 5:86 p. m.
Correspondingly low rate* from all point*.
CITY TICKET OFFICE, 88 PEACHTREE STREET,
(English-Americen Building.)
Talephone No. 100. Atlenta, Ga.
W. E. CHRISTIAN, A. fi. P. A., Atlanta,Ha.
s
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