About The Grady County progress. (Cairo, Grady County, Ga.) 1910-19?? | View Entire Issue (May 14, 1915)
GRADY COUNTY PROGRESS. CAIRO, GEORGIA. GEORGE musTRAra 15 WHITE DARK JfCUTCHEON LUSTRATIONS &- RAY WALTERS coPY/vmr. is/* OV DOW, P/ZAD AftD <X>nPA/fY SYNOPSIS. In tho Now York homo of James Brood (Dawes and Higgs, his two old pensioners *nd comrades, awajt tho coming of iBrond s son Frodorlo to learn the contents (Of a wireless from Brood, but Frederic, after reading, throws It Into tho tiro and [leaves tho room without a word. Frederic (tolls Lydia Desmond, his flancoo. that the message announces his father's marrlnge kind orders tho houso prepared for an Im mediate homecoming. Mrs. Desmond, tho housekooper and Lydia's mother, tries to tcool Frcdcrlo's tomper at tho Impending changes. Brood and his brido arrive, she ■wins Frodorlo'a liking at first mooting. Brood shows dtsllko and vailed hostility to ills son. Lydia and Mrs. Brood moot In ithe Jade-room, where Lydia works as Brood’s Secretary. Tho room, dominated fey a great gold Buddha, Brood’H father confessor, Is furnished In oriental mag nificence. Mrs. Brood, after a talk with Lydia, whloh leaves tho latter puzzled. Is disturbed by tho appearance of Ranjab, (the Hindu Bervant of Brood. Mrs. Brood makes changes In tho household and coins her husband's consent to send Mrs. Desmond and Lydia away. 8ho trios to fathom tho mystery of Brood's separation from his first wife, and his dislike of Ills son. but falls. CHAPTER VI.—Continued. . “It is not unlike all stories of its kind, my dear,” she said with an In difference that amazed him. “They are all alike. Why should I ask? No, ; I do not ask you for your story, James, i Sometime you may tell mo, but not to- ■ day. I shouldn't mind hearing it if it ' were an original tale, but God knows j It isn’t It’s os old as the Nile. But you may tell me more about your son. * Is he like you, or like his mother?" i Brood’s Ups were compressed. “I can’t say that he is like either of us,” . he said shortly. She raised her eye brows slightly. “Ah,” she said. “That makes quite ■' a difference. Perhaps, after all, I shall > be interested in the story.” Her man ner was so casual, so serenely, matter- of-fact, that ho could hardly restrain the sharp exclamation of annoyance that rose to his lips. He hit his lip and allowed the frank Insinuation to go unanswered. He consoled himself with the thought that ehe must have spoken in jest, with out Intention. He had the uncomfort able feeling that she would make light • of his story, too, when the time came v for revelations. A curious doubt took root In his mind; would he ever be able to understand the nature of this ,woman whom he loved and who ap- peered to love him so unreservedly? tAa time went on, the doubt became a fconviction. She was utterly beyond {comprehension. *} I The charm and beauty of the new mistress of James Brood’s .heart and . home were to become the talk of tho [town. Already, in the first month of per reign, she had drawn to. the olei house the attention not only of the parasites who feed on novelty, but of families that had long since given up Brood as a representative figure in the circle Into which ho had been born. I The restoration was slow at first, as ■ it naturally would be. The new Mrs. jBrood came upon the scene as a trange star appears suddenly in the es to excite and mystify the unsus- iting world. She seemed to have me from nowhere, and yet like the S ew planet, she suddenly filled an ap- ointed spot in the firmament, i It cannot he said that she conquered, for that would be to imply design on iher part. Possibly she considered the (game unworthy of the effort. She re- jgarded herself as superior to all these {people, a surviving estimate of them selves that most Europeans enjoy; jthereforo what was she to gain, saving a certain amount of amusement, by mtact with her husband’s friends? In truth, Yvonne Brood despised U merlcans. She made small pre- nse of liking them. The rather close- knit circle of Parisian aristocracy ' lch she affected is known to tol- ate but not to invite the society of ifcen the best of Americans.- She wad larger than her environment. Her ^ws upon and her attitude'toward Americans- were; not created by but for her. The fact that James IroQd had reached the inner shrine of noh self-worship no doubt put him u a class apart from all. other Amerl- , so far as she was concerned. At jle>t it may account for an apparent nc-ulstency, in that she married him ; much hesitation. B warmest friend and admirer— one ght almost say slave—was Fred- - leric <od. She had' transformed him. (He Who longer tho silent, moody - youth other., days, but an eager, im- ' jpetuoMaymate whose principal ob ject in was to amuse her. If any one haied 'to convince him that he ever coi) ava regarded Mrs. Des- (mond’s ronement and. departure With equity, he. would have pro- ; tested wrt\ the force at his com mand. ®at would have been a month eS'o saw. Lydia and her mother 'Mthout the slightest 'doubt in hl d that .-the host. r ; The DeB® 00 k a small apart ment just t the corner from [Brood’s horn®,ide street, an( j i n ithe same blot a , na tter of fact, their windows, down into the courtyard in to l( B roo d’s home, ijerederlc assloU la pu ttlng their luew home In « W as great fun tor 'iffSS* au“ S building of what they pleased to call “a nest.” Lydia may have seen tho cloud in their Bky, but lie did not. To him, tho world was bright aud gladsome, without a shadow to mar its new beauty. He was enthusiastic, eager, excited. She fell in with his spirit, but her pleas ure was shorn of some of its keenness by tho odd notion that it was not to endure. He even dragged Yvonne around to the little flat, to expatiate upon its cozluess with visual proof to support his somewhat exaggerated claims. Her lazy eyes took in tho apartment at a glance, and she was done with it. •'It ts very charming,” she said, with her soft drawl. “Have you no ciga rettes, Lydia?” The girl flushed and looked at Fred eric for relief. He promptly produced his own cigarettes. Yvonne lighted one and then stretched herself com fortably in the Morris chair in which no woman ever had appeared comfort able before—or since, perhaps. “You should learn to smoke,” she went on. “Mother wouldn’t like me to smoke,” said Lydia, rather bluntly. A faint frown appeared on Frederic’s brow; only-to disappear with Yvonne’s low, infectious laugh. “And Freddy doesn’t like you to smoke, either, ai—e?” she said. “He may have changed htB mind re cently, Mrs. Brood,” said the girl, smiling so frankly that the edge was taken off of a rather direct implica tion. "I don't mind women smoking,” put in Frederic hastily. “In fact, I rather like it, the way Yvonne does it. It’s a very graceful accomplishment.” “But I am too clumsy to—” began Lydia. “My dear,” interrupted the Parisian, carelessly flecking the ash into a jar diniere at her elbow, “it is very naughty to smoke, and clumsy women never should be naughty. If you real ly feel clumsy, don’t, for my sake, ever try to do anything wicked. There is nothing so distressing as an awkward woman trying to be devilish.” '“Oh, Lydia couldn't be devilish if she tried,” cried Frederic, with a quick glance at the girl’s half-averted face. “Don't say that, Frederic,” she cried. “That’s as much as to say that I am clumsy and awkward.” “And you are not,” said Yvonne de cisively. “You are very pretty and graceful and adorable, and I am sure you could be very wicked if you set about to do it.’.' “Thank you,” satd Lydia dryly. “By the way, this window looks al most directly down into our court yard,” Bald Yvonne abruptly. She was leaning on her elbow, looking out upon the housetops below. “There is my bal cony, Freddy. And one can almost look into your father's lair from where I sit.” She drew back from the window suddenly, a passing look of fear In “d that it was all for “By the Way, This' Window Looks Al most Directly Down Into Our Court yard.” her eyes. It was gone in a second, however, and would have passed unno ticed but for the fact that Frederic was, as usual, watching her face with rapt Interest. He caught the curious transition and involuntarily glanced below. . • The heavy curtains in the window of his father’s retreat were drawn apart and the dark face of Ranjab the Hindu was plainly distinguishable. He was looking up at the Window In which Mrs. Brood was sitting. Although Frederic was far above, he could see the gleaming white of the man’s eyes. The curtains fell quickly together and the gaunt brown face was gone. Questions raced through Frederic’s puzzled brain. Out of them grew a queer, almost uncanny feeling that the Hindu had called to lior In tho still, mysterious voice of tho East, and al though no sound had been uttered, she heard as plainly as it he actually had shouted to her across the inter vening space. His father had said, more than once, that the Hindu aud tho Egyp tian possessed the power to be in two distinct places at the same time. James Brood, a sensible man, was a firm believer-in magic, and this much Frederic knew of Ranjab—it James Brood needed him, no matter what the hour or the. conditions, the man ap peared beforo him ns it out ot nowhere and in response to no audible sum mons. He was like the slave of the lamp. Was thore, then, between these two —the beautiful Yvonne and tho silent i Hindu—a voiceless pact that defied tho will or understanding of either? He had not failed to note a tend ency on her part to avoid the Hindu as much as possible. She even con fessed to an uncanny dread of the man, but could not explain the feeling. Once sho requested her husband to dismiss the faithful follow. When he demanded tho reason, however, she could only reply that she did not like the man and would feel happier it ho wore sent away. Brood refused, and from that hour her tear of the Hindu increased. Now she was speaking in a nervous, hurried manner to Lydia, her back toward the window. In the middle of a sentence she abruptly got up from the chair and moved swiftly to the op posite side of the room, where she sat down again, ns far as possible from the window. Frederic found him self watching her face with curious Interest. All the time she was speak ing her eyes were fixed on the win dow. It was as it she expected some thing to appear there. There was no mistaking the expression. After study ing her face in silence for a few min utes Frederic himself experienced an irresistible impulse to turn toward the window. He halt expected to see the Hindu’s face there, looking in upon them; a perfectly absurd notion when he remembered that they were at least one hundred feet above the ground. Presently she arose to go. No, she could not wait for Mrs. Desmond’s return. ”It is charming here, Lydia,” she said, surveying the little sitting-room with eyes ..that sought the window again and again in furtive dart3, “Frederic must bring me here often. We shall have cozy times here, we three. It is so convenient, too, for you, my dear. You have only to walk around the corner, and there you are! —at your place, of business, as 'the men would say.” (Lydia was to continue as Brood’s amanuensis. He would not listen to any other arrangement.) “Oh, I do hope you will come, Mrs, Brood,” cried the girt, earnestly. “My piano will be here tomorrow, and you shall hear Frederic play. He is really wonderful.” “You play?” asked Mrs. Brood, re garding him rather fixedly. Lydia answered for him. “He disap pears for hours at a time, and comes home humming fragments from—oh but I am not supposed to tell! For give me, Frederic. Dear me! What have I done?”' She was plainly dis tressed. “No harm in telling Yvonne," said he, but uneasily* “You see, it’s this way—father doesn’t like the idea of my going in for music. He is really very much opposed to it. So I’ve been sort of stealing a march on him. Go ing up to a -chum’s apartment and banging away to my heart's content, It’s rather fun, too, doing It on the sly. Of course, if father heard of it he’d—he’d—well, he’d be nasty about It, that’s all.” “He will not let you have a piano in the house?” “1 should say not!” She gave them a queer little smile. “We shall see,” she said, and that was all. “What do you play—what do you like best, Frederic?" inquired Yvonnfe, "Oh, those wonderful little Hunga rian things most of all, tile plaintive little—” He stopped as she began 'to hum lightly the strains of one of Ziehrer’s jaunty waltzes. "By jove, how did you guess? Why it’s my favorite. .1 love it, Yvonne, ' As they descended in the elevator, Frederic, unable to contain blmself, burst out rapturously; “By jove, Yvonne, It will be fun coming over here every day or so for a little music, won’t it? I can’t tell you how happy 1 shall be.” "It is time you ivere- happy,” said she, looking straight ahead, and many days passed before he had an Inkling of all that lay behind her remark, As they entered the house, Jones met them in the hall. “Mr. Brood telephoned that he will be late, madam. He iB at the cus toms office about the boxes.” “There will be five or six in for tea, Jones. You may serve it in Mr. Brood's study.” - A look of surprise flitted.across the butler's impassive face. "Yes, mad am.” For a moment he had doubted his hearing. “And ask Ranjab to_ put away Mr. Brood’s writing material and reference books.” "I shall attend to it myself, madam Ranjab went out with Mr. Brood.” “Went out?” exclaimed Yvonne, rigid. Frederic turned upon the butler in a flash. “You must be mistaken, Jones,” he said sharply. “I think not, sir. They went away together in the automobile. He has not returned." A long look of wonder and perplex ity passod between young Brood aud Ills stepmothor. Sho laughed suddenly and unnatu rally. Without a word she started up the stairs. He followed more slowly, IiIb puzzled eyes fixed on the gracotul ilguro ahead. At the upper landing sho stopped. Her hand grasped tho railing with rigid Intensity. Ranjab emerged from tho shadows at the end of the hall. Ho bowed very dooply. "Tho master's books and papers ’avo been removed, sahibah. The study is In ordor.” CHAPTER VII. Ranjab the Hindu. Tho two old men, long slnco rele gated to a somewhat self-imposed ob llvlon, on a certain night discussed, as usual, the affairs of the household in the privacy of their room on tho third floor remote, not, however, without first convincing themselves that the shadowy Ranjab was nowhero within rango of their croaking undertones. From tho proscribed regions down stairs camo the faint sounds of a piano and tho intermittent chatter of mqny voices. Someone was playing “La Paloma." • These new days were not like the old ones. Once they had enjoyed, even commanded, the full freedom of the house. It had beeu their privi lege, their prerogative, to euter Into every social undertaking that was planned; in fact, they had come to regard themselves as hosts, or, at tho very least, guests of honor on such occasions. They had a joyous way of lifting the responsibility of conversa tion from everyone else; and, be it said to their credit, there was no sub ject on which they couldn't talk with decision and' fluency, whether they knew anything about it or not. And nowadays it was different. They were not permitted to appear when guests were in the house. Tho sump tuous dinners—of which they heard something from the servants—were no longer graced by their presence. They were amazed and not a little irritated to observe, by listening at the head of thq stairs, that the unfortunate guests, whoever they were, always seemed to be enjoying themselves, They couldn't, for the life of them, un derstand how such a condition was possible. Brood had been working rather steadily at his Journal during the past two or three weeks. He had reached a point in the history where his own memory was somewhat vague, and had been obliged to call upon his old comrades to supply the facts. For several nights they had sat with him going over the scenes connected with their earliest acquaintance — those black days In Calcutta. Lydia had brought over her father’s notes ant} certain transcripts of letters he had written to her mother before their marriage. The four of them were put ting those notes and narratives into chronological order. Brood, after three months of married- life and fri volity, suddenly had decided to devote himself almost entirely to the comple tion of the journal. He denied himself the'theater, the opera and kindred features of ' the passing show, and as he preferred to entertain rather than to be enter tained, seldom found it necessary to go into the homes of other people, Yvonne made no protest. She merely pressed Frederic into service as an escort when she desired to go about, and thought nothing of it. Whether this arrangement pleased James Brood time will show. He, too, appeared to think nothing of it. The lines had returned to the cor ners of his mouth, however, and the old, hard look to his eyes. And there were times when he spoke harshly to his son, times when he purposely humbled him in the presence of others without apparent reason. On this particular night, Yvonne had asked a few people tn for dinner. They were people whom Brood liked especially well, but who did not appeal to her at all. As a matter of fact, they bored her. She appeared to be happy in pleasing him, however. -When she told him that they were coming, he favored her with a dry, rather im personal smite, and asked, with whim sical good humor, why she chOBO to punish herself for the sins of his youth. She laid her cheek against his and purred! For a moment he held his breath. Then the fire in his blood leaped into flame He clasped the slim, adorablo body In his strong arms and crushed her againBt his breast. She kissed him and lie was again the flercei eager, unsateci lover. It was one' of their wonderful imperishable moments, pioments that brought ob livion. Then, ns he frequently did of late he held her oft at arm’s length and searched her velvety eyes with a gazfc that seemed to drag the very secrets out- of her soul. She went deathly white and shivered. He took his hands from her shouidors and smiled. She camo back into his arms like a dumb thing seeking protection, and contin ued to tremble as if frightened. When company was being enter tained downstairs Mr. Dawes and Mr. Riggs, with a fidelity to convention that was almost pitiful, invariably donned their evening clothes. They considered' themselves remotely con nected with the festivities, and, that being the case, the-least they could do was to “dress up.” Moreover, they dressed with great care and delibera tion. There was always the chance that they might be ■ asked to come down, or, what was even more impor tant, Mrs. Brood might happen to en counter them in the upper hall, am} in that event. It was imperative that she should be made to realize how Usually at nine o'clock they strolled into tho study and smoked one of Brood's cigars with tho gusto of real guests. It was their habit to saunter nbout tho room, inspecting tho treas ures with critical, appraising eyes, very much as if they lmd never seen them before. They even handled some of tlie familiar objocts with an air of bewilderment that would have done credit to a Cook's tourist. It was also, a habit of thotrs to try tho doors of a largo teakwood cabinet in one cor ner of the rooni. The doors always wore locked, and they sighed with patient doggedness. Somo day, how ever, Ranjab would forget tp lock those doors, and then— “Joe,” Mr. Dawes, after ho had tried tho doors on this particular occasion, 'I made a terrible mistake In letting poor Jim get married again. I'll nover forgive myself." He had said thlB at least a hundred times during tho past three months. Sometimes ho cried over It, but never until he had found that tho cabinet doors were locked. "I wish Jack Desmond had lived," mused the other, paying no attention to the egotism. “He would have put a stop to this fool marriage." They snt down and pondered. "Jim's getting mighty cranky of late," ruminated Dawes, pulling away at his uniighted cigar. “It’s a caution the way he snaps Freddy off these days. Ho—he hates that boy, Joe.' 1 “Sh! Not so loud!" "Confound you, don’t you know whisper when you hear it?" demanded Dawes, who, in truth, had whispered. Another potential silence, “Freddy goes about with her a good deal more than lie ought to,” said Riggs at last. “They’re together two-thirds of tho Crushed Her Against His Breast. stupid she had been. time. Why—why, he. heels her like a trained dog. Playing tho planner morning, noon and night, and out driv ing, and going to the theater, and—" “I've a notion to tell Jim he ought to put a stop to it,” said the other. “It makes me sick." "Jim’ll do it without being told one o' these days, so you keep out of it. Say, have you noticed how peaked Lydia's looking these days? She's not the same girl, Dan, not the same girl. Something’s wrong.” He shook his head gloomily. ‘*It’s that doggoned woman," an nounced Dawes explosively, and then looked over his shoulder with appre hension in his blear eyes. A sigh of relief escaped him. “She's got no business coming in be tween Lydia and Freddy," said Riggs. “Looks as though she’s just set on busting it up. What can she possibly have against poor little Lydia?' She’s good enough for Freddy. Too good, by hokey! Specially when you stop to think.” Dawes glared at him. “Now don’t begin gossiping. You’re as bad as an old woman.” "Thinking ain’t gossiping, confound you. If I wanted to gossip I’d up and say flatly that Jim Brood knows down in his soul that Freddy is no son of his. He—■" “You’ve never heard him say so, Joe.” “No, but I can put two and two to gether. Pin no fool." 11 “I’d advise you to shut up." “Oh, you would, would you?” with vast scorn. “I’d like to know who It was that talked to Mrs. Desmond about it. Who put It into her head that Jim doubts—" “Well, didn’t she say I was a lying old busybody!” snapped Danbury tri umphantly. “Didn't she call me down, eh? I’d like *to' know what more you coulcl expect than that. Didn’t she make me take back everything I said?’ “She did,” said Riggs, with convic tion. “And I believe she would have thrashed you if she'd been a man, just as she said she would. And didn’t I advise her to do it anyway, on the ground that you're an old*?woraan and—” "That’s got nothing to do with the present case,” interrupted Dawes hastily. “What we ought to be think ing about now is how to get rid of thiB woman that’s come in here to wreck our home. She’s an Interloper. She's a foreigner. She—" Mr. Dawes leaned a little closer. "I wonder how Mrs. Desmond likes hav ing her over,there playing the piano every afternoon with Freddy while Lydia’s over here copying things for Jim, and working her poor little head off. Ever stop to think about that? "I think about it all tho time. And, by thunder, I’m not the only one who docs, either, Jim thinks a good deal and so does Lydia. It's a darned—" Mr. Riggs happened to look up at that Instant, llnnjub was standing In front of him, ills arms folded across his breast, in tho habitual poso of the Hindu who waits. The man was dressed in tho costume of a high-caste Brahmin; tho commonplace garments of tho Occident had boon laid aside, and in their plnco woro tho vivid, daz zling colors of lnd, from tho bcjoweled sandals to the turban which crownod ills swarthy brow nnd gleamed with rubies and sapphlros uncounted. Mr. Riggs' mouth roniainod open as ho stared blankly at this ghost of anothor day. Not slnco the old days in India had he seen Ranjab in native garb, and oven then ho was far from boing thu resplendent creature of tonight, for llunjab in ills home land was a poor man and without distinction. “Ain I awake?" cxclalmod Mr. Riggs In such an awful voice that Mr. Dawes gave, over staring at tho cabinet nnd favored him with an impatient ktok on tlie ankle. “I guess that'll wake you up If—“ and then he saw the Hindu. "Ran jab!” oozed from his lips. Ranjab was smiling, and when ho smiled his dark face was a joy to be hold. His whlto teeth gleamed and his sometime unfoollng eyes sparkled with delight. He liked tho two old men. They hnd stood, with llrood be tween him and grave peril far back in tho old days when oven the faint est gleam of hope apparently tad been blottod out. “Behold," ho cried, magnificently spreading his arms. "I am made glo rious! See before you the prince of magic! See!” With. a swift, deft movement ho snatched tho half- smoked cigar from tlie limp llngois of Mr. Riggs and, flrBt holding, it beforo their blinking eyes, tossed it into tho air. It disappeared! "Well, of all the—" began Mr. Riggs, sitting up very straight. His oyeB were following tlie rapid actions of tho Hindu. Unlocking a drawer in the big table, tho latter peered Into it and then beckoned tho old men to his side. There lay tho cigar and beside it a much-needed match! “I don’t want to smoke it," said Mr. Riggs, vigorously declining his prop erty. "Tho darned thing’s bewitched." Whereupon Ranjub took it out of tho drawer and again threw it into the air. Then he calmly readied nboTe his head and plucked a fresh cigar out of space, obsequiously tendering it to the amazed old man, who accepted it with the sheepish grin of a be- addlcd schoolboy. “You haven’t lost any of your old skill,” said Mr. Dawes, involuntarily glancing at his own cigar to make 3ure that he had it firmly gripped in his stubby fingers. "You ought to bo in a sideshow, Ranjab.” Ranjab paused, before responding, to extract a couple of billiard balls and a small papor knife from the lapel of Mr. DawcB’ coat. 1 am to perform tonight, sahib, for tlie mistross’ guests. It is to bo—what you call him? A sideshow? Ranjab Is to do his tricks for her, ns tho dog performs for his master." The smile had disappeared. His face was an im penetrable mask once more. Hnd tliolr eyes been young and keen, however, they might have caught the flash of anger in his.' “Going to do all the old tricks?” cried Mr. Riggs eagerly. “By George, I’d like to see ’em a^.aln; wouldn’t you, Dan? I’m glad we’ve got our good clothes on. Now you see what comes of always boing prepared for—” "Sorry, sahib, but the master lias request me to entertain you before the guests come up. Coffee ts to be serve here." "That means we’ll have to ■ clear out?” said Riggs, slowly. "But boo!” cried Ranjab, genuinely sorry for them. He bocame enthusias tic once more. “See! I shall do them nil—and bettor, too, for you.” For ten minutes he', astonished th« old men with the mysterious feats oil the Indian fakir. They waxed enthw Mys terlous Feats of the Indian Fakir. siastlc. He grinned over the pleasure he was giving them. Suddenly h« whipped out a' short, thin sword from its scabbard in ills sash. The amazing, incomprehensible sword - swallowing act followed. "You see Ranjab has not forgot,” hq eried in triumph. “He have not loot the touch of the wizard, aih?” "You’ll lose your gizzard 3ome day, doing that,” said Dawes, grimlr. "Ill gives me tlie shivers." 1 (TO BE CONTINUED J
