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THREE MEN
ft'CBEHOUSE AND A MAID
Copyright by George 11. Dona Cos.
CHAPTER Xi V— Continued.
—l4
i r Bennett had retired within the
room when she arrived; and, going In
after him, she perceived at once what
Tea,mod his alarm. There before
,oolong more sinister than ever
)0d the lunatic Peters; and there
an ominous bulge in his right coat
nocket which betrayed the presence of
L revolver. What John Peters was,
fIS u matter of fact, carrying in his
gi t coat-pocket was a bag of muted
ocolaus which he had purchased m
Windleiu.rst. But Billie’s eyes. tho^J
bright, had no X-ray quality. Her
simple creed was that, if ,lo!m Peters.
Ed m any point, that bulge must
L caused by a pistol. She screamed
uud backed against the wall. Her
“hole acquaintance with John Peters
had been one constant backing against
walls. . • '
“Don't ehoot!” site cried, as Mr. le
ters absent-mindedly dipped his hand
Into the pocket of his coat. “Oh. please
don’t shoot!”
“What tlie deuce do you mean? %alu
Jir. Bennett, irritably. ,
He hated to have people gibbering
Ground him in the morning.
“Wilhelmina, this man says that you
told him you loved him.”
“Yes, I did, and 1 do. lteally, really,
Mr. Peters, 1 do!"
“Suffering cats!”
Mr. Bennett clutched at tlje back of
a chair.
“But you've only met him once 1” he
added almost pleadingly.
“You don’t understand, father,
dear." said Billie desperately. “I’ll ex
plain the whole tiling later, when . . .”
“Father!” ejaculated John Peters
feebly ‘Did you say ‘father’?”
“Of course 1 said ‘father’!”
“This is my daughter, Mr. Peters."
“My daughter! I mean, your daugh
ter! Are — are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. Do you think I
don't know my own daughter?"
“But she called me ‘Mr. Peters' 1*
“Well, it’s your name, isn’t it?”
“But, if she — if tills young lady Is
your daughter, iiow did she know my
name?”
The point seemed to strike Mr Ben
nett. He turned to Billie.
“That’s true. Tell me, Wilhelmina.
when did you and Mr. Peters meet?” _
“Why, in—in Sir Matlaby Marlowe’s
office, the morning you came there wjd
found me when 1 was — talking tq’Sam.’’
Mr. Peters uttered a subdued gan
gling sound. He was finding this scqpe
oppressive to a not very robust intel
lect. " " ’ ;Y;
"He— Mr. Samuel—told me your
name, Miss Milliken,” he said dully.
Billie stared at him. '
Mr. Marlowe told you my name was
Miss Milliken?” she repeated. .: ~,
1 ile told me that you were the sister
of the Miss Milliken who nets as ; ,ste
nogrnpher for the guv’—for Sip/Mhila-'
by, and sent me in to show you toy re
'•‘ilver. because he said you were inter
ested and wanted to see it."
Billie uttered an exclamation.-So did
Mr. Bennett, who hated mysteries.
Mhat revolver? Which
Wiuiis all this about a revolver? Have)
you a revolver?” v
" Wl) y. yes, Mr. Bennett. It is packed
now in my trunk, but usually I carry'lit
about with me everywhere in order tot
l eke a little practice at the Rupert
*>>'ect range. I bougiit it when Sir.
- liiUahy told tne he was sending me to 1
America, because I thought I ought to*
no prepared— because of the Under-}
world, you know.”
A cold gleam had come into Billie’s 1
*yes. Her face was pale and hard. If*
.V ,ln Marlowe — at that moment caroj-,
“V . holy in ids bedroom at the Bluer;
’ OJI ,n Windiehurst, wnshing his
i n!- preparatory to descending to
™" ee room for a hit of cold lunch—'
1 have seen her, the song would!
-T; : rozen on his lips. Which, onfe:
* - ■ mention, as showing that there
Po. t'" yB a s ide, would have
:auch appreciated by the travel)
• - -rr.'ieman in the adjoining room,;
fit ',,. ! ‘ a w ’dd night with some
tPrv, ,riv el!ng gentlemen, and was-
Se ." ' rs!n f; a rather severe headache.
from Sam’s penetrating barl
nl-v thickness of a wooden
th!. i . npw nll - And, terrible though
t( , x :S as an Indictment of the male
V ;‘ n a "omnn knows all, there Is
■p, ,r °üble ahead for some man.
M-' . was trou ßle ahead for Sam
the ,! now tn possession of
con- ' exn to!ned them Hnd
pi the Conc| nslon that Sam had
was - J l ir nctlonl joke on her, and she
Pr T , r ' ' v!>o stron Sly disapproved of
; ’-umor at her expense.
lahv s . ' Tlornln g I met you at Sir Mal
f- •- !/ f ! ce ’ Mr - Peters.” she said In a
°e, “Mr. Marlowe had Just fln
ished telling me a long and convincing
story to the effect that you were madly
in love with a Miss Miliiken, who had
Jilted you, and that this had driven
you off your head, und that you. spent
your time going about with a pistol,
trying to shoot every red-Wired Wom
an you sa w,,because you thought- they
were Miss Miliiken. Naturally, when
you came in and called me
ben; and brandished a revolver, I was
.very frightened. I thought it would he
useless,fb tell you that I wasn't Miss
Miliiken, so 1 tried to persuade you
that .I Avas, and hadn’t jilted you after
all.” '
"Good .gracious!” said Mr. Peters’
vastly relieved; and yet—for always
there is bitter mixed 1 -‘With the sweet —,
a shade disappointed. “Then—er—you
don’t love me after all?”
.“No!”* said Billie.- -T am engaged- tr>~
Bream Mortimer, and l J<we Ima uud
nobody’else in the world !’'
The last ’portion ot her observation
was intended for flip, consumption ,ot
Mr.’ Bennett, rat-lifer tjian tfiiit bf.Mr, 1
Peters, and he consumed ’lt joyfully.
Fie folded Billie in bis ample embrace.
"I always Thought"yotD had u grain,
of away somewhere,” he
said, paying lier a striking tribute. “I
.hope now, tint,t. we’ve heard the last of
all this foolishness about that young
hound Marlowe.”
• J’You Certainly haCe.l I. don’t want
ever to see him again! ! hate him!”
“You'couldn’t-do better, my dear,"
said Mr.'Bennett, approvingly. “And
•wow run away.' Mr: Peters and'l have
some business to discuss.”
* * . * * 1 *
A quarter of nn hour later, Webster,
the valet, sunning himself in .the stable
.yard,'was aware of tbd t daughter of his
employer approaching him.
“Webster,”.said Billie. She was stilJ
pale. Her face (vas still hard, and her
eyes still gleamed cpldly. . ;
“Miss?” said Webster politely, throw
ing away the cigarette with which he
had been refreshing himself.
* “Will you do something'for me?’’,
‘ -“1 should be more than delighted,
miss.’’ ,
Billie whisked Into view nn envelope
which had been concealed in the re
cesses of ’her dress. ’
“Ho you know -the- country about
here, well, Webster?” 4
r - .“Within a certain ritdTas.-jjticrt. unintl
%'ately, miss. I' havd been for -sej eral
enjoyable rambles-since the fine Aveat ti
er set in.” /• > \
“Do you know the place where-tfrere
is a road leading to Havant, and an
other to Cosliato? It’s about a nple
down . .
“1 know the spot well, miss.’’
“Well, straight in front of you when
you.get to the sfgH-p'bst there is a little
latte...”
’■> “I know it, miss,” said Webster. “A
• delightfully romatoic spot. What with
the overhanging trees, 'th& ; wealth of
blackberry bushes, the varied wild
flowers . . .”
“Yes, never mind about the wild
flowers now. I want you after lunch to
take this note to a gentleman you will
find .sitting .on the gate at the bottom
of the lane , . .”
“Sitting on the gate, miss. Yes,
miss.”
“Or leaning against It. You can t
mistake him. He is rather .tall and
... Oh, well, there isn’t likely to be
anybody else there, so you can’t make
•a mistake. Give him this, will you?
“Certainly, miss. Er —any mes
sage?” ■ p-.
“Any What?” “
* “Aiiy. veT.bat. message, miss?”
“No, certainly hot.! You won’t for
get, will you, Webster?”
“On no account whatever, miss.
Shall 1 wait for an answer?’’
; “There won’t be any answer,” said
Billie, setting her teeth for an instant.
“On. Webster 1“
“Miss?”
“I can rely on you to say nothing to
anybody?”
“Most undoubtedly, mis3. Most un
doubtedly l”-'
* • • • •
“Does anybody know anything about
a feller named S. Marlowe?" inquired
Webster, entering the kitchen. “Don t
all spenk at'oncc! S. Marlowe. Ever
heard of him?”
He paused for a reply, hut nobody
had anv information to impart
“Because there’s something Jolly
well up! Our .Miss IJ. is sending me
with notes for him to the bottom of Die
lanes.”
“And her engaged to young Mr. Mor
timer!” said the scullery maid,
shocked. “The way they go on!
Chronic!" said the scullery maid.
“Don’t you go getting alarmed. Anu
don’t vou." added Webster, “go shov
ing vour ear in when your social su
periors are talking. I’ve had to speak
THE DANIELSVILLE MONITOR. OANIELSVILLE, GEORGIA
to you .about that before; My remarks
were addressed to Mrs. Withers here.”
lie Indicated the cook with a respect
ful gesture.
“Yes, here’s the note, Mrs. Withers.
Of .course, if you had a. steamy kettle
.handy, ip.. about hqlf a mrimeut we
coiikl . . . but no, perhqps it’s wiser
not to risk It. And, conte to that, 1
doft'.t Ved to unstick thp envelope to
know what’s inside here. It’s tpe
raspberry*., ma’am, or I’ve lost all my
power to read the human fe'nutle coun
tenapee. . cold aiulproud-looking
she Whs! 1 I’don’t knout; .who this S.
In flits hand I hold tlip- instrument
that’s going to give it hinj in the neck,
proper! Right in the necll; or my name
isn’t Montagu Webster I” ■ ] •
• - -‘.WeII.IP. Withers comfort
ably, pausi.qg.fftC-TU tnoqieht from her
tfdVors; fiihf p’ 1
‘TrtF wayTjdolk "a't'lt,” said Webster,
“is. that there’s been some,sort of un
derstand ln<* lie?ween our Miss B. and
This'S. Marlowe, and she’s-thought bet
ter of it and decided tolsticlf-to the
nlan of her parent’s choice. .She’s
chosen wealth and made up her mind
to hand tlie,bumble suitor the mitten.
There was it rather sl.mjlnr situation in
‘Cupid’’ or 4 l\lainnion,' that Nbsogay
Novelette 1 was .reading in the train
coming, <d.rgwn? iidrej : ohi-y . that % ended
different. For m.v part I’<3 bo better
pleased'if our Miss B. would let the
cash go, and* obey the dictates'of her
-own heart'; buPflifesfe modern girls are
all alike. Ail out for llib stuff, they
a’rje.r.rbh, well. It’s none] of my af
fair,” said Webster, stilling a not un
manly sigh. For beneath that Immacu
late sliirr-froij’t! there bent a > warm
heart; Tflontagti Webster was. a south
mentalist.
CHAPTER XV
At half-past two that afternoon, full
of optimism .and cold beef, gaily nn
con^cious’tllai’Webster, with measured
strides was* approaching ever nearer
with the note that was to give it him
in the neck, proper, Samuel Marlowe
dangled his feet from the top bar of
the gate at the end of the lane and
smoked ..contentedly* ns- he walled for
Billie to make her appearance. He had
had an excellent lunch; his pipe was
drawing well, and all nature smiled.
The breeze from the sea across the
meadows tickled pleasantly the back
of his head, and sang a soothing song
.in the long grass nnd ragged-robins at
his feet.. He was looking forward with
a roseate glow of anticipation to the
moment '.when the white flutter of Bil
lie’s dress would break the green of
the foreground. How eagerly he would
jump from the gatel How lovingly he
would . . -.
The elegant figure of Webster Inter
rupted his reverie. Sam had never seen
Webster before, and. it. was with no
pleasure that he saw him now. He
laid cotne to regard this Inne as his
own property, nnd he resented tres
passers. He tucked his legs under him
and scowled at Webster under the
brim of his hat. • ’
The valet advanced toward him with
tiie air of an affable executioner step
ping daintily to the block.
“Mr. Marlowe, sir?” he Inquired po
litely.
gam was startled. He could make
nothing of this.
“Eli? What?”
“Have I tlie pleasure of addressing
Mr. S. Marlowe?” v
“Yes. that’s-my name.”
“Mine is Webster, sir. I am Mr. Ben
nett’s personal gentleman’s gentleman.
Miss Bennett intrusted me with this
note to deliver to you, sir.”
Sum began to grasp the situation.
For SQine fenson or other, the dear
girl had' been prevented from coining
tins afternoon, und she had written to
explain and to relieve his nnxiety. It
was like her. It was Just the sweet,
thoughtful tiling lie would have expect
ed Her to do. His contentment with the
existing scheme of things returned.
The sun shone out again, and he found
himself amiably disposed toward* the
messenger.
“Fine day,”, he said, as he took the
note.
“Extremely, sir,” said Webster, out
wardly unemotional, inwardly full of
a grave pity.
It was plain to him that there had
been no previous little rift to prepare
the young man for the cervical opera
tion which awaited hint, and he edged
a little nearer, in order to he handy to
catch Sam If the shock kuocked him
off the gate.
As it happened, It did not. Having
read the opening words of the note,
Sam rocked violently; but his feet
were twined about the lower bars and
this saved him from overbalancing.
Webster stepped back, relieved.
The note fluttered to the ground.
Webster, picking it up und banding It
back, was enabled to get a glimpse of
the first two sentences. They con
firmed his suspicions. The note was
hot stuff. Assuming that It continued
as It began, It was about the warmest
tiling of its kind that pen had ever
written. Webster had received one or
two heated epistles from the sex In
his time—your man of gallantry can
hardly hope to escape these unpleas
antnesses —but none bad got off the
mark quite so swiftly, and with quite
so much frigid violence as tills.
•‘Thanks,” said Sum, meclianicnliy.
“Not at all. sir. You are very wel
come.
Sain resumed Ills reeding. A cold
perspiration broke out on tiis fore
head. His toes curled, and something
seemed to be crawling down the small
of Ills back. His heart had moved
from its proper place and was now
beating in his throat. lie swallowed
once,or twice to remove the obstruc
tion, hut without .success. A kind of
pal! bud descended on the landscape,
blotting out the sun.
Of all the rotten sensations In tills
Wotfid, the 'worst ’is the realization
that a • thotisniid-10-orie chance lias
come off, and caused our wroug-doing
to he detected. .There had seemed no
possibility of that little ruse of his be
ing‘discovered, and' yet here was Billie
in full possession of the facts. It al
most, made the worse that she
did, pot say how -she* laid ’ come Into
possession, of them. ; This gave Bum
that feeling of self-pity, that sense of
having been 111-used by fate, which
makes the brifigjng home of crime so
particularly pbigriant.
“Fine day 1” he muttered. He had
n sort of subconscious feeling that it
was imperative U> keep engaging Web
ster In light conversation.
“Yee. sir. Weather still keeps up,'
agreed-the valet suavely.
Sain frowned over tho note. He felt
injured. Sending a fellow notes didn’t
give him a cbnnce. If site had come
in person and denounced him it would
not have been an agreeable experience
put at least it .would have been pos
sible then to have .pleaded and* cajoled
and—and alj that sort of tiring. But
what could he do now? It seemed to
liiih that Iris only possible course wai
to write a note in reply,* begging he*
to see trim. He explored his pockets
and foynd u pencil and a sernp of pn
per. For some moments lie scribbled
desperately. Then he folded the note.
“Will you take this to jllqs Bennett*’’
lie said, holding it out.
Webster took the missive, becnuwi
he wunted to read it later at bis
leisure; but lie shook Ids bead. ’
“Useless, 1 fear, sir,” lie said gravely.
“What do yommean?”
“I am afraid it would effect llttls
or nothing, sir, sending our Miss IV
notes. She is not in the proper frame
of mind to appreciate thpm. I saw
her face when she handed me the ha
ter you have just read, abd I assuro
you, sis, she is not in u malleabfo
mood.”
“You seem to know a lot about Itr 1
“I have studied the sex, *sir,” salt!
Webster modestly.
“I mean, übout my business, cofk
found It I Y’ou seem to know all about
It I” ‘ -<■
“Why/yes sir, I think I may say that
I have grasped the position of affairs.
And, If you will permit me to suy so,
sir, you have my respectful sympathy.’’
Dignity is a sensitive plant which
flourishes only under the fairest condi
tions. Sam’s had perished in the bleak
east wind of Billie’s note. In other
circumstances he# might’ have resented
this Intrusion of a stronger Into tits
most intimate concerns. His only
emotion now, was one of dull but dis
tinct gratitude. The |our winds of
heaven blew .chilly upon his raw nnd
unprotected soul, and he wanted to
wiaif .it. up.-In a mantle of sympathy,
careless of the source from which he
borrowed that mantle. If Webster, the
valet, felt disposed, ns’Jie seemed to
indicate, to comfort him. let the thing
go on. ; At tltot moment Sam wonld
have accepted condolences from a
coal .heaver, . , .
was' reading a story’—one of the
Nosegay Novelettes; I do not know If
you are familiar with the series, sir?—
In which mtich'the same situation oc
curred. It was entitled ‘Cupid or Mam
rnon 1’ The heroine, Lady Blanche Tre
fusls, forced by tier parents to wed *
wealthy suitor) dispatches a note to
her humble lover. Infotfining him it
cannot lie. I believe It Often happens
like that, sir.” -
“You’re all. wrong,” said. Sam. “It’s
not that at nil.”
“Indeed, sir? I supposed it was.”
“Nothing like It! I—I —”
Sam’s dignity, on Its death-bed. made
a last effort to assert Itself.
“I don’t know what It’s got to do
with you 1”
“Precisely, sir I” said Webster, with
I dignity. “Just us you say I Good af
ternoon. sir!"
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
No man with a full beard has to
worry about the Christmas neckties
his friends give him.
Wit Is the salt of conversation,
, the food
mu
Humor
NEVER HEARD OF HER
The movies look to all sorts of.
sources for their material and there
have been (livings in many strange
Helds. One talented young writer
thought of trying out mythology. So
he went to his general manager with
the story of Diana.
The general manager viewed with
some Interest the illustration pre
sented.
“Who is she?”
“Diana, goddess of the chase."
“Well, she's a pretty fair looker, hut
we ain't making any more chase*pte-‘
hires.”
A SOUND ARGUMENT
Mr. l’ester —No! 1 can’t afford two
thousand dollars for a car.
Ills Wife —But it wih be a real
economy. Just think how much It will
save this season on ray walking cos
tumes.
A Wallflower.
"And how do you like codfish balls?"
I said to Sister Jeatito. > • ■
She said, “I really couldn't say—
I’ve never been to any.”
No Ear for Music.
"lias your daughter finished her mu
sical education?"
"I suppose so,” answered Mr. Twob
ble, “but sometimes when she Is play
ing one of those - classical pieces It
seems to me that she Is starting to
learn all over again.”
Answer, Short and Snappy.
Housewife —Every morning it’s the
same story, Lena, always late. How
many more times mn I to fret about
this?
Lena—Ten times, Mrs. Sharp. To
day is the twentieth, I leave on the
first.
The Very Place.
Sweet Young Tiling Driving Through
Suburb —Would you like to see where
1 was vaccinated?
He (with enthusiasm) —Sure.
S. Y. T. (pointing toward house they
had Just passed)—Well, right in there.
NOT LIKE THE MEN
Woman’s work is never done.
And she doesn’t get time and u half
for overtime, either.
May It Be Ever Thus.
With flowing cheeks anl sparklln*
eyes,
That youth vivacious hath —
Attended by her stately groom,
She took the bridal path.
Hard to Tel l .
Father--What’s your mother doing?
Walter (who has Just come down
stairs)—She’s either dressing for a
party or going to bed.
Generous Term*.
Mrs. Newgilt—Yes, I advertised fot
a competent Instructor to teach me to
play craps. What do you charge?
The Crap Expert— When they shoots
for real money, lady, I don’t make no
•barge for the lessons.
At Bea.
OM Maid—l suppose you have beet
In tlie navy so long you are accus
tomed to sea leys.*
Middle—Lady. I wasn't even lookin’.
- Mutual Magazine.
Fortissimo.
“Fhwnt’s lhat noise, Mrs. Mulcnhy?*
“It’s me daughter Maggie runnln'
up and down th’ scales.”
“Begorra, she must weigh a ton.”
Whaddja Mean?
“I*a, how did those prehistoric mon
ster look?”
“I really can’t remember that, sonny;
ask your mother.”
Knew It Already.
“Now-, Johnny, don’t your conscience
ell you you have done wrong?”
“No. grandma ; I knew It already."