Newspaper Page Text
Saturday, December 27, 1924
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ElizabethJordan
copyright by The century co.
Renshaw, who had been terribly
nerve shocked and forced to spend
a year
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Elisabeth Jordan.
. ter ... kind Renshaw’s mas
was a man, interested in
t0 £ ln 5i hl T to n °™*lcy. But he
w, had hardly taken , up his residence
in his masters house until queer
things began to happen. They were
of such a nature as to test the san
lty of the coolest mind. Renshaw
wondered if' he really saw a blue
circle dancing about his darkened
a and lf the ghostly
noises K he heard were not the prod
ucts of his imagination.
Reading on we discover that Ren
shaws nerves w-ere not tricking
blm - H « actually saw and heard
the things and there was no imagi
n a tl0 n ^ bou i H - But what was it
^1 Behind , , about K it? and Should what was he the mystery
stay and fight it run away or
out? He acted like
the courageous young man he really
was. He stayed. Along with his
other experiences he encountered
some peculiar as well as some
charming people. Renshaw Could
ask for no more agreeable compan
ions than the master of the house
and members of the famiiv, but
there were strange guests and sus
P clous servants who appeared and
disappeared in a most disconcert
Ing’ manner. The young man
grappled with every unusual situa
I,?" himself d . becoming In ‘he grappling a better fighter found
It would be wrong to reveal any
Ino A ^ e 0 d l L f t thls eve ver n y fascinating the story
Intensely , . , interesting curtain
Z .t bet 5 Jo r ^ mystery.
an was connected
with the editorial 1 . , staff of one of the
big New York newspapers for a
number of years. Undoubtedly she
met Renshaw and the other char
SPio* tale, incidents and became she de- fa
lightfully portrays, so
service. She Is while In that
famous the author of the
story, “The Girl In the Mir
ror. and about twenty other books
as well as several plays. Her short
stories have appeared in the leading
American and English magazines.
CHAPTER
A Man Cast Down.
R ENSHAW stopped at the en
trance to the grounds of the
country house he was approaching
and surveyed the building with the
detached expression of a baby that
is being kissed. Presumably, some
thing agreeable was happening to
him, but he could not whip up much
Interest in the episode. He had ar
rived at Tawno Ker, the home of
David Campbell, and, incidentally
his own future home. In the ab
senee of any conveyance, he had
walke.d from the station—a little
matter of a mile and a half—and he
was more than ready to set down
hi* handbag and feel sorry for him
self and remove some of the dust of
the road from his shoes before he
appeared to his new employer.
The fact that the employer did
not as yet realize that Renshaw
was to be lijs new employee did not
disturb the young man. Campbell
would knqw that soon enough. In
the meantime there was the place
to be looked over. Possibly he,
Renshaw, would not like the place
—in which case, of course, he need
not present himself to its owner.
He took off his hat, however, and.
leaning languidly against a stone
pillar of the wide gateway, let the
late October breeze cool his head.
It was a strikingly well-shaped
head, obviously capable of more in
terior work than Its owner was
now requiring of It. Of late, Ren
shaw had lost interest in most mat
ters. For two years he had stood
outside of himself, watching the
undirected course of his existence.
He turned upon the driveway
leading to the old red brick house
before him n pair of eves that
matched his hair in color. Tlicv
were very dark brown eves, themT almost
black. Nature, [ n giving to
him. had shown sSSXI churaetoruti,. in.
difference to the
en. But It was long since Renshaw
had turned those eyes on women—
pr. Indeed, on anything else_with
other than the remote expression
that had become habitual to them
With this expression he surveyed
the two rows of maple trees* lines that
guarded the driveway, like of
footmen in gorgeous livery sepa
rating to permit visitors tq pass.
He really must look at the place.
Yes, he must. He must decide
whether or not he was going into
that house to see David Campbell
and work for him. He lashed his
will to tiie task, nnd his will, like
an unwilling horse, shied and side
stepped. He forced it to the effort.
He would look at the house, any
way—and then, an Inner voice
again suggested, perhaps he
wouldn’t have to go in.
It was late In the afternoon, nnd
the autumnal twilight fell while he
wmanwlT* h e 8l tatlnK In y,e dlm
-
t h „ | boaa ®> Htthta began
ro to twinkle, like smiles In tired eyes,
Th<^ \ wn* •ometh 1 ' 1 * 8u very £* e8t soothing «d rest,
with " ® h ?* n8haw
ced w ’ re -
p a at, casually 1 dusted hi*
shoes on the grass of the roadside,
and picked up the traveling bag.
Ile had decided to remain and work
*°r David Campbell.
He made hls way up the avenue,
sagging a little under the weight of
the caw, and, gratefully dropping
the latter on the broad veranda
wit • 'ch an architect unhound
the care of a
specialist had
covered Kl
but health
his nerves
had not become
n ° rmal -
?d bT the a ?r a ;
that he could
w m ^ ft e ? * lv -
dread under
taking any re
» P ° n s l biiity.
make'a*strange
compact, which
coining involved his be
cally practi
the slave
of another man.
For
by tradition Rat, V^' U
front nf °\ Joh' dw ® lling be
aKa i hesitated, hcsi ’
n rn t with his finger on
nr^th^ m? L ^ T*,?* e6Ct ? C to beU Renter ’ T *
UIe ’ Tf If he P re88 ed it, and some
one came, . he would be committed
t0 an interview, to explanations, to
tbe carryln & out of a plan—the first
P lan ? ie had formed in two years.
** had bee * ver y hard to make that
W0Uld be hothlng Short Of
^hing to carry It through. Yet
there was only one alternative —
thJs a,teraathe his sick soul
i
j C
'j ^ ft
t ■j f,
I ^jj a
€ B B J I# Jw Ijf
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!<
in the Dim Windows of the House
Lights Began to Twinkle.
sometlmes approached, sometimes
rejected, but always abysmally ab
horred. The memory of it now
steadied his nerves, He pressed
the button.
Tiie door opened, find a man
servant stood outlined against the
light of the inner hall. He was tall,
straight, neat, round-faced, and
vacuous. the thirties, Though he was still in
he appeared to have
reached the. summit of his ambi
f * 0Ils - Me exuded complacency as
be 8 * are d P as t the caller’s profile
wltb exactl >’ tbe degree of human
deta Pbraent that Is the highest ideal
i °* bis kln d-
1 “ Is Mr - Campbell at home?” Ren
! sbaw was tumbling for his card,
“* w111 in< iulre, sir.”
“ If you P lea8 <?” Renshaw hand
ed bitn tbe car d’and crossed the
threshold into the hall. The servant
he8ita ted a fraction of a second,
wllile bis glance touched and
8,| pped past the traveling bag. He
closed the door - leaving the case
,vb ^ e U lay \
you wi 'l sit here a moment,
sl,v —” ,
His manner was entirely correct,
yet It subtly conveyed to Renshaw
the Impression that the man had
not accepted him, that, though he
had crossed the actual threshold of
Tawno Ker, he was still waiting on
Its doorstep. He nodded and seat
ed himself on a carved settle that
stood at the right of the entrance.
The servant disappeared through a
door opening into a room on the
same side of the hall. Almost Im
mediately lie returned, the subtle
atmosphere of his disapproval
slightly intensified.
“Mr. Campbell Is not at home,
sir,” he formally reported.
Renshaw nodded. “Of course he
isn’t. I forgot to send in my letter
of Introduction with my card. Stu
pid of me. M
He drew the letter from hls
P dcke . , t nnd . bnnded , , . it Give
over,
hil .”, tbat /i b ® d ' reotad ' A certain
pr,de ln bim ’ that raI)led 1° , any as
socIatIon wl,h oU,pr human beings,
led to an automu,le correctness of
speech and lnanner tba t was the
r e8alt of ear,y year8 habit. His
« m thd . i8 toward the butter was ex
KraYJT a< -^ y _ w b a t It MT shou ld have been,
Iff him Ke
i olced ln tbe res P lte be was of
ferad and urRed ‘“mediate flight.
n faln t hesitation obscured
,he Perfection of the butler’s man
ITpr ’ as a llgllt mlst momentarily
(llms a T 1 ?*’ f ]? r an '" stan t bis
ey ‘ >s inet ,be call er s and the two
wHis clashe d- Renshaw’s head
Jerked forward ln the nod that once
had been a command. The servant
slowly turned away with the letter,
and then, quickening hls steps,
again disappeared through the door
at tbe right of the hall. This time
bis absence was longer, Five
minutes passed before Renshaw
was conscious of his unobtrusive
return.
“Mr. Campbell will see you, sir,”
he reported.
Renshaw rose, nodding toward
the right-hand door.
"In that room?”
"Yes. sir.”
"All right. Bring my bag Into the
house, please, and leave It here in
the hall.”
The man obeyed, and Renshaw
walked Into the big own whereto
master of the holme awaited him.
It wus n comfortable room, even a
beautiful one, Its walls were lined
with hooks with special, much-hun
died bindings. Its deep chairs were
the sort one snnk Into with an ln
nerjrigh of comfort. At Its far end
logs blazed ln a huge bricked flre
place, and ln front of the fire an
old man sat alone,
Renshaw. walking toward him
across tne u>ug room, nad time to
realize tUat he was a very old man,
indeed, and so small and thin that
he seemed almost lost In the re
cesses of his big chair. The skin
of his delicate, ascetie face was
colorless; close but as the visitor came
to him he turned up to the
young man a pair of eyes so blue
and keen that the 'atter was almost
startled. Simultaneously he held
out a shrunken hand.
You will forgive me for not get
ting up, Mr. Renshaw,” he said, in
a voice that seemed mnch younger
than its owner. ”Tm not moving
about In a very sprightly fashion
these days, but I am glad to see any
one who comes to me from my
frlend, Doctor Stanley. Will you
draw that chair a little closer and
sit uown facing me, please? I
don t hear quite so well as I used
to. »»
Ren lb aw released the hand he
had been holding as Its owner
spoke, and obeyed Instructions. He
felt a sentiment for the old man,
su dden and to him surprising. It
was more than Interest. It was ai
raost Hklng. He settled comlbrt
ably into the soft depths of his
Chalr and flxed h lS dark eyes on
the face of his host with an emo
tion that was almost satisfaction.
This plan of his seemed to be a
good one. M«chanically tbe old
man unfolded the letter of introduc
tion he had been holding In his left
hand, and cleared his throat.
‘This letter,” he began, “Is dated
today. You have just come from
town and from Doctor Stanley?”
“Yes, sir.”
“He hasn't been here to see me
for a fortnight,” Campbell grum
bled. “Of course I know he’s busy,
but he might find time for his pa
tient, if not for his old friend.
Stanley and I were young together,
you know.”
“Yes, sir. He told me that."
The familiar lassitude was at
tacking Renshaw’s will, like a
creeping paralysis. He had got
this far, and apparently the effort
had exhausted him. The thought
°f the impending interview filled
him with a kind of horror. If only
Campbell would take the situation
in hand and settle everything! But
Campbell did nothing of the sort,
because Campbell had as yet no
notion of what the situation was.
He waited, but his visitor said
nothing. The host decided that this
was a young man who had no inten
■ tion of wasting time in generalities.
That being so, they would come at
once to the point—Whatever the
point was. He lean back and
smiled at his caller. It was his
| most engaging smile, gracious and
whimsical—a smile that illumined
his delicate old face like a light
from within. Under its charm the
| set lips of the visitor slightly re
laxed, hut he did not return the
smile. With Renshaw', smiling was
a lost art.
Doctor Stanley tells me you
have a proposition to make to me—
a rather unusual and startling one,
the host began comfortably, He
asks A e to give it the most careful
consideration.
“Yes, sir.
This was a difficult young man—
although an extremely good-looking
one. Campbell lost the details of
line and color that would have
charmed women. What he took in,
with an unconscious sigh of envy,
was the chap’s splendid physique.
Six feet at least, he t*ld himself,
and superbly made. The fellow Whs
young, too, probably not much more
than thirty, and, despite his odd
lack of response, obviously a thor
oughbred. David Campbell liked
thoroughbreds, being a thorough
bred himself. Renshaw’s somber
gaze had fixed itself on a door be
hind the host, but not more than
eight feet away. He was trying to
lash his wil) to the task before him;
hut again It shied, and, he
looked, his ears legitimate caught : n sound
that gave him a excuse
for delay. The sound was like
rustle of stiff linen garments. Some
one was on the other side of the
door. Hls attention caught and
held, he waited, expecting to see
the door open. Campbell, hearing
nothing, bit his lip. This was a dif
ficult fellow!
“I am ready to listen to your
proposition,” he said, more con
cisely than he had yet spoken.
‘Thank you.” Renshaw replied
almost absently, his eyes, with a
quickened expression, still on the
door he was facing. “But what I
have to say is confidential. If you
will permit m
He was on his feet as he spoke,
and In three strides had reached
the door and opened it. As he did
so he experienced a sense of
chagrin. The door led into a side
corridor, wide and empty. , No one
was there, though it was (possible
that he had caught the flutter of a
white garment disappearing around
a corner. He returned to his chair
looking and feeling rather sheep
ish. His host was regarding him
with courteous surprise,
I want to be sure we are not
overheard," Renshaw explained as
he sat down again. “You see, my
•proposition Is u nusu a l—"--------
Campbell nodded. “You may feel
-qu it e- - sa f e, ” he said,- “No <me h*
the house could have any reason
for listening to us. even If we-had
any one here who—ah—did that
kind off thing.”
Again he wished this young man
would come to the point; and now,
br if in response to the telepathic
command, ihe caller did so, taking
,the moment as lf It were a hurdle.
“The truth is, sir," he blurted out,
I—have come here to ask you to
buy me!”
Campbell leaned forward.
“I beg your pardon," he said
apologetically, “nut 1 shall have to
ask you to speak very distinctly.
Of late my hearing—
“I have come here, Mr. Camp
bell,’’ Renshaw repeated, slowly and
clearly, “to ask you to buy me!”
The old mnn, who was still bend
ing toward him with a look of al
most strained attention, relaxed ln
his chair and smiled. It was a
courteous smile, but a weary one,
the smile of a man constrained by
good breeding to accept,* dull jest
He shook hls head.
“And now,” he Invited, “let us
get to the point.”
“That Is the point.” Renshaw
spoke with an apathetic flatness of
tone. He waa strucellnv with a
tremendous temptation to get up
and get out; to drop the whole busi
ness ; to take the other way—
which, for the moment at least,
seemed the easier way,
“Will’ yon—ah—elucidate?"
“It sound* rather weird, I know,”
Renafaaw said apologetically, “hut
GRIFFIN DAILY NEWS
Doctor ntnniey earned you it was
unusual. He knows all about my
plan and highly approves of It”
“Dick approves of my—my buy
Ing you?” Campbell was puzzled,
unconvinced, annoyed, and still a
bit apprehensive,
“Yes, sir. And, if yon don't mind
I should like to explain.”
“I wish you would,” Campbell
said, almost fretfully,
“Mr. Campbell, I don’t expect you
to take in the thing all at once, but
the facts are these." Renshaw Vipd
begun almost glibly, because be had
rehearsed his opening speech. Now
he stopped, as If uncertain how to
proceed.
“Yes," prompted his hearer. Ren
shaw drew a deep breath,
“Two years ago.” he said, fterrible “1 had
a n unusual experience—a
shock. I will not trouble j with
the details; in fact, I could 'nbt dis
cuss them. The result ts what I
am talking about. The experience
knocked me out completely for a
year. The second year I was able
to crawl around. In leading-strings,
as It were. Now I am well, or al
most well—but there Is still one
thing I can’t face. Stanley tells roe
It’s my last obsession, and that It
will pass as soon as I get into a
normal way of living. However that
may be, It has got me now.”
He brought out the last words
between set teeth.
“What Is it?” Campbell asked the
question very gently.
“A fear of the responsibility for
my own Ufe and self-support, a fear
that amounts to a nightmare."
What? I beg your pardon, but
I am never quite sure I am hearing
things correctly,” the old man in
terrupted.
“A horror of the responsibility
for my self-support,” Renshaw al
most fiercely repeated. "I can’t en
dure it. If I have to face it in the
half-baked state I am in now, I
shall never get well. I know that.
If, on the other hand, some one
else will be responsible for me a
year longer, I am beginning to be
lieve that, with the start I’ve got, I
can be cured. But—I’ve got to be
owned and supported by another.
I’ve got to be a bondman. I’ve got
to be as irresponsible and depen
dent as a slave, doing as I’m told
and absolutely assured of a living.”
David Campbell shook his head.
He was still puzzled, but he felt he
was beginning to understand. The
poor chap needed humoring.
“My dear fellow,” he began sooth
ingly, “surely there are sanltoriums
where you can have every care—’’
“I’ve been in them; I have had
every care. That’s just the point.
I am ready for the next step. The
doctors have turned me out. They
say I am well but I don’t know it.
They say I will never know as long
as I remain in Institutions. I must
live a normal Ufe. I must have
work. And I can work.
I can work like a steam-engine
if you put the at It. They all admit
that. And it’s good, stiff, intelligent
work, too. There’s nothing the mat
ter with my brain, Mr. Campbell;
don’t imagine that there Is. There
never has been, even when things
were at their worst." He dropped
his head into his hands. “But there
will be,” he ended, with an irre
pressible groan, “unless, for just a
little while longer, some one else is
responsible for my support. So
Doctor Stanley sent me to you. He
said he was sure I could be of great
use to you—that you needed some
one— »»
David Campbell leaned back
again in his chair, joined the fin
gers of his thin hands together, and
looked past them Into the fire.
“Useful? Yes, perhaps,” he mur
mured, “if you had merely come to
me for a situation. But this propo
sition—It’s all very unsettling.” He
broke off. “Why wouldn’t it do to
accept a situation on salary?” he
ask «l abruptly.
“Because if I did that I should
1Ive in ter ror of losing my job. No;
*’ T * got to fix things In another
way ’ 1 ve got t0 una “ nlan WU( > wit!
take rae ou in such a binding fash
lon , tbat he sim P ly can’t get rid of
-
me.
“Humph!” Campbell stared into
the flames. The caller watched
him.
“What can you do?” the old man
asked at last.
‘‘Anything J" The word came from
the caller's lips like a bullet.
Campbell shook his head. “Any
thing is nothing,” he pointed out
with sudden austerity. “What can
you do, really, that is worth a sal
ary?"
The young man flushed.
“I can keep accounts,” he said
doggedly. “I can act as secretary
and general utility man, and guard
your health. That’s what Doctor
Stanley especially wanted me to
do," he remembered to add. “Look
after you and see that you look af
ter yourself. He said there were
conditions just at present that were
rather trying to you. He thought
there ought to be a younger man
here with you."
Campbell nodded. For the first
time, he was Impressed as well as
Interes ted. Startling as Renshaw’s
proposition had been, there must lie
something In It worth considering,
or St an ‘ p y would not Have
<,ate< l It In the strong letter he had
"Tltten. Also, the reference to hls
health appealed to him.
“H It were merely a matter of
engaging your services—” he mur
mured discontentedly,
,J,1 e other Interrupted him.
“‘t's not that,” he pointed out. “I
< ’°uhl not consider for a moment
tha mere offer of a situation. Please
remember the vital detail that I am
asking you to buy me. For the next
year 1 want to be your property as
absolutely as if I were a
slave. Also, try to remember that
my obsession does not Impair my
ability In any way. Doctor Stanley
guarantees that I can be very use
ful to you if I am certain of my
ture for a year—If, in a phrase, my
future Is off my mind.”
Campbell, his eyes still on
fire, again reflected. One point In
creasingly impressed him. Possibly
tills extraordinary young man
prolong his life. Stanley seemed
think so. At the thought hls
eyes took on a new expression.
in the heart of this word-out
man mechanism, and
by anyone but hls physician,
an almost abnormal passion to
on.
All this,” he said slowly, “Is
most Impossible thing I’ve ever
tened to.”
The visitor’s glance dropped.
“I suppose so,’’ he dully
ceded. “I realize how it must
to anyone else. But Doctor
l«r understood, and he
would. 1 i »** t a 1, - of nerve
obsession, you see, sir,” be patiently <
repeated, “a fear of life and of the
future. If I merely had a job 1
should Uve In a panic. Whereas,
If I were actually bought for a year,
I’d be off my own mind; don’t you
see?”
“And on mine," Campbell dryly
commented. "
“Yes, I see."
Again the young man flushed.
“It isn’t as If I were useless," he
muttered. “You will And that I can
work like a horse. Til do anything
I’m told.”
“Anything?” Campbell spoke with
sudden meaning.
“Anything,” the caller replied
without hesitation.
The keen blue eyes of his host
remained on his face.
“I see that you are at least In
earnest," he conceded.
“It’s a matter of life or death
with me, Mr. Campbell,”
j Campbell hesitated.
"I might ask you to do some odd
things,” he hinted—“things you
would not understand at first. The
situation here Just now Is a trifle—
ah—abnormal. And I might not be
able to explain for a few weeks eer
tain matters not clear to a new
comer.”
“I rather expect that, from a re
mark or two that Doctor Stanley
dropped.”
“And are you sure the kind of re
sponsibllity that attends working
for another—perhaps more or less
In the dark—would not worry you?"
the old man asked curiously.
u Not a bit. You see, someone
else Is responsible for me, and I am
certain of a bed, a roof over my
head, and enough food to fill my
stomach. I am”—his head dropped
tinder the humiliation of the admls
slon—“at the end of my resources”
“Your family—” Campbell began ’
after a moment’s silence
“So far ns I know I have not a
relative In the world But “3 Doctor
Stanley knows who " 1
were”
“Humph !” The word sounded un
gracious ; it was merely thoughtful.
“Doctor Stanley told me you real
ly needed a secretary," Renshaw
went on. He thought there was no
doubt you would give me a job. but
he was not sure that you would buy
me.”
Campbell grimaced. “Oh he
wasn't—wasn't he? Confound him !”
The last words broke from his
lips before he could check them. He
tried to drown them in a cough, but
the visitor heard. For the third
time he flushed, this time deeply
and unbecomingly. Simultaneously
as if moved by a spring, he rose.
“Mr. Campbell,” he said formally,
“I hope you will forgive me for
troubling you. I realize what an
unpardonable nuisance I have been
and how wild my scheme must have
sounded to you. A doctor, of course,
would understand. Very few lay
men dould. I am grateful for the
time you have given me, and I will
not ta«e any more of It. Good
night.
He held out his hand, and the
somber veil on his face lifted a
trifle. After all, this would settle
things and he would not have to
plan again!
"Walt a minute. Don’t be In such
a hurry!”
Campbell's voice was almost peev
ish. He struggled up from hi*
chair, slowly and with much diffi
culty, til! he stood facing hi* caller.
He had Uked this young man's vale
dictory.
*« Walt a minute,” be repeated in
a different tone. “Do I understand
you to say that Stanley actualiv
approves of this mad notion of
yours?”
“Yes, sir. He thinks I would be
very useful to you. He repeated
that again and again. I think ao,
too,” Renshaw sedately added.
"How much salary do you want?
I mean—” Campbell corrected him
self, before the other could speak,
but 'dropped his serious tone—
“what price are you asking for thl*
—ah—purchase you suggested?”
price ‘Anything you choose. Fix the
yourself, and pay it in month
ly installments. If you like, or at the
end of the year. *»
Renshaw spoke indifferently, and
the dark vet! that had temporarily
lifted from his face again settled
there. So It wasn’t over, after all,
he was reflecting.
"Three hundred dollars, payable
in twelve monthly Installments of
twenty-five dollars each?
Campbell watched him closely HI
he spoke, but the caller’s expression
did not change.
“Anything you choose," repeated
the latter. “The only Important de
tail is that you make yourself re
sponsible for my support for a year
—as absolutely responsible,” he re
peated, as lf I were your prop
erty."
"We will say twenty-four hun
dred dollars,’ the old man amended
without explanation. “Will that
do?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The voice and manner of the
visitor were as unresponsive as be
fore.
“When do you want to begin?"
“Now—this minute.”
“Obi Then you came p re pa red
to stay?”
“Yes, air."
“Very well.” Campbell held out
his hand. Now, if you have no
deep-rooted objections to tea, we
will drink some, he added as he
slowly settled back into the big
chair. “And I, for one, am ready
for It! Buying a man. If you will
permit me to say so, I* rather an
exhausting business."
He rang the bell as he spoke, and
the complucent personality of the
servant who had admitted Renshaw
■ promptly Injected Itself Into
room.
‘JerAs,” said hls master,
tea, and tell Miss Campbell when It
Is here. And by the way, Jenks—”
lie stopped (he man on the way
the door, and turned to
“Did you bring any luggage?”
A bag. It Is In the hall.”
Campbell spoke to the butler:
“Take It up to the north
Renshaw, who is my new
will use that room—unless,
he has tried it, he prefers another.
Jenks left the room. He had
spoken, . and . . he did
Renshaw; not glance
but to the young
every line of hls erect figure
veyed an august disapproval.
? few b « was back ln
ly ■■rotation with a
which he rolled up to the fire.
muitaneously the door from the
re °P* ned an<1 a girl came la
; 8b ® wa * young, and not
TOOre ‘ban twenty-two, he
^ 8 elanc *- and very lovely.
h *ir and her eyes were darker than
M* own, but soft and holding an un
wpocted expression of melancholy,
every line of her face and tig
u re showed pride and spirit, and
*be , walked with the gait of
She a young
em P r *«s came directly to the
aide of the old man, kissed the top
°* hl ® head with precision, and
turned her unsmiling eyes on the
visitor as he was presented.
“Verity, my dear,” Campbell was
*aylng, “this Is Mr, Renshaw, who
Is *«lng to look after my corre
spondence, and see that I get to
bed at ten - an< l rule me generally
with * rod of Iron. But I warn you,
Renshaw, that my granddaughter
will hardly tolerate another tyrant
ln tbe house. To order me about Is
her pet privilege.”
Renshaw bowed silently before
fhe girl, met for an Instant the dl
roct regard of her proud eyes, and
In that instant realized that she did
not like him. He accepted the dls
covery with Indifference. The Ilk
ing or disliking of others was un
Important. But, as he took the cup
of tea she poured for him, he un
expectedly met the gaze of another
P«lr of eyes—and the expression
of these he could not so casually
dismiss from his mind. They were
11,6 eye8 °f J«nks, the butler, and
held a message that was as
clear as It was unpleasant—a roest
Ba f*‘ °f intense and open antag
on!sm -
While Campbell chatted with his
granddaughter, tossing an occa
stonal sentence to his new property,
’J be ohn was Renshaw ab sently stared stirring. Into the In tea his
H 0 *’ 1 * 18 ' P a »t ra «ny human beings
Uked h,m - and a few had disliked
hlm ’ But ns fnr 88 he knew none
bad repudiated him at the first en
counter 80 warmly and so obvious
,y ns MiS8 Verlty Campbell and her
but,er ba «l done.
why hud they repudiated him?
-
CHAPTER II
—
Along Comes Verity.
«TWTR. *vi. RENSHAW!”
Tea was over and Jenks,
again imperturbable, had trundled
away the tenwagon as tenderly as
If It held the family's heir. As It
was going, Campbell struggled out
of his deep chair and, standing with
his straight old back to the Are, ad
dressed his new property with
suave directness. Uenshaw shied
like a frightened horse, and none
of the three pairs of eyes watch
lug him missed the movement.
Campbell experienced a sense of
revolt, shot through with lrrita
tlon against Ids old friend and
physician. '
I. Confound it, how can this fel
low be of any use to me, when he’a
nervous as a cat?” he reflected. “It’s
going to be an Infernal nuisance to
have to consider him as if he were
a high-strung prima donna,”
But even as the thought went
through his mind, the new secretary
had recovered his poise and was on
his feet, obviously ready for instruc
tions
“Probably you would like to go
up to your room now,” Campbell
went on. In the suave voice that
was go much younger than hi*
your Journey. Jenks will show you
the way. We dine at eight,” he
added, as the young man followed
the butler, who had stopped at the
sound of his name.
Wlien the door closed upon the
two, Campbell drew a long breath
of relief.
*t My dear,” he fervently ejacu
lated, “I am beginning to think it
will be almost worth while to have
that fellow around for the sake of
! the frequent rapture of getting rid
of him. ■
Verity’s black eyebrows rose a
trifle. — _ Why did „ you engage him.
if you didnt want him? she asked.
Stanley wished him on me. The
whole episode is an amazing piece
of folly, and I am afraid I don’t
show- up in It any better than Stan
ley and Renshaw,” her grandfather
confessed with growing irritation.
He described his interview with
Renshaw, while Verity's expression,
incredulous at first, changed to one
of deepening interest and perplex*
ity.
You don’t Imagine there Is some
tbl "f. ba< ;, k df ' t? " 8he 8 '<’Y ly "f
hnn» .nH A ^ effort t0 *** nt0 the
•• No no I” h h*»r ?I* tra “ df ? tb * r testUy
>r U k™w P0, * Zt
n
h) 1 !? ;vTeX ' ity 8p0 ^ e almost under i to
j her k breath, *n i. her Imagination ctr
|ij“® Itles of 'T' which 1 ® v-rtou. she had dark heard pos8lbll- and
»•« -r— «.
! to Lnow kl ! 0W er I« *’ t "wh wbat 'c*' ",* olnk to .bap- 'I ant ,
pen P „ to me under this absurd ar
rangement. I can t Imagine why I
let myself in for It. For a sde
ond or two I thought I saw a way
believe "f Will work * wf A - " ^He
broke i off. * ... I suppose the fellow , ,,
hax^aome Not a magnetism, particle.” Verity he ended- spoke
with conviction. “In fact, it’s tbe
other way around. There’s some
thing almost repellent in him, some
thing a little—oh, whnt is the word?
Something unhuman. He Is un*
usually handsome, of course; there's
even a certain nobility about hi*
head and face. And yet, he’s like
■ a ghost. Yes. that’s what I am try
ing to get at,” she added, with quiet
satisfaction. “He looks at ua a*
the dead might look lf they came
back—a* If he had passed through
existences and experiences we could
never understand and could not even
dream of.”
“No doubt he hns,” the old man
conceded. “He affects me like a
human draft. But we must not let
our Imaginations run away with us.
If he Is too depressing, we will get
rid of him; I’ll ship him off and
make him useful somewhere else.
He’s got to do what I tell him and
go where I send him. And now
let’s forget the fellow and go on
with that book you were reading. - <
Upstairs, ln the chamber to which
Campbell had sent him, Renshaw
was doing some thinking of hls own.
Hls first impression was that It was
oddly remote from other rooms.
Only one additional door opened
from the narrow corridor he had
traversed. The second reflection.
as Jenks turned the knob and stood
back to let him enter hi* new quar
-fora was that the room was
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Page .. 0
..........-....... ......
j ^—-% Our Daily SM f
She Had Played a
Desperate Game
By MARTHA WILLIAMS
. “Where’s Mahomet? The moun
lain has come to him 1” Lltay
laughed, peering at the gate where
big Joe Dallet was getting down
from a horse,
“Mahomet never wore go-a-riding.” a petticoat
—nor the mountain
Elsie said, looking up. Litxy threw
q rose at her—It struck her ear.
nnd fell. As she stooped to pick it
up Big Joe strode up the steps, say
ing Joyously. “More ammunition—
if you want it 1" holding out a hug*
bunch of slightly wilted bright red
bloom. Lltzy snatched It and
hugged It to her, crying: “Oh, I
know you brought them for me!
See 1 My color 1” lifting them to the
level of her dark face. A thin faca,
lit by velvet-black eyes, and
crowned with rippling dusks of silky
hair. No wonder she bad taken Jos '
off hla feet completely. Teetering
upon the top step he said plaintive
ly : “Who wants to help me out of
a bad pickle? You first ‘LI*—youY*
same as home folk*, am Lltsy’s
company.”
■ Not here!” Elsie *ang. “Don’t
catch me putting tny head In any
hornet's neat, until I’m sure Its
empty. »»
u Coward !’’ Lltzy ejaculated scorn
fully: “But—I’m ready. Spill your
trouble, Joey.”
"Hasn’t got any first—all I know
lf > the Inst," Joey moaned, sinking
ponderously to the floor. “It’s this
way—my Cousin Bill Bentley has
come on from state of Washington,
wife-hunting. He wrote me a spell
back to b “« y «nd do «orae tall
courting for hint-letter never came
—Just only him. Now, he vows he
must start back In three days—so
it’s up to me to rustle a bride for
hira ~ I give you two the first chance
—seeing we’re such good friends.”
“Does Bill look at all like you?”
L,t * y demanded,
Joey seemed pained: “Hasn’t
fc, ot a bit of Dallet favor,” he said,
“ Wbnt m “de y o« aak?”
*'0* ? thought maybe I’d like him
better than you," Lltzy retorted,
E l*le risi “g slapped her on both
rh , eeks with a rose—ever gently,
so
with a smile saying: “Mo
n °P°* y I s forbidden, Lltz. Don’t you
,blnk of swapping Joe for
“ uly ; umU 1 „ decide I don’t want
him.”
‘ Be rPady t0 d0 ,t ’” a* 1 * 1 Master
Joey T ’ He 8 comtn * here inside
tw ,?J! ty I l* lni i te8
18 bc brought a ring, I won
de . (/ „ Lltzy , speculated,
Jo< * “«*ded : % solitaire—make*
y °u wink like the zotao look
* au a ^ or( * *°
. kltzy askea.
^ R *
stamp * of the foot. “You mercenary
««!• *»»•* I I accept Billy sight un
Joe ^ ,lst t0 8ave blm trma
tnl ? 8Can, P- »»
, ^
•Ta'nkv^arilna!" he
both ways. You’re aafe for at least
five years—can’t worry Bill Into the
grave In less time—and by then I’ll
be so broken to harness you can’t
drive me Into any sort of foolish
ness.”
“It’s the other way round—I’ve
always been saving you from fool
ishness,” Elsie said, wheeling upon
him, her eyes suddenly stern. “And
I shall do It one last time, no mat*
ter what you think of me for doing
it"
How?” Joey asked, hi* mouth
setting hard.
. ' “R y telling yon not to marry my
cousin Lltzy.” Elsie said evenly.
. ! “She cares not a rap for vou—but
a lot for your possessions. You are
charmed, aa a bird I* charmed—
brenk away while yon can.”
“Thank you Tor nothing,” Joe an-
lhid. big
enough and, I hope, man enough to
decide for myself. If Lltzy will bat
take me I shall l>e happier than a
king. Jlow about It?” turning to
the slim girl whose eye* were brood*
ing and cloudy
But she lifted them, put her hand
,n bis and said slowly; “Maybe.”
And then like a human thunderbolt
old Bill Bentley waa upon them—
ttAAS&SLZ tbffi» b
n a
t o uching
row |y at the two young women—hi*
p VP . n ntrpr !nc nn pi.Ip of*.- .
while returning furtively to Lltzy.
R u t then Joe put hi* arm about her,
zgg&tJ&bXiJSS ,ate Proposed Just
me - as you were
coming In—now well run away to
the garden, and let yon other* aeo
w hat you make of each other.”
it-BlUy^mfwYt jS**! that^en!
return * d ’ * ay,n S : n ’ oa ’ r « •
business man I see, Joey—we’re go
ing to be married day after toraor
row, and start weat rigbt «way—«l
bought the car specially for that.”
joe staml. but said the proper
things. Lltzy smiled—and stared
hard at Billy. He waa fumbling In
hls pocket—swiftly he flashed from
it a splendid winking diamond and
tried to put It upon Elsie’s Anger
She waved It aside, saying: “Not
yet,” but smiled at him. He
shrugged, but made no protest
Things were going to suit him
That kept up—witness that an
hour before he was to marry parson.’ Elsie
he whisked Lltzy away to the
married her out of hand, and set
forth for hls home. Elsie drew a
| 0 ng breath of relief—she had
played a desperate game—and won.
Lltzy had yielded to the charm of
forbidden fruit. A* for anything to
come later—at least hope remained in
—hope that a year later flowered
making her Joe’s beloved wife.
(CopyrigntA
CAUSE AND EFFECT.
Neighbor: Really, your family
is very musical. It must be a
source of great pleasure to you.
Your youngest son a cornettst.
both daughters pianists and your
wife a violinist. Now are
'
yon ? m
:
Mr. Petite: I’m a pessimist. S»1