Newspaper Page Text
FLOWEIS
Atlanta, Ga., Week Ending April 8§ 1905.
VOLUME XLIII-NUMBER SIX.
A Tale of Intrigue,
Love and Mystery in
the Metropolis of the
World / / .*•
The Scarlet Bat,
| By |
| Fergus Hume, Author of ■ if
3 “The Mystery of a Hansom Cab,” |
| “The Golden Idol,” Etc |
^ TTTT TTTTTTTt▼▼TTTtttTTTTTT^
about twenty years of age, but might
have been even younger. Apparently she
had all the unappeasable curiosity of
youth, for her dark eyes roved round
the theater with great eagerness. Finally
they rested on Frank, and she flushed
when she found he was gazing directly
at her. First she looked away after the
manner of girls, then she stole a stealthy
glance at the rude young man, and final
ly became engrossed in conversation with
the elderly lady who was her companion.
Frank still looked. He was most polite
to the sex, but this face interested him
so much that he stared almost rudely:
Twice their eyes met, in spite of Mias
Starth's ostentatious indifference. She
colored, and he—to his astonishment—
likewise blushed. There was something
about her which took his heart by storm.
To be sure he was susceptible where a
woman was concerned, but it seemed
absurd to be fascinated by a girl arter
a few league-long glances. Still, she
was distinctly agreeable to him. Fairy-
Fan he admired after the manner of
youth, but she was a pink-and-wite doll
beside this glorious creature who looked
like a queen. Where could his eyas
have been to admire the fragile charms
of Miss Berry, when true beauty was to
be found alone in a stately brunette with
colls of shining hair, and eyes like fath
omless lakes in the starshine. Fan had
been Frank’s Rosaline; this vision of
loveliness was his Juliet, which means
in plain English that he had fellen in
love at first sight. But, as he assured
himself calmly, such a passion was at
once ridiculous and impossible. All the
same he continued to "behold vanity, '
until hls .divinity grew really angry. an<*
concealed herself behind-an envious cur
tain, which shielded her beauty. At once
Lancaster became aware of his bad man
ners. t
- ’Slang lift I should like to apologize,"
he. thought as Ms friends returned,,and
then coiMMtlfd dtsmaHv that v h.,d
mj/k&jQtp rtion with [tjfe
jHiftltar .of *RE9f5d, and that there kd|
Superlatively shady description. Been
|a South Sea blackbirding skipper from
‘the looks of him, and I expect he made
fhis money in that way. Ever met him?"
“Los Angeles, now I come to think of
Jit.” said Darrel.
Frank looked up uneasily. "Who is he,
anyhow?”
“Doift know,” responded the million-
sire. im]«rturbably. "He was running an
apple • orahard when I dropped across
nim. Clean, shot, too.”
Baird laughed. "Sounds like a retired
pirate of sorts. But he's on the square
now. He and Miss Berry have rooms
in Bloomsbury, and go to church and
have the entry of some decent houses.
Frank knows all about them.”
■’Only that she’s a nice woman and a
good woman, and that Berry Is a ruf
fian. He won't let Starth marry her."
'} "1 hope not.” said Darrel, darkly. ’Tve
knqwn Starth a long time, and he’s a
bounder. But he’s got an uncommonly
pretty sister, as beautiful and sweet-tem.
pered as he Is the reverse. Hush! Let's
wtfck to tlie play; we’re talking too
the most critical of men, thought so,
"Ripping girl Miss Starth.” said he.
”1 didn't notice." grunted Lancaster,
not wishing to have Baird know, too
much, by reason of that gentleman’s long,
long tongue. He might repeat things to
Starth, who could find offense every
where.
The second act requires no description.
It was like the first, but slightly mors
incoherent. Fairy Fan had it all her own
way, as the low comedian bad not yet
had time to Invent Ills part. When the
curtain fell on a pronounced success,
with Fan standing in the midst of flow
ers. Baird bustled out to the bar again
with Darrel and his chum. It was to
discuss the prospects of the play that
they went.
Frank did not notice that the neat man
with' the light eyes was following them.
He was taken up with the weather-beaten
Berry, who rejoiced over the triumph of
his niece. This gentleman was a small
man. and had a hard face that might
have been .hewn out of iron wood. His
lips were lightly closed, 'his eyes were
gray and close-set, and he carried him
self in a bouncing, aggressive way. which
must have cost him many a fight in the
Naked Lands where bounce is not ap
proved of. Berry—Captain by courtesy-
looked quite out of place amidst civil
ized surroundings. A pea jacket, a tar
paulin hat, a streaming bridge and a
rocking, plunging tramp ship'would have
been morl In keeping with his piratical
appearance. Why such a Captain Kidd
should accompany his niace to London and
play the part of a sober citizen puzzled
a great many people. Baird among the
number. But Banjo Berry—such was Ms
odd name—alway* explained profusely,
having no"call to do so. Whereby the
more astute assumed, and not. unrea
sonably. that he had something to hide.
•'Well.” said this mariner, gaily. ”1
guess tbs play's a go.” „ .
"A great,, success,” said Frank, so ln-
differeffRj- Jhat. the little than looked at
-btojtiarply. Lancaster' was wont to'be
{faMlHnlljihusiantic where Fairy Fan was
$f£!9he- sang ijtm chanty wall,” he iw-
l ‘l»SMBfed':.«followlng them to tl»e bar.
y flnSujgMifs," assented Ianintster.
"Sent him Youts Isa tfi* of sorts.” re
plied Berry, still ‘ puzzled. • "1 gueit
he'll wake up and apologize tomorrow
morning.”
“Not to me," said Frank, aggressive at
once, in spite of the charming sister. “I
hulc. “I think you'd better get home.
Frank.”
The other stared at a poster which an
nounced that a new musical comedy
would be nroduced that night at the
Piccadilly theater, with Miss Fanny Tait
in the chief part.
"I'm not going till I sec her.” he said,
pointing to this name.
"What. Fairy Fan? Why, all the row
was about 'her.”
' Because he abused the woman. She's
■1 good sort, and I Mite her very much.
You^ know I do, but there's no love."
"Not on your part, perhaps, but Starth
loves her, and you knocked him down."
t wish I d killed him,” said Lancas
ter. between bis teeth.
"Don't talk rashly. Frank,” said the
other, with uneasiness. “If anything
goes wrong with Starth, you'll get into
trouble.**
"Malice aforethought.” said Lancaster,
carelessly. "Pshaw! the man isn't hurt.
He'll be up and swearing before the plav
begins.”
It seemed that he was right for a tall,
bulky, dark man approached with a
smite "Starth’s all right,” said he. with
a nod. "You've swelled his eye a bit.
Frank, but that's all. Berry’s going to
put him into a hansom. And now we'd
theater, and tonight was her first ap
pearance in the "'Seaside Girl.” Hence
the large audaflefe and the subdued ex
citement. At trie present moment sfce
was dancing like a fay and singing like
a lark, but the three men nevertheless
talked all the time.
“Jolly little thing, ain't she?" said
Dicky. "She comes from file California
Slopes."
' Did she pick up those diamonds
there?" asked the dark man. who was a
Rhodesian called Darrel, and acquainted
with stones of price.
.“No. Banjo Berry, who is her uncle,
gave them to her. He’s a rich man and
showers money on his niece."
“Why does he let her appear on the
boards, then?" asked Darrel, heavily.
“Ask Frank here. He's a friend of
Berry’s.”
"I'm not." growled Lancaster, stli! ruf
fled by his late encounter. “I can't bear
the creature. His niece is worth a doz
en of him.”
"Is she his niece?” questioned the Rho
desian millionaire.
“Ye*. There's no doubt about that. I
respect Miss Berry Immensely.”
"I thought her name waa Talt”
“On the bills. In private she's Miss
Fanny Berry. Her uncle I§ rich, but. in
spite of that, she's so vain that she likes
to appear on the stage. 1 like her.
CHAPTER I.
Sowing the Wind.
00/000000 SAY you’re a bad lot.'.”
| *«J “And I reply that you're
a liar!"
"Take that!"
B Here's the repayment!”
The man who had spoken
first went down like a log.
He was a red-headed crea
ture, with a rasping voice
and an aggressive manner,
evidently one of those who
bullied Ills way through the
world, for want of a bold
spirit to stand up to him.
In this instance he found his match,
for tlie handsome face of the young fel
low he insulted was sternly set and con
siderably flushed. After the war of words
Frank certainly couldn't be accused of
chattering, as he was rather silent. Even
the rattling chorus, and the jokes of the
k(W comedian could not banish the frown
from his brow.
And he became aware
that a man was looking at him—a fair
faced. effeminate little man, with light
iyes and a deprecating manner. Lan
caster, in no very good! jtnper, scowled
it the man, who lmn .dlately turned
iway bis head. As he did so tlie first
let ended amidst loud applause.
"An eighttoeB months' run lf thc other
let is as silly.” pronounced Baird; "but
jho management won't keep Fan an .that
imp. She's at '-ipaklsh as a pat, and her
mole Is rich e gh to allow jier to snap
>en fingers i j Treasury,”
‘She is M. her,”
fc-y. boys,
"You’re In love with her,” contradicted
Baird.
"A trifle. Anyone would love such a
pretty woman. But I wouldn’t ask her
to marry me.”
“No. Starth will do that.”
"She won’t have him," said Frank,
snapplly, "Ha's a bad lot—
“A very 1 ‘sore lot at prWeat,” put-ln,
Baird.-smiling. ”
’Tt'z Mg own fault,” replied. Lancaster,
y***- "wsfcro, Jhave hne alar’. ' It's not
-Be^oae . he you are a riviiifni
the affections of Fairy Fan.”
"Riibblsti,. Dlclif-! Don't get that bee-
in your bonnet. sStarth can marry her
for all I care. I Merely admire her. and
came Into contact with her only when
Berry wrote asking if I could write her
a couple of songs. I came and saw,
and—”
•"And she conquered.” said DnrraL
"Who is Berry? I fancy I’ve met him
before. If he's the same man' he hasn't
any morals.”
"Well, say principles,” remarked Baird.
"Berry's a flery-tempered Tom Thumb,
who talks ’Amurican’ slang through his
nose concerning an interesting past of a
ered bead.
But the olhfte was ready. Ho
skipped aside, and the red-head met
the wood of the counter with a sicken
ing thud. This time he dropped insensi
ble. The sailor man knelt beside the
defeated. "I guess you'd hatter skip,
Lancaster,” said he. "Tou’ve done it
this time. An' the police are coming.”
It was nort the police, but the attend
ants who forced their way through the
crowd in the bar. seeing this. Lancaster's
friend, by name Dicky Baird, and by
profession an idler of the West End.
seized his chum's arm and dragged hint
a!though Dicky fetd’kh+wn hJni for some
t ears, he was not alvare of his pirtvate
history. Lancaster Eept fpat to hlmseif,
and seemed unnecessarily annoyed by the
question of Baird- Dicky could see notht
ing in Starth’s remark which should lead
to a free tight, though to be sure Fairy
Fan's name had likewise beat mention
ed. However, Frank seemea lndisposod
to speak, aiid like a wise wjk.n Baird
held his usually top-free tongue.
Miss Tait, commonly kqewn he Fairy-
Fan was a popular music tiall star, who
danced gracefully and sang sweetly. For
a salary largely in excess of her mer
its she had deserted the halls- for the
Starth agalm'-'.lj«|flK,MM<! Hjtoflt. «. M
"To fetch Mdi BMBBBBUfciMtsSwk' JMwW
design. ’’YoiMff sfftta** »ox,
old lady—Yje ' JfO '. , -V'V
"What Jir pretty skid 4»« frtyo-
tops Dicky, and -Marted. T Y
Lancaster raiszi^Bs glasses j£ather cu
rious to see wh£& Ales Starth was like.
He beheld a slender, dark .gin, as unlike
her brother as (ioesjble. Plainly dress
ed In some gangy-stuff, with a string ot
seed pearls round Ji%r neck, she looked
JtWiSSWfTy -openly appffifgd. r th#
igfeung' mait'z good looks an<n|M^tlRe taj-’
enif. Bit even before Fairy’ Fan 'iap-’
pesred to enchant a London public,
St»rU. and Lancaster had never been able
.tp ‘meet without snarling at one another
like dogs. Frank'was not to blame, be
ing good natured 'and much too indolent
to fight. But Starth snapped at every
one. That he should have so charming
a sister was extraordinary. Even Dicky,
CONTINUED ON LAST PAGE.
Copyright, 1904.
“You said, then It would.”
“But I have looked it over since and
do not believe it is genuine. I should
think any one would be ashamed to give
a;i Imitation,” she addded with some
thing like a flash In her blue eyes.
"It was a shame." Tom admitted, "a
tin-dollar strain for a two-dollar plate."
But Mrs. Porter merely raised her
eyebrows at this rather mean remark.
"The Tad-Wallington dance is to
night. isn’t it? Do you want to go to
that?” Tom asked.
"No, I'm not going.”
"If you do,” Tom went on. "I will
take you and cut out whatever Evan
wants—
"No. I don't care to.” she repeated.
"You can go to the otner if you want to.
I am not going to say any more on the
subject. I do not ask you to humor my
little whims, hut I wanted to say what I
did before you telephoned.”
Mrs. Porter looked at her husband with
such a wistful, pathetic little smile that
Tom came over and kissed her on the
cheek.
••I'll not go.” he exclaimed, "if that is
what he wants. I'll stay at home with
you.”
“You are too good. Tom. I suspect l
am silly, but it seems so wicked. Now
j-ou had better call him up.”
When Tom got upstairs, he placed the.
receiver to his ear. , .
Telephone: (“Number?”!
Tom: “Give me seven-eleven, please.”
(“Seven-double-one ?">
”Y’es. please." Tom whistled while he
waited. •
Telephone: (“Hello.”'
"Is that you, Evan?”
("Yes. Hello. Tom. Say. Tom. I am
going to have a little bunch around -here
after a bit ti see If we can’t make our
books balance, and I want you to come.
And say, bring around that forty-five you
took away with you last time. We want
It. We are after you. We are going to
strip you. Perhaps you had better bring
an extra suit in a case.’’)
“I am sorry, old man. but I can’t
come ”
(“Can't what?")
"Cant come."
C‘ 'Y. you tight wad. You'd better
come.”)
“Can't do it. Andy. Fm sorry.”
(“Are you going ito the Tad-Walling
ton dance?")
“No. not that. Mis'es doesn't want to
go. but I simply can't come.”
Sarcastically. (“I guess the Mis’es shut
down on this, too.”)
■ “No, I’m tired ”
(“Well; maybe we’re not tired—of you
taking money away from us. And now
when we’ve all got a -hunch that j-ou
are going to lose you get cold feet.")
“No. I’d like to, but I just can’t.”
(“Well, admit, like a man. It’s the
Mis’es said no and I'll let you off.”)
“Are you a mind-reader?”
("No, but I’m married. )
"You win.”
("Well, I’m sorry you can't be with
us. Christmas will be coming along bye
and bye, and you will need the money.”)
"I expect.”
(“Mis'es will want a present, and she
ought to let you get a little more ahead.")
"That's true,”
(“Well, so long. Toast your feet be
fore you go to bed. And perhaps you
had better put a cloth around your
neck.”)
"Here, don’t rub it In. It hurts me
worse than you."
("All right. I know you are as sorry
as we are., I know how it is. My Mis’es
will be at home next week and this will
be the last pne, so I wanted you to come.
Goodby.”)
"Uoodby. Oh, say! Wait a minute.
I've got an idea.”
(“Good; use it.")
“Wait now. Wait now. X am think
ing. ' Tom was trying to recall if he had
closed the parlor aoor when he came
upstairs. "Yes, i ihmk I did.”
0 1.UDK you aid wool?")
"Noimng. i wasn t talKing to you. 1
was thinking. Say, put your ear close
to the telepnone. I've got to talk low.
("Why. 1 have the thing right against
my ear anyway. What are you talking
about ?")
"Listen. This Js the scheme. I’ll come
if I can.” he whispered into the receiver.'
"I don't think the Mis’es wants to go to
the Tad-Wallington dance, and I'll work
it so that I shall go alone. If I succeed
I’ll be with you."
(“What? What's that?”)
“I say." he repeated more distinctly, “if
Mrs.. P. doesn't want to go to the cancs
I'll try to go by myself and sha! be
with you."
(“You say that you and Mr*. P an
going to the dance.")
"Oh, you deaf fool! No! I say Silt
if she doesn't go to the dance maybe I
s ball—be—wl th—you. ”
“Oh, pshaw. You know I despise her.
I never dance with her. No. I can't think
of letting you go on my account. And I
don't want my wife even to be seen at
the party of a woman who wear." such
dresses as she does. No! positively, i
can’t permit It."
“Well, it's as bad for you to go.”
“But one of us has to go to be decent.
It would be rude not to, and we cannot
afford to be rude even to the commonest
people.”
"I don’t want you to go unless I go with
you.” she said pettishly.
"It is not that so much. 1 do not want
us tb recognize her at all.”
"I am not going to even speak to her.
I will snub her. I will walk by her ana
not sec her. LwllI let her know that my
little wife doesn't belong to her class.
I’ll sliow her.”
“But, Tom. wouldn’t that be rtider than
not going at all?”.
“Oh. no. I don’t think so. By going
anfT snubbing her. It shows tknt you are
conforming to all the laws of poBteneps
without conceding anytlrng to wxntoh
impropriety. Y 4i’t £ou see?”
“Hardly. 1 ' '
“Well. It does. And f have to go toe
business reasons. I have her husbsiMjs
law business anMican't afford to lose It
not goli-g." r
“Wouldn't it make her husbaBKpagry
for you to snub her?" %
“Oh, no. it would rather please hMu '
He Is inclined to be Jealous, and likes the
men better who don’t have anything to
do with? her. It would strengthen our
business relations immensely.”
"Maybe you are right," she added with
resignation. "Y*ou lawyers have such-pe
culiar arguments that I can’t understand
them.”
"Yes. I know. Law iz the science of
reasoning—ahem—of getting at the fine,
subtle points which other people cannot
"Well, go, if you really think R is
best.” she said at Inst.
Tom tied a black bow around his collar
and put on his tuxedo.
"Oh. Tom, what do you mean? Sou
surely do hot intend to wear your tuxedo
and a-black tie. I beard you say it was
the worst-tof form at anything but a
men’s l»irt5\”
"Oh, ah. did I? Well, maybe I did. I
had forgotten. I became a little confused
“("Oil, I understand you. Good. If you
are as clever as you are at getting every
one in against a pat full-house you wl,*
succeed. Come early. . Luck to you.
Goodby.”)
If Tom were right in thinking he had
closed the parlor door he was consid
erably surprised and flustered to And. it
ajar when he came down stairs. But
Mrs. Porter was still reading the evening
paper and did not look as if she Jiad
been disturbed by the telephoning. There
was a slight flush on her cheeks, how
ever. that he had not noticed before,
but that may have been / ssed by the
noble sacrifice of his owajf Ws for hers.
"I am glad, Tom. you <0ia him you
could not come," Mrs. Porter said, look
ing Li. him affectionately. “It is good
of you to give up to my little whims.”
Tom said mentally: “I guess she did
not hear It all, at least.”
_ f ”I know,” she went on, "that I was
brought up on a narrow plane, and any
sort of gambling seems wicked.”
’’But at first you would not play cards
at all, and then you learned euchre. All
games of cards look alike to me.”
“I suppose they do. but euchre Is a
simple, interesting pastime; whist 1« a
scientific—a—a—mental—exercise, develop
ing the mind, and so forth, while pokeM
cheats people out of their money j/T
least, they lose money they ought Po
use other ways-rt)r else they win sonce
and then have 111-gotten gains, which is*
worse.”
"But poker ts a great nerve developer,”
Tom protested feebly.
"But it’e gambling.”
"Well, how about playing euchre for a
prise T’
"Oh. we settled that wMle ago.” Mrs.
Sorter exclaimed. ’T Viewed you the dif
ference between the two, didn’t I?”
"1 believe you did. .But don’t you w.;nt
to go to the Tid-WsiHngton dance?”
"No,” Sirs. Porter skid shortly.
—Did you send cards?”
"NO— V f
•TTou should have done so. shouldn't
you?’’.. '
”1 suppose So.'but I don't care—
“Why don’t you want to go?"
"I don't Hhb {Mrs. Tad-Wallington. She
v ears her dresses too low.”
“Maybe she does, but I think we
should M polite to her.”
“I dew’-* -Carr very much whether we
are os fiot—
“I tbtt>k Wb ought to go. Or else." he
added In an afterthought with the ex
pression of a martyr, “or else I ought to
go and take your regrets.”
"Well, why don’t you do that?" Mrs.
Porter exclaimed brightly.
“All right, I will!” he almost shouted.
“I'll do — I think it's the decent thing
to do. I'* v>t ready right away.”
“Right .low? Why, It's entirely too
early. It's only half-past seven. You can
stay here until ten, then go for a few
minutes and be back by eleven.”
"No, no. that would not be nice. That's
not the way to treat people who have
gone to the expense of giving a dance.
Everybody should go early and stay
late.”
"Oh, absurd.”
**No, it's decent. I think I had better go
early anyway, and then I can get back
earlier. I don’t want to stay up too
late.”
"Well. If you insist, go on.”
Tom vfent upstairs and began dressing
hurriedly. He knew he would not feel
safe until he was a square away from-
the house. If this was to be the last of
these bully, bachelor, poker parties he
did not want to miss it. His wife was
the sweetest little woman on earth, and
he delighted in. being With her, and hu
moring her, but then a woman’s view of
life and tilings is often so different that
there is a joyous relaxation in a man
party. If ha could dress and get away be
fore his wife changed her mind all
would be well. He put his clothes on
feverishly, but before he had half fin
ished he heard her running up the
stairs, and his heart sank- She came
w !th the step that. indicated something
important on her mind- He knew as well
hew she looked as if he -could see her
coming. She was humped over slightly,
her head was down, both hands grasping
her skirts in front, and her feet fairly
glimmering at the speed she was com
ing.
She burst into the room . ‘Tom, I tnink
I will go with you. It is mean of me to
make you so alone.”
‘‘Top think what? You can’t, it’s a
men s party. Oh, you—’Yes, nos. it’s not
mean. I don't mind It a bit. I like to go
alone—that is, I don’t mind it. and I
won’t-hear to your putting yourself ou*
on my account. And then you know.
Mrs. Tad-Wallington wears her dresses
so disgustingly low.”
“That’s it. Tom. That’s why I think I
ought to go."
did not but lie
said for you to call him
<ts soon as you ..came home.
I forgrot to tell you.” Mrs.
Porter paused a-id finger
ed her paper with pm*
barra^sment^ ‘ Tom.’’ she began again,
“if It is another of these men parties he
has been having since his wife has been
away, I wish you wouldn't go.”
“Why r.ot, dear?”
“I don’t think they are very nice.
Don’t they drink a good deal?”
“Some men will drink a good deal any
way—anytime. but those that don’t want
to do not.”
“Tom. do they”—Mrs. Porter’s eyes
were on the paper in her lap—“do they
play—play poker?”
“Why what made you ask me that
question?” Tom answered with some em
barrassment.
“Mrs. Bob Miller said her husband
told he*- they did.”
”Nol>*l.v but Mrs. Miller wouid believe.
a!l that Bob says.”
“But you know it is wicked to
gamble?”
course it is. to gamble for any
\xt0ma. but just u little game for amuse
ment. that's not bad.”
f ‘‘How much does any one win or
lose?”
"Oh. just a few dollars.”
“That would buy a dinner for several
poor families that need it: hut the worst
of it is the principle; it Is gambling, no
matter how little is lost or won.'
"But. dear, you brought home a ten-
dellar plate for a card party the other
afternoon."
“That is different. One is euchre, the
other is poker.”
• “I see there is a difference: but
wouldn't the plate have bought a few
dinners?'’
'Tes. but If I had not won it some
one else would. And it was too late to
spend it for charity. I don’t believe it
cr*st ten dollars anyway.**
'V