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) > r HE FLOWERS CO! IlCOnv VOLUME XLW-NUMBER THIRTY. Atlanta, Ga., Week Ending October 6, 1906. 50c PER YEAR—SINGLE COPY 5c. (St DOUBLE TROUBLE: Tale of Dual Identity (EX 15he Wierd Occult > • • ••• • ••• • *•• • • ••• • ••• # ••• • • ••• • ••• • ••• ••• • *•* • •< ► • •«. • ••• • • .*• • •*. • .*• 4 »*©••*# (’opvriplit., 1SM)6, By KEBB2ET QUICK. SYNOPSIS u -Merrill Co. < o,. °r* ! r- OK PR K VIOl TERS. Kloiian Amidon, a prosperous yours bachelor living in a town in One middle west, leaves a train at a small wayside staid!! on the evening of June 27. (896. to: a backwoods hunt: lie dozes on the station platform. In his next consciousness ■ho tinds himself plunged from the upper berth of a sleeping ear to the aisT. In- i,uiry reveals the faet that he is on a tl . ; ,in ett route to New York. It develops he has become suddenly and mysteriously endowed with the personality of Eugene I; i.isstield, :t steel magnate, and that time, during a period unaccounted for. Dias advanced to January 8- 1901 Ar- r'ving in New York, he visits a psychol ogist and clairvoyant—the latter a beauti ful woman -In search ot light on the mys tery He is put into a hypnot.c sleep, a thorough men.al examination made, awakened, told to sleap late the next and return fot a verdict. mot mug •if the char? fielded pay. VII. ENTER THE LEGAL MJNIl. 'rite need of lucre never looms so large \ s when tis gotten in some devious way: 1 • mitigates the blackness That every nether level Tile man who dares e’en to the prison’s Should bring hack what he went for— or should stay! yho nee<J of lucre never loom? As when 'tis SToite way. i the some > large devious yjen can overlook the targe. If from its boss stain u the jewel shoots -ts Or blood upon the pirate’s sable barge overed by silks’ and satins bright ar ray— The need of lucre nc when ’tis gotten in some devious As way. ver looms so large a some deviot —Rondels of the Curb. ORNING passed to noon, and the day aged into aft ernoon. before Amidon rose from the deep sleep which (according to Le Claire's prediction) followed his evening with her and the professor. With that odd sense of bewilderment which the early riser feels at this violation of habit, he went into the cafe for his belated breakfast. Im patient to finish the meal so that he might haste to the ipromlsed interview, he studied the menu, and witii his eye scouted the room for a waiter- failing to bestow even the slightest glance on a man seated opposite. This faet. 'however, did not prevent the stranger from scrutinizing Amidon’s face, his dress, and even his hands, as if eac-u minutest detail were vitally important. He even dropped his napkin so as to make an excuse for looking under the table, and thus getting a good view of b lorian s boots. "Finally he spoke, as if continuing a broken-off conversation. "As I said a While ago," he remarked. "Browning fal] s short of being a poet, just as a marble-cutter falls short of be.ng a sculptor. You were quoting ‘Love Among the Ruins,’ as the train Stopped at Elm Springs Junction; or was it ‘Evelyn—’ ” Amidon’s eyes, during this apparently aimless disquisition, had been drawn from h-s meal to the speaker. He saw an el derly gentleman, clothed in the black frock-coat and black tie of the rural lawyer of the old school. His eyes shot keen and kindly glances from the deep ambush of great white brows, and his mouth was hidden under a snowy mousiaohe. His features made up for a somewhat marked pov erty of shape by a luxuriance of ruddy color, the culminating point of which was to be found in the broad and fleshy nose. His voice, soft and gentle when he be gan, swelled out. as he spoke, into some thing of Ihe orator’s orotund. When Amidon looked at him, the speaker re turned the gnzo in full measure, and leaning across the table, pointed his finger at his auditor, and slowly uttered the words, "—as—the train—stopped—at— Elm Springs Junction!” "Why. Judge Blodgett!” excla.imed Am idon. “can this he you?’’ "Can it he 1?" exclaimed the judge. "Can it he me! No difficulty about that. Never mind the handshaking jurf yet— after a while, maybe. When it comes to the can-it-be part, how about you? How about the past five years, and Jennie Baggs keeping a iplace for you every meal for all this time, up to the present hour? I tell you, Fiorian, letting me down in that case of Amidon versus Cat- terrnole. without a scrap of evidence, and getting me licked by a young prac titioner who studied in my office, was bad—was damnable; but an only sister, Fiorian! and not one word in five years!” "She’s well, then, Jennie is?" "She’s as well, Fiorian, as a, woman with the sorrow you’ve brought to her, nn i the mother of two infants, can be. But why do you ask?—why do you ask.’ —why is it necessary to go through the work of surplusalge of asking?" "Children, eh?” said Fiorian. "Good for Jennie! And how's Baggs?" "Oh, Baggs, yes—why, Baggs has come through it all with his health about un- imipaired, Baggs has! But no Bag'gs court of inquiry is going to switch in.' off the examination I’m now conducting: and I tell you, Mr. Amidon, yon can't dodge me. What double lite took you away from home, and property, and ev erything?" "Judge Blodgett." said Mr. Amidon, in that low voice which, with the English language as the medium of communica tion. is known as the danger-signal the world over, “the term ’double life' has a meaning which is insulting. Don’t use it again.” “Well. well. Fiorian." said the judge, evidently pleased, "sustaining the mo tion to strike that out, the question re mains. You aren't obliged to answer. y<5u know; but you know, too, what not answering it means." "Judge.” said Amidon, after a long pause, “to say that l don't know where I have been, or what 1 have been doing, since June twenty-seventh, 1896, until yesterday morning when 1 came to my senses in a moving sleeping car, won’t satisfy you; but it’s the truth.” The judge looked off toward the cell ing in the manner of a jurist considering some complex argument, but was silent. "Now I have found a way," said Ami don, "of having all this explained. Come with me, and let's find out. There may Ihe complications; I may need your help. You are the one man in all the world that I was just wishing for.” "Complications, eh?" said tne judge. "Well, well! Let us see!" And now he dropped into the old man ner so wei! known to his companion as his office style. Piece by piece he drew from Amidon his story. He dropped back to previous parts of the narrative, and elicited repetitions. He slurred over crucial points as if he did not see their bearing, and then artfully assumed mi nute variations of the tale, but was al ways corrected. "The prosecution is obliged to rest its case.” said be, at last. “You're not crazy, or all my studies in diseases of the mind have done me no good. Your story hangs together as no fiction could. To believe you, brands t:s both as luna tics. Come on and let's see what your mesmerist frauds have to say. As a specialist in facts. I'm a drowning man catching at a straw. Come on; mes merism. or astrology, or Moqui snake- dance. it’s ail one to me!’’ I'p the stairs again, this time with Judge Blodgett, warily snuffing the air, and shy of botli Bohemia and Benares. Into the presence of Madame lc Claire, now gowned appropriate!y for the morn ing. and looking—extraordinary, it is true, with her party-colored hair and luminous eyes—but not so jungly as when she greeted the despairing sight of Amidon the night before. “Madame, and sir." said the judge, "as Mr. Amidon’s friends and legal adviser, 1 am here to protect his interests.” “So! Goct!" said the professor. “Bud te matter under gonsideration is psychi cal. nod beguniary. Howefer, if you are interested in te realm of te suplirninal, if you care for mental science—” "Sir,” said the judge, "I may almost claim to be a specialist (so far as a country practitioner is permitted to specialize) in senile and paretic demen tia, since T had the honor to represent the proponents in the will ease of Snoke versus Snoke. But it's only fair to say that I regard hypnotism as humbug—only fair.’’ "Goot, goot!” said the professor de lightedly. "To tomonstrate to an honest ant indellichent skeptic, is te rarest of brifileehes. Ve vill now broceed to temon- strate. Here is our frindt Herr Amidon avokened in a car after fife years of lostness; he lias nnodder man's clotes, anodder man's dleket. letters—unt all. He gomes to Madame le Claire ant Bla- therwick. He is hypnotized out of te Ami don hlane of being, ant into anodder. He is mate to gife himself avay. Now ve vill broceed to dell aboudt his life since he vas lost—is it a dest, no?" "Huh!” snorted the judge. Go on." cried Amidon; "tell me. the story!" "Veil," said the professor, "for four veeks after you left Elm Springs Chunc- tion. you vandered—not, Clara?" "Wandered,” said Clara, “and to so many places that I can't remember them. Then you found oil. or traces of it—I can’t get that very plainly—on a farm at Bunn's Ferry, Pennsylvania; and bought an option on the farm. Then you opened an office in Bellevale, and have been there in the oil business ever "lie. ”How terpecti "H •‘I bcliev ha hr been doin’ financially?” in- the judge. i made a fortune." said Clara, him to be one of the principal n of the town, socially and in a busi- ;s way. He didn't tell me this, but think tlie circumstances sei m to indi- ■a te “To saircumstances," said the profes sor. filling a pause, “show it.” "How is it.” said the judge, "that no one lias ever heard of his Bellevale career out in Hazelhurst, if lie’s so prominent? We read, out there, and on-ce in a while one of us goes outside the corporation. "His name," said Madame lc Claire, "in Bellevale is not Fiorian Amidon.” "What is it?" cried Amidon. “Tell it to me!” Madame ie Claire restrained him with a calm glance. "It is Eugene Brassfield,” said she. "It is your own clotes.” cried the pro fessor gleefully, “your own dieket, -your own gorrospondenoe!" Amidon was feeling in his breast pocket for something. He withdrew his hand, holding in it a letter, and looked from it to Madame le Claire questioningiy. "Oh. yes!” said she. not quite in her usual manner, "it's yours. Tt's from Miss Elizabeth Waldron, of Bellevale, your affianced wife." “Aha!" said the judge. "Now will you get mad when I speak of a double life? Engaged, hey?” "I never saw the—the lady in rny life,” was the reply; "so how can I be—can I be—engaged to her?” "In te Amidon blane of gonsciousness," said the professor, “you are stranchers. In te Brassfield pairsonality, you are— Gott irn Himmel, you are stuck on her, stuck on her—not, Clara? Vas he not gracey? Only Clara cut it short in te temonstration; but as a luffer, in te Brassfield blane, you are vot you call hot stuff.” "You had better read the gentlemen your notes,” said Madame le Claire cold ly. ‘And please excuse me. I hope to seo you both again.” And with a sinuous bow she swept from the room. Blodgett, keenly analytical, lost no word of the professor’s notes. Fiorian sat with the letter from Miss Waldron in his hand, lost in thought. Sometimes his face burn ed with blushes, sometimes it paled with anxiety. His eyes ran over the Ietter^jfull of sweet ardors; and when he thought of replying to them—or leaving them un answered—his brow went moist and his heart sick. What should he do? What could he do? When they returned to the hotel, the judge was in a fever of excitement. "I tell you, Fiorian,” said he, "I be lieve the professor is right about this. It seems that there are precedents, you know—cases on all-fours with yours. U hen 1 went to the telephone, up there, I called up Stavy & Stacy's and asked em to get me Dun’s and Bradstreet s report on your Beilevale business. It ought to >be up here pretty soon. There may be something down there worth looking after, and needing attention." “Perhaps,” groaned Amidon. "Do you know that I'm engaged—” "One of the things I referred to." said the judge. "— to a lady, down there, whom I shouldn’t know If I were to meet her out in the hall? If I go back to Hazel- hurst, she is put under a cloud as a de serted woman—to say nothing of her feelings. And if I go back to Belle vale—my God, judge, how can I go back, and take my place in a society where every one knows me, and I know no body; and be a lover to a girl who may be—anything, you know; but who lias tile highest sort of claims on me, and a nature, I’m sure, capable of the keen est suffering or pleasure—how can I?” "Message, sir, from Stacy and Stacy,” said a messenger boy at the door. Judge Blodgett tore open the envelope, and read the telegraphic reports. “M—m—m Y'—e—es," said he. “It’ll take diplomacy, diplomacy. But, if these Fiorian, reports are to be trusted, and I guess they are, you've got about ten times as much as Bellevale as you have at Hazelhurst. And. as you say, the lady lias claims. As an honorable man—an engaged man, who has received the plighted troth of a pure young heart—and a good financier, this Belle vale life demands resumption at your hands. Prepare, fellow citizen, to meet the difficulties of the situation.” VIII. POISING FOR THE PLUNGE. Yea. ail her words are sweet and fair. And so. mayhap, is she; But words are naught but molded air, And air and molds are free. Belike, the youth in charmed hall Some fardels sore might miss. Scanning ids Beauty’s household all. Or ere he gave the xtss: —The Knyghte’s Discourse to his Page. Now it happened that at Bellevale, the young woman whom we—with the sweet familiarity of art—have had the joy to know as Elizabeth, moved about in un consciousness. mostly blissful, of the an nihilation of Eugene Brassfield. The mails might take to Mrs. Baggs at Ha zelhurst vague letters from Judge Blod gett hinting at clues and traces of Fio rian, preparatory to the restoration of the lost brother; but Brassfield, never anything but a wraitli from the mys terious caves of the subconsciousness, was nonexistent for evermore, except through the magic of Le Claire. But Elizabeth Waldron, just home from col lege. full of the wise unwisdom of Smith and twenty-three, and palpitating with tiie shock which had broken the cables by which sh% had so long, long ago moorerl herself in the safe and deep wa ters of the harbor of a literary and in tellectual celibacy, still dreamed of the bubble personality which had vanished, although at times waves of anxious un rest swept across her bosom. For one thing, that epistle of hers, made for his reading on the train—how could she have written i<t! Elizabeth's cheeks burned when she remembered it. Then she thought of the. weeks of ehas-e dalliance between her acceptance of him and his departure, and of Che elan with Which he had entered that safe harhor of bers and swept her from? those moor ings; and the letter seemed slight re turn for the rites of adoration he had performed ‘before her. But (and now t‘he cheeks burned once more) why, why had lie not written to her as soon as he reached New York? Was he one with whom It was out of sight, out of mind? Or was he one of (hose business men -who can not place anything more delicate than price-quota tions on paper? Or—and here the cheeks pa'cd—was lie suddenly ill? She wished, /-T all. that she had not. written i7' And one day, when a special delivery letter came and surprised her, she ran out In the winger sun to the summer house where she had sat so much with him. and read it in quiet. Whereupon the unrest increased, because the letter seemed as unlike Eugene as if he had copied it from some “Complete Letter Writer." Fiorian ha'i agonized over fhis letter- had even tried the experiment of writing one while In the “Chones hlane" under the influence of Madame le Claire; but It was too Incoherent for any use—and be had done the best he could. Pro fessor Blatherwick and Judge Blodgett were working out a code of behavior for Mr. Amidon when he should return to Bellevale. They kept him in the Brass- field personality' for hours every day; but such a matter as this letter to Eliza beth, he could not Intrust to them. Every day, though, he .looked into the varicol ored eyes of Clara and willed to sleep; and everv day the operation grew less and -less painful to him. Vast and complex was the system of notes built up by the professor and the judge. They ‘told him all about his ■ various properties and holdings of stoclt; they listed die clubs and social organiza tions to wljich he belonged, and the offices lie held in each. They made a directory of names mentioned by him in hU abnormal state, and compiled facts about each person. It must have been very much like Ithe copious information -elaborate, and the best thing possible in the absence of the real facts; but only' tlie reflection of these people in the mind of some one else, affer all. Finally the judge brought the whole to his friend, neatly typewritten, para- giaphs numbered, facts tabulated, and all provided with a splendid index and system of elaborate cross-references. ^ “You see. my boy," said Judge Blodgett, “ail any one really needs to know’ of bis surrounding* is actually very little. Other- wise, most .people never could get along at all. Neander couldn’t find his wav to market—the greatest philosopher of his time. Now these notes tell you more —actually more—of your Bellevale life, than some folks ever find out about them selves—with a little filling In, on the s(*'t, you know, why, they’ll do first rate. For instance, under 'S’ we have a man named Stevens. ‘Old Stevens’ you playfully call him. I figure him out to be an elderly man In some position of authority—he seems to sort of govern, things, even you. The professor thinks he's your banker, but Ills intellectual domination leads me Do the conclusion that he's your lawyer. There Is a Miss Strong, evidently an important person. I vcnture # the assertion that she's a liter ary' woman, as you, spe3k about asking her to ’look at her notes.’ I shouldn i wonder if she’s a rival of Miss Wal dron's. eh. professor?” "Well." said Amidon impatiently, "who else?” “Oh. lots of 'em,” answered the judge. “Here's ’A' for instance, and unde r it a man named Alvord—a close friend of yours ” "Th“ one this telegram is from.” said Amidon. “And I suppose this one in cipher is from Stevens, tlie lawyer or broker. It must be important.” “I shouldn’t wonder," said Judge Blodgett; “and tills Mr. Alvord I take to be a minister, for you connect him with some topic relating to ‘Christian martyrs’ and ’rituals.’ He must ho a close friend, for you sometimes call him ‘Jim.’ in strict privacy, I presume. Oh. there's a regular directory of ’em here. T'vo even discovered that you have a little friend, a child of say seven or cigh' years—tell by the tone, you know'— that you cal] ’Daisy’ an ( ] ‘Daise’ and some times ‘Strawberry.’ Tiiese fondnesses fo ( children and clergymen prove to me. Fio rian. that an Amidon is good goods on any confounded plane of consciousness von can. throw' 'em into—conservative, respeetahle. and all that, yon knoiyv. ’ Amidon looked suspiciously at the notes, unappeased by this flattery. What justi fication there was for suspicion we shall be better able to sa.y when we meet these Bellevale acquaintances of his “Is this the guide by which T am to regulate my 'conduct in Bellevale?" asked lie after looking it over. "Well.” said the, judge’ “it may' not be quite like remembering all about things; but anyhow’ It will help some, won’t it ?” "I suppose T’m to carry it with me, and when an acquaintance accosts me on the street. I’m to look him up in the index and find nut who he is, before T decide whether to shake hands with him or out him. am I?" “No; exactly that way.” said th" judge; “that wouldn’t be .practicable, you know; but it’s ten to one you'll find his name there. I DM! you, that compilation——’ "Te tifision into gategories.” broke in the professor, “according to te brincinies of lotchik was te ehutehe’s Itea. A von- derfully inchenious blan. It vill enaple you—" ■'Tins it any plan of reference?" inter rupted Amidon. "by which T shall be enabled to find out about a man when I don't know who he Is?” ”N no." “Or. in such a ease, to give me knowl edge of my past relations with him. or whether 1 like him or hate him?” "Of course.” said the judge, “we only- try to do the possible. The law requires no man to do more.” “Does this thing." said Amidon, shak ing it in evident disgust, "tell where I live in Bellevale, whether in lodgings or at a hotel, or in my own house? Could T take it and find my home?” "Damn it, Fiorian!” said the judge. "T'm not here to he jumped on. am I? No one can remember everything all tlie time. We'll get those things and put them into a supplement, you know’.” “Not for me." said Fiorian. “T've made up my mind definitely about this. T'il not depend on it. T f 1 go back to Bellevale, I must have at hand at all times the means of connecting things as I find them with the life of this Brassfield. T must take with me the bridge which spans the chasm between Brassfield and Amidon—I mean our friend Clara. Without her. I shall never go back T haven’t the nerve. I should soon find myself in a tangle of mistakes from which I could never extricate my self—T've thought it all out. The Cretan Labyrinth W’ould he like going home from school, in comparison." "Pshaw!" said the judge, looking lov ingly at Blodgett’s Notes on the Com piled Statements of Brassfield, “you could feel your way along very well— with these.” "Would you go into the trial of a case," said Fiorian. "no matter how sim ple. in which not nnlv your own future, hut the happiness of others, might he Involved, without even a speaking ac quaintance with any of the parties, or one of the witnesses? T tell you, judge, we must have Madame le Claire.” The judge rolled up the notes and snapped a rubber hand about the roll. He said no more until evening. "Then." said* he. ns if he had only Just made up his mind to concede the point, "let's <=»e if it can he arranged at once. Come over to the Blather- wicks’ with me.” "T think.” said Amidon slowly, "that I’ll see her alone.” "Alone, yes yes!” said the judge, changing an interjection into an assent. “By all means; by all means. ernry don’t you think there may be tliings-- down there needing attention. Fiorian— Money matters—and and other thirgs, you know, my boy—and that we ought' to he moving in the matter? I would respectfully urge," he concluded, using his orator's chest-tones to drown Ami- don's protest against Lis toking. "tint no time lie lost in deciding on our course.” The judge had noted the increasing dependence of his client on the fair hyp notist, ami the growing interest that she seemed to feel in him and therefore showed some coolness toward the pro posal to take her to Bellevale. The eyes inured to the perusal of dusty commen taries and reports were still sharp enough to see tlie mutual tenderness exchanged in the unwavering, eye-to-eye encounters whereby Amidon was converted into Brassfield, and to note the softness of the feline strokings by which Fioriain's catalepsy was induced or dispelled. He rather favored dropping the Blather- wick acquaintance; but he could not an swer Amidon’s arguments as to thei' need for its continuance. So it was that, about the time when. Elizabeth Waldron sat in the summer house at Bellevale, with tears of disap pointment in her pretty eyes, holding poor Florian’s best-he-vould-do but in effective letter all crumpled up in h -r hand, the tigrine Le Claire rested her elbows upon a window ledge in the at titude of gazing into the street (it was ail attitude, for she saw nothing), and was disturbed by Aaron, who brought in Mr. Fiorian Amidon’s penciled card. She gave a few pokes to her hair, of course, turned once or twice about before her mirror, and went into the parlor. "The judge and your father,” said Am idon, "have got up a wonderful guide from notes of this man Brassfield's talk." "Yes,” said she with a smile; “they are wonderful." "And perfectly useless." he continued, “so far as my steering by’ them in Belle vale is concerned.” "As useless,” she admitted, "as can bo. "You knew that?" he inquired. ‘Then why did you let them go on with it?” "That's good,” said she. "I like that! I was nicely situated to mention it, wasn't I?” "The fact is, Clara." said he, "as you can see. that I’ve got to have you at Bellevale. I shall not go down there without you. I can t do it. I've thought it all out—” "So have I," said she. "I knew that you'd have to have me—for a little while; knew it all the time. I was just think ing about it as you came up.” "Then can you—will you go?” “Can I stay, Fiorian?" she inquired steadily. “Can I leave you like a just- cured blind and deaf man, and my work for you only begun? I must go! We were just talking about our going to Bellevale. as you came in. papa. Mr. Amidon will need us for a while when he first gets there.” “Surely, surely," said the professor. "Te most inderestirag phaces of dis case vill arise in Bellevale. I grave to bri- fiietche of geepinig you unter my op- sairfation until—until te last dog is hunk! Let us despatch Chutche Blotchett to spy out te landt. In a day or two he van tiscofer vere dis man Brassfield lifes, vere te fair Fraulein Elizabeth resides, and chenerally get on to te logal skitiva- tion. He vill meet up with us at te train, and see that ve don’t put our foots in it. Ve vill dus be safed te mor tification of hating Alderman Brassfield. chairman of te street committee, asking te 'boliceman te vay to his lotching; or te fiance of Miss Valderiing bassiwg her on te street vit a coldt, coldt stare of unrecognition or embracing her young laty friendt py mistake. Goot! Let te chutche dake his tebarture fortwith. Clara and I vill be charmed and habby, my friendt, to aggompany you. Suplim- inaily gonsidered, it vill be great stuff. IN DARKEST PENNSYLVANIA. The good God gave hands, left and right, To deal with divers foes in fight; And eyes He gave all sights to hold; And limbs for pacings manifold; Gave tongue to taste both sour and sweet, Gave gust for salad, fish and meat; But, Christian sir, whoe'er thou art. Trust not thy many-chambered heart! Give not one how'r to Blonde, and yet Retain a room for the Brunette: Whoever gave each other part. Tlie devil planned and built the heart! —In a Double Locket. Clara. Amidon and Blatherwick were on their way to Bellevale. The professor was in the smoking car, his daughter and Fiorian in the parlor car. Amidon, his nerves strained to the point of agony, sat dreading the end of tlie journey, as one falling from an airship might shrink from the termination of his. Madame le Claire brooded over him maternally. “Of course.” said Amidon, "this Brass- field must have adopted some course of behavior toward Miss Waldron, when—” “You must call her Elizabeth,” said Madame le Claire, and—” “And what?” he Inquired, as she failed to break the pause. “Have you found out—much—about it—from him?” “Not so very much,” she replied, “only she'll expect such things as ‘dearest’ and ‘darling’ at times. And occasionally •pet' and ’sweetheart'—and 'dearie.' I can't give them all; you must extempo rize a little, can’t you?” "Merciful heaven!” groaned Amidon; ”1 can't do it!” Continued on Fourth Page.