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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