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FAYETTEVILLE NEWS, FAYETTEVILLE. GEORGIA,
The Blind Man’s Eyes
* By
Gabriel Warden, Seattle capital
ist, tells his butler he Is expecting
a caller, to be admitted without
question. He Informs his wife of
danger that threatens him if he
pursues a course he considers the
only honorable one. Warden leaves
tlie house in his car and meets a
man whom he takes into the ma-,
chine. When the car returns home,
Warden is found dead, murdered,
and alone. The caller, a young
man, has been at Warden's house,
but leaves unobserved. Bob Con
nery, conductor, receives orders to
hold train for a party. Five men
and a girl board the train, the
Eastern Express.
CHAPTER II—Continued.
—2—
The remaining man, carrying his
own grips, set them down in the gate
and felt in liis pocket for his transpor
tation.
This person had appeared suddenly
after the line of four had formed in
front of old Sammy at the gate; he
had taken his place with them only
after scrutiny of them. His ticket
was a strip which originally, had held
coupons for the Pacific voyage and
some indefinite journey in Asia be
fore; unlike the Englishman’s—and
his baggage did not bear tlie pasters
of the Nippon Yusen Kaisha—the
ticket was close to the date when It
would have expired. It bore upon the
line where the purchaser signed, the
name “Philip D. Eaton” in plain, vig
orous characters without shading or
flourish.
As a sudden eddy of the gale about
the shed blew the ticket from old
Sammy’s cold fingers, the young man
stooped to recover it. The wind blew
off his cloth cap as he did so, and as
he bent and straightened before old
Sammy, the old man suddenly gasped;
and while the traveler pulled on his
cap, recovered his ticket and hurried
down the platform to the trnin, the
gateman stood staring after him as
though trying to recall who the man
presenting himself as Philip D. Eaton
was.
Connery stepped beside the old man.
“Who Is it, Sammy?” he demanded.
“Who?" Sammy repeated. His eyes
were still fixed on the retreating fig
ure. "Who? I don’t know.”
The gateman ' mumbled, repeating
to himself the names of the famous,
the great, the notorious, in his effort
to fit one to the man who had just
passed. No one else belated and
bound for the Eastern Express was in
sight. The president’s order to the
conductor and to the dispatcher sim
ply had directed that Number Five
would run one hour late; it must leave
in five minutes; ancj Connery, guided
by the impression the man last
through the gate had made upon him
and old Sammy both, had no doubt
that the man for whom the train had
been held was now on board.
Connery .went out to the train. The
passengers who had been parading the
platform had got aboard; the last five
to arrive also had disappeared into the
Pullmans, and their luggage had been
thrown into the baggage car. Connery
jumped aboard.
The three who had passed the gate
first—the girl, the man with the
glasses and the young man in the cut
away—it fi'ad now become clear were
one party. They had had reservations
made, apparently, in the name of
Dome; the girl’s address to the spec
tacled man made plain that he was
her father; her name, apparently, was
Harriet; the young man in the cut
away coat was “Don” to her and
“Avery” to her father. His relation, 1
while intimate enough to permit him
to address the girl as “Harry," was
unfailingly respectful to Mr. Dome;
and against them both Dome won his
way; his daughter was to occupy the
drawing room; he and Avery were to
have sections in the. open car.
“You have Sections One and Three,
sir,” the Pullman conductor told him.
And Dome directed the porter to put
Avery’s luggage in Section One, his
own in Section Three.
The Englishman was sent to Section
Four in Car Three—the next car for
ward—and departed at the heels of
the porter. Connery watched more
closely, ns now It came the turn of the
young man whose ticket bore the
name of Eaton. Eaton had no reser
vation in the sleepers ; he appeared,
however, to have some preference as
to where he slept.
“Give me a Three, if you have one,"
he requested of the Pullman conduc
tor. His voice, Connery noted, was
well modulated, rather deep, distinct
ly pleasant. At sound of It, Dome,
who with his daughter’s help was set
tling himself in his section, turned and
looked that way and said something
in a low tone to the girl. Harriet
Dome also looked, and with her eyes
on Eaton, Connery saw her reply in-
audibly, rapidly and at some length.
“I can give you Three in Car Three,
opposite the gentleman I just as
signed,” the Pullman conductor of
fered.
"That’ll clo very well,” Eaton an
swered in the same pleasant voice.
As the porter now took his bags,
Eaton followed him out of the car.
Connery went after them into the next
car. He expected, rather, that Eaton
would at once identify himself to him
as the passenger to whom President
Jarvis’ short note had referred. Ea
ton, however, paid no attention to him,
but was busy taking off his coat and
settling himself in his section as Con
nery passed.
The conductor, willing that Eaton
should choose his own time for Iden
tifying himself, passed slowly on, look-
William MacHarg
Edwin Balmer
Copyright by Little, Brown and Company
ing over the passengers as he went.
He stood for a few moments in con
versation with the dining-car conduc
tor; then he retraced his way through
the train. He again passed Eator,
slowing so that the young man could
speak to him If he wished, and even
halting an instant to exchange a word
with the Englishman^ but Eaton al
lowed him to pass on without speak
ing to him. Connery’s step quickened
ns he entered the next car on his way
back to the smoking compartment of
the observation car, where he expect
ed to compare sheets with the Pull
man conductor before taking up the
tickets. As he entered this car, how
ever, Avery stopped him.
“Mr. Dome would like to speak to
you,” Avery said.
Connery stopped beside the section,
where the man with the spectacles sat
"Give Me a Three, If You Have One,”
He Requested of the Pullman Con
ductor.
with his daughter. Dome looked up
at him.
“You are the train conductor?" he
asked.
“Yes, sir,” Connery replied.
Dome fumbled in his inner pocket
and brought out a card-case, which
he opened, and produced a card. Con
nery, glancing at the card while the
other still held It, saw that it was
President .Jarvis’ visiting card, with
the president’s name in engraved
block letters; across its top was writ
ten briefly in Jarvis’ familiar hand,
“This is the passenger”; and below,
it was signed with the same scrawl
of initials which had been on the note
Connery had received that morning—
“H. It. J.”
Connery’s hand shook as, while try
ing to recover himself, he took the
card and looked at it more closely,
and he felt within him the sinking
sensation which follows an escape
from danger. He saw that his too
ready and too assured assumption
that Eaton was the man to whom Jar
vis’ note had referred, had almost led
him into the sort of mistake which is
unpardonable in a “trusted” man; lie
had come within an ace, he realized,
of speaking to Eaton and so betray
ing the presence on the train of a
traveler whose journey his superiors
were trying to keep secret.
“You need, of course, hold the train
no longer,” Dome said to Connery.
“Yes, sir; I received word from Mr.
Jarvis about you, Mr. Dome. I shall
follow his instructions fully.”
As he went forward again after the
train was under way, Connery tried
to recollect how it was that lie had
been led into such a mistake, and de
fending himself, he laid it all to old
Sammy. But old Sammy was not
often mistaken in his identifications.
If Eaton was not the person for whom
the train was held, might he be some
one else of importance? Now as he
studied Eaton, he could not imagine
what had made him accept this pas
senger as a person of great position.
It was only when he passed Eaton a
third time, half an hour later, when
the train had long left Seattle, that
the half-shaped hazards and guesses
about the passenger suddenly sprang
into form. Allowing for a change of
clothes and a different way of brush
ing his hair, Eaton was exactly the
man whom Warden had expected at
his house and who had come there
and waited while Warden, away in liis
car, was killed.
Connery was walking back through
the train, absent-minded in trying to
decide whether he could be at all sure
of this; and trying to decide what he
should do if he felt sure, when Mr.
Dome stopped him.
“Conductor, do you happen to
know,” he questioned, “who the young
man is who took Section Three in the
car forward?"
Connery gasped; but the question
put to him the impossibility of liis
being sure of any recognition from the
description. “He gave his name on
his ticket as Philip D. Eaton, sir,”
Connery replied.
“Is that all you know about him?”
“Yes, sir.”
"If you find out anything about him,
let rue know,” Dome bade.
“Yes. sir.” Connery determined to
let nothing interfere with learning
j more of Eaton; Dome’s request ,only
gave him added responsibility.
Dome, however, was not depending
upon Connery alone for further infor
mation. As soon as the conductor
had gone, he turned back to his
daughter and Avery upon the seat op
posite.
“Avery,” he said In a tone of direc
tion, “I wish you to get in conversa
tion with 'this Philip Eaton. It will
probably be useful If you let Harriet
talk with him too. She would get im
pressions helpful to me which you
can’t.”
The girl started with surprise but
recovered at once. “Yes, Father,” she
said.
“What, sir?” Avery ventured to pro
test.
CHAPTER 111
M iss Dome Meets Eaton.
Dome motioned Avery to the aisle,
where already some of the passengers,
having settled their belongings in
their sections, were beginning to wan
der through the cars seeking ac
quaintances or players to make up a
card game. Eaton took from a bag
a-handful of cigars witli which he
filled a plain, uninitialed cigar case,
and went toward the club and obser
vation car in the rear. As he passed
through the sleeper next to him—the
last one—Harriet Dome glanced up
at him and spoke to her father; Dome
nodded but did not look up.
The observation room was nearly
empty. The only occupants were a
young woman who was reading a mag
azine, and an elderly man. Eaton
chose a sent as far from these two as
possible.
He had been there only a few min
utes, however, when, looking up, he
saw Harriet Dome and Avery enter
the room. They passed him, engaged
in conversation, and stood by the rear
door looking out into the storm. It
was evident to Eaton, although he did
not watch them, that they were argu
ing something; the girl seemed insist
ent, Avery irritated and unwilling.
Her manner showed that she won her
point finally. She seated herself in
one of the chairs, and Avery left her.
He wandered, as if aimlessly, to the
rending table, turning over the maga
zines there; abandoning them, he
gazed about as if bored; then, with a
wholly casual manner, he came
toward Eaton and took the seat be
side him.
“Rotten weather, isn’t it?” Avery
observed somewhat ungraciously.
Eaton could not well avoid a reply.
“It’s been getting worse,” he com
mented, “ever since we left Seattle.”
“We’re running Into it, apparently.”
Again Avery looked toward Eaton and
waited.
“Yes—lucky if we get through."
The conversation on Avery’s part
was patently forced; and it was
equally forced on Eaton’s; neverthe
less It continued. Avery introduced
the war and other subjects upon which
men, thrown together for a time, are
accustomed to exchange opinions. But
Avery did not do It easily or natu
rally; he plainly was of the caste
whose pose it is to repel, not seek,
overtures toward a chance acquaint
ance. His lack of practice was per
fectly obvious when at last he asked
directly: “Beg pardon, but I don’t
think I know your name."
Eaton was obliged to give it.
“Mine’s Avery," the other offered;
“perhaps you heard it when we were
getting our berths assigned.”
And again the conversation, enjoyed
by neither of them, went on. Finally
the girl at the end of the car rose and
passed them, as though leaving the
car. Avery looked up.
“Where are you going, Harry?"
“I think someone ought to be with
Father.”
“I’ll go in just a minute.”
She had halted almost in front of
them. Avery, hesitating as though he
did not know what he ought to do,
finally arose; and as Eaton observed
that Avery, having Introduced him
self, appeared now to consider it his
duty to present Eaton to Harriet
Dome, Eaton also arose. Avery mur
mured the names. Harriet Dome,
resting her hand on the back of
Avery’s chair, joined in the conver
sation. As he replied easily and in
terestedly to a comment of Eaton’s,
Avery suddenly reminded her of her
father. After a minute, when Avery
—still ungracious and still irritated
over something which Eaton could not
guess—rather abruptly left them, she
took Avery's seat; and Eaton dropped.
into his chair beside her.
Now, this whole proceeding—though
within the convention which, forbid
ding a girl to make a man’s acquaint
ance directly, says nothing against
her making it through the medium of
another man—had been so unnatu
rally done that Eaton understood that
Harriet Dome deliberately had ar
ranged to make his acquaintance, and
that Avery, angry and objecting, had
been overruled.
She seemed to Eaton less alertly
boyish now than she had looked an
hour before when they had boarded
the train. Her cheeks were smoothly
rounded, her lips rather full, her
Inslies very long. He could not look
up without looking directly at her. for
her chair, which had not been moved
since Avery left it, was at nn angle
with his own.
To avoid the appearance of study
ing her too openly, he turned slightly,
so that his gaze went past her to the
white turmoil outside the windows.
“It’s wonderful,” she said, “isn’t it?”
“You mean the storm i" A twinkle
of amusement came to Eaton’s eyes.
“It would be more Interesting if it
allowed a little more to be seen. At
present there is nothing visible but
snow.”
“Is that the only way it affects you?
An artist would think of it as a back
ground for contrasts—a thing to
sketch or paint; a writer as something
to be written down in words.”
Eaton understood. She could not
more plainly have asked him what he
was.
“And an engineer, I suppose,” he
said, easily, “would think of It only as
an element to be included In his for
mulas—an x, or an a, or a b, to be
put in somewhere and square-rooted
or squared so that the roof-truss he
was figuring should not buckle under
its weight.”
“Oh—so that is the way you were
thinking of it?”
“You mean,” Eaton challenged her
directly, “am I an engineer?"
“Are you?”
“Oh, no; I was only talking in pure
generalities, just as you were.”
“Let us go on, then,” she said ga.vly.
“I see I can’t conceal from you that
I am doing you the honor to wonder
what you are. A lawyer would think
of it in the light of damage It might
create and the subsequent possibilities
of litigation.” She made a little pause.
“A business man would take it into
account, as he has to take into account
all things in nature or human; it
would delay transportation, or harm
or aid the winter wheat.”
“Or stop competition somewhere,"
he observed, more interested.
The flash of satisfaction which came
to her face and as quickly was
checked and faded showed him she
thought she was on the right track.
"Business,” she said, still lightly,
“will—how is it the newspapers put
it?—will marshal its cohorts; it will
send out its generals in command of
brigades of snowplows, Its colonels In
command of regiments of snow shov-
elers and its spies to discover and to
bring back word of the effect upon the
crops.”
“You talk," he said, “as if business
were a war.”
“Isn’t it?—like war, but war in
higher terms.”
“In higher terms?” he questioned,
attempting to make his tone like hers,
but a sudden bitterness now was be
trayed by it. “Or in lower?”
"Why, in higher,” she declared, “de
manding greater courage, greater de- j
votion, greater determination, greater ;
self-sacrifice. Recruiting officers can
pick any man off the streets and make
a good soldier of him, but ho one
could be so sure of finding a satisfac
tory employee in that way. Doesn't
that show that daily life, the every
day business of earning a living and
bearing one’s share in the workaday
world, demands greater qualities than
war?”
Her face had flushed eagerly as she
spoke; a darker, livid flush answered
her words on his.
"But the opportunities for evil are
greater, too," he asserted almost
fiercely. “How many of those men you
speak of on the streets have been de
liberately, mercilessly, even savagely
sacrlficd to some business expediency,
their future destroyed, their hope
killed!” Some storm of passion,
whose meaning she could not divine,
was sweeping him.
“You mean,” she asked after an in-
She Had Halted Almost in Front of
Them.
stant’s silence, “that you, Mr. Eaton,
have been sacrificed in such a way?”
“I am still talking in generalities,”
he denied ineffectively.
He saw that she sensed the un-
truthfulness of these last words. Her
smooth young forehead and her eyes,
were shadowy with thought. Eaton
was uneasily silent. Finally Harriet
Dome seemed to have made her de
cision.
“I think you should meet my father,
Mr. Eaton,” she said. “Would you
like to?”
He did not reply at once. He knew
that his delay was causing her to
study him now with great surprise.
“I would like to meet him, yes,” he
said, “but”—he hesitated, tried to
avoid answer without offending her,
but already he hnd affronted her—
“but not now. Miss Dome.”
She stared at him, rebuffed and
chilled.
"They know you. One is fol
lowing. Leave train instantly."
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Physicians won’t even give their pa
tients hope without pay.
IMPROVED UNIFORM INTERNATIONAL
SundaySchool
' Lesson'
(By REV. P. B. FITZWATER, D. D.,
Teacher of English Bible In the Moody
Bible Institute of Chicago.)
Copyright, 1922, Western Newspaper Union.
LESSON FOR DECEMBER 17
JESUS AMONG FRIENDS AND FOES
LESSON TEXT-Luke 10:38-42; 11:14-54.
GOLDEN TEXT—Ye are my friends, if
ye do whatsoever X command you.—John
15:14.
REFERENCE MATERIAL—Luke 2:34,
35.
PP’MARY TOPIC—Jesus in the Home
of Ft »nds.
JUNIOR TOPIC—Jesus Among Friends
and Foes.
INTERMEDIATE AND SENIOR TOPIC
—Friends and Enemies of Jesus.
YOUNG PEOPLE AND ADULT TOPIC
—Christ's Methods of Dealing ^Wlth Peo-
pie. •»
1. Jesus in th* Home of Friends
(Luke 10:38-42).
There is no place where true charac
ter is so clearly revealed as at home.
1. His Reception (v. 38). Martha
was the head of the home, therefore
she received him. It would be a fine
thing if all homes were open to re
ceive Jesus.
2. Mary Sitting at Jesus’ Feet (v.
89). She, of fine spiritual discern
ment, knew that sitting at the Lord’s
feet and hearing pis Word was that
which would please him most.
3. Martha Cumbered About Much
Serving <y. 40), Both sisters loved
the Lord. It would be impossible to
say which loved the more; but Martha
was bent on providing a fine meal for
Him. She was trying to do so many
things that she was on the verge of
distraction. This had so completely
got on her nerves that she found fault
with Jesus for permitting Mary to
leave the kitchen to listen to His
teaching. Not only did <ie criticize
her sister and Jesus, but she assumed
the authority to command Him to send
Mary back to the kitchen to help.
4. Jesus’ Answer (vv. 41, 42. (1)
Rebuked Martha (v. 41). He did this
tenderly, for He knew that she loved
Him sincerely. ' (2) Defends Mary
(v. 42). He declared that but one
thing was needful, and that Mary had
chosen that good part which could not
be taken away from her.
II. Jesus Among Foes (11:14-23; 29-
82; 37-34).
1. Charged With Being in League
With the Devil (vv. 14-23). Being un
willing to receive Him as the Son of
God, and yet unable to account for
j His mighty works, they declared He
I was casting out demons through Beel-
} zebub, the chief of demons. Jesus
I exposed the fallacy of their reasoning
by showing that in that case Satan
would be arrayed against himself, and
therefore would destroy his own king
dom.
2. Refused to Believe His Miracles
(vV. 29-32). They asked for a sign,
to which He replied that they would
have a sign from heaven in His death
and resurrection. He reminded them,
however, that their request showed
unbelief surpassing that of the heath
en queen of the South, and the wicked
people of Nineveh.
8. Wickedness Denounced (vv. 37-
54). He pronounced six woes upon
those who were opposing Him and
seeking His destruction.
(1) The Pharisees (vv. 37-41). These
He denounced for (a) punctil
iously observing some minute rites and
at the same time breaking the Ten
Commandments. They carefully tithed
the small herbs of the garden While
practicing injustice to their fellow-
men and withholding love from God.
j He pointed out to them the folly of
attending to these external acts while
the heart was filled with wickedness.
| (b) Desiring public recognition (v.
! 43). This is a common sin today,
(c) For feigning humility (v. 44). He
compares their hypocrisy to graves
which are on a level with the ground
and may be stepped upon unconscious
ly by someone, and thus defiled. We
can avoid those who make their van
ity known by boasting, but some are
filled with this same wickedness who
do not thus make it known.
(2) The Lawyers (vv. 45-54). Jesus’
strictures on the hypocritical Phari
sees aroused the lawyers, one of whom
indignantly declared: "You are insult
ing us also.” In replying to this
Christ pronounced three woes upon
them; (a) for placing burdensome re
quirements upon the people to which
they themselves would not sumbit
(v. 46). (b) For the murder of God’s
prophets (vv. 47-51). He showed
that their attitude toward Him was
the same that was shown to the
prophets by their fathers, (c) For
keeping back the knowledge of God
by false interpretation of. the Scrip
tures (vv. 52-54). There is no
wickedness perhaps so great as that
of supposed teachers of God’s Word
tvho keep its precious truths from
the people by perverting its meaning.
Seek Ye.
But seek ye first his kingdom, and
his righteousness; and all these
things shall be added unto you.—
Matthew 6:33.
Reaping Iniquity.
Ye have plowed wickedness, ye have
reaped Iniquity; ye have eatea the
fruit of lies.—Hosen 10:13.
Final Permanence.
Character attains final permanence,
and final permanence can come but
once.—Joseph Cook.
Why Bake At Home
when you can buy bread like it,
ready baked?
C OUNT the raisins — at
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Taste it—see how* the rai
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No need to bake at home
when we’ve arranged with
bakers in almost every town
and city to bake this full-
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Just ’phone and they’ll de
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It comes from master bak
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Sun-Maid Raisins.
That’s another reason for its
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of nutritious cereal and fruit—
both good and good for you, so
you should serve it at least twice
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Use Sun-Maid Raisins also in
puddings, cakes and cookies. You
may be offered other brands that
you know less well than Sun-
Maids, but the kind you want is
the kind you know is good. In
sist, therefore, on Sun-Maid
brand. They cost no more than
ordinary raisins.
Mail coupon for free book of
tested Sun-Maid recipes.
SUN-MAID RAISINS
The Supreme Bread Raisin
Your retailer should sell you Sun-
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following prices:
Seeded (in 15 oz. blue jif.)—20c
Seedless (in 15 o*. red fix.)—18c
Seeded or Seedless (11 oz.)—15c
r* CUT THIS OUT AND SEND IT
I Sun-Maid Raisin Growers,
1 Dept. N-535-12, Fresno, California.
2 Please send me cqpy of your free book,
| “Recipes with Raisins.”
Name
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pou—in pour town or close bp.
Writeus for catalog and where
thep map be bought.
Allen Manufacturing Company
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[ don’t understand him.” “He means in my wig?”
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