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“THE GATES OF SILENCE”
FIRST READ THIS:—
JACK RIMINGTON, the hero of the story, and a man with a myMerfous se
cret. proposes to and is accepted by
BETTV LUMSDEN, the charming young daughter nf
sir GEORGE LUMSDEN, who, however, is opposed to Jack because of the lat
ter's poverty, but favors
PAUL SAXE, a millionaire, whom Betty has refused to marry after telling him
that she Is engaged to Jack. Betty's sister,
MRS EDITH BARRINGTON, suddenly returns from France and horrifies
Bet tv b\ deHaring That her first busband,
EDMOND LEVASSEUR, whom she married secretly when a girl, and whom
*he thought dead, has appeared and demands 2,000 pounds • slo,ooo* in ten
davs’ time or he will tell
ANTHONY BARRINGTON everything Onl> four days are left and Mrs Bar
rington begs Betty I■> borrow the money from Saxe Betty Is horrified at
the proposal and refuses, but after a frantic appeal from her sister, con
sents The next day Betty telephones to Saxe and he consents to give her
th< money, hm insists ’hat she •all at his house at 11 o’clock that night,
g Bfttx .-n not refuse That afternoon Rimington gets a note from Saxe
• r -mg hm; 'all at 11:30 o’clock that night Rimington is puzzled, but
| goes and ’s asmn shed to see the nameplate of
J. J. FITZSTFPH ENS. on the railing, this man being the money-lender whose
persecutions drove
TOBY RIMINGTON. .lack's brother, to South Africa. Rimington ascends the
stair.-, but startled to hear a woman’s scream He flashes into a room
and ' nd- to hi* horror Betty standing over a dead man with a dagger In
her hand Th' l lights suddenly go out .lack calls. ’Betty!”
—Now Go On With the Story
TODAY'S INSTALMENT.
Part I. (Continued.)
There was no reply, and it seemed to
Rimington that some Instinct outside and
beyond himself, some sense more than
sight, told him that he was alone. Alone
in this suddenly darkened room, in a
strange house with a dead man!
"Betty' ’ His breath naught with a
sudden sibilant hiss that sounded dis
tinctly tn the deathly silence of the room.
He must do something. He could not
stand there In that darkness He look a
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step forward, then stopped, brought up
right an<l rigid. Ids nerves tingling, his
s. alp crisped Downstairs in that crowd
ed hall there had broken out a clamor of
clocks striking in many tones and halt
ing cadences the hour of midnight.
The sound brought home a new thought
to Rimington's mind That open door in
the street below, the voices of those
clocks, would be calling the attention of
passers-by Some belated wayfarer—a
denizen of the street itself where people
sought repose so late would be coming
THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN AND NEWS: MONDAY. JUNE 3. 1912.
in to meet perhaps on the staircase a
white-faced girl whose wild eyes would
proclaim her secret
The thought stirred him to a new act
ivity. He began to move stealthily across
the room, avoiding the direction of the
thing that lay at his feet. But the dark
ness betrayed him. lie slipped, stumbled
and saved himself before he actually
reached the floor by a hand outstretched,
a hand that encountered something damp
and slimp- the blood of the murdered
man Another moment ami his groping
hands had touched the body Itself Be
fell his flesh touch flesh, stiff and scarcely
cold.
A wave of nausea swept him; uncon
sciously he broke into a cry. and, raising
himself, casing nothing now for noise or
location, stumbled on till his hands, out
stretched before him, brought him up
dead against a wall, where his groping
fingers encountered something that broke
its smooth surface the switch of an elec
tric light.
With a weak cry he touched it. and the
first sight that the upleaping Hqht re
vealed was the staring impress of his own
hand, red-painted against the white pan
elling of the wall.
But of Betty Lumsden, as he turned
swiftly, there was no trace. The room,
revealed b\ the lights installed In brass
sconces against the panelled walls that
had flashed up at the touch of his hand,
was bare, sparsely furnished with a cer
tain dignity despite its shabbiness, with
no cover that could have <oncealed a
mouse
<»nly the knife at the toot of that hud-
A Story of Love, Mystery and Hate, with a
Thrilling Portrayal of Life Behind Prison Bars
died heap of clothes which looked so gro
tesquely' unhuman, those winking gems
on the table, remained to assure him that
the thing which had happened was not
some hideous/oream.
■lust for a moment the thought came to
him that this was a trap. He had been
decoyed here for some purpose. And
then the thought of Betty, white-faced
and fear-stricken, blotted the thought
out.
Recognition.
With an effort he bent and turned the
body round, so that he might examine its
face. In til that moment the more fact
of death, and the manner b.v which death
had come into that room, had been
enough: but now- He drew back
with a startled cry. and stood staring
down at it. He hardly knew who or what
he had expected to see, but not this.
For the man at his feet, his parchment
face fvory-hqed in death, his scant, un
venerable hair clotted with blood, was
the man the world knew as .1 J. F'itz
stephen- the man he had sworn to pun
ish, the man who had ruined hundreds,
who had killed Toby as surely as he him
self had been killed, though lie had raised
no letlial weapon against him
So fate rested the man’s punishment
out of his hands! As Rimington looked
at him he had a strange feeling that
death had wiped out no score.
He stepped to the door. He had not
closed it behind him on entrance, he
knew that; but it was closed now. Was
he locked in? He tried it. and found it
to yield to his touch, and stepping opt
onto the dimly lit landing, he stood wait
ing and listening.
Silence brooded over the old house like
a tangible thing; even the innumerable
tickings of the clocks below seemed to
blend with the silence, to become part
of it; seemed to blend also in a horrible
way with the beating of his own heart.
Then, as he stood there, he started, the
sweat breaking out on brow and throat.
For, cutting the silence like a knife, there
came to him from below a thunderous
sound. Ixjud, sharp, imperative— sotne
one knocking with both the old-fashioned
knockers on the double door, and ringing
an accompanying summons.
Rimington waited, every nerve tense,
for some answering sound or movement
in the house. In the hall one of the clocks
whirred and sharply chimed the quarter
of an hour, hut that was all. Then knock
ing and ringing were reepated—ceased.
Before their vibration died there came to
him another snund —the sharp, ugly sum
mons of a police whistle, shrilling out
through the night.
In Terrible Danger.
Rimington suddenly realized that he
was in terrible danger. While he was
guiltless of any crime, he had sense
enough to realize that the circumstantial
evidence against him was overwhelming.
Seized with a panic of fear, he made a
dash for a bark window and lowered him
self over the sill. An ivy vine helped
him to olimb down until with a gasp of
relief he felt his feet on terra tirma again.
A climb over a wall and he was in the
street again and safe. A taxicab rolled
into sight and Rimington hailed it with
a cry that was almost a scream. He
was standing underneath a street lamp
when it rolled up and in spite of his ex
citement he noticed the driver eyed him
curiously and suspiciously as he stam
mered out “Charing Cross” and tumbled
inside on the cushions.
In another moment the taxicab had
started off and Rimington then, for the
first time, noticed that his hands and
cuffs were stained red. He placed his
hand in a pocket for his handkerchief,
but instead pulled out a little bag. Hold
ing it to the light that streamed inter
mittently through the cab windows, he
gasped, ’Betty’s bag.” and sank back
with a groan. The bag fell to the floor
nf the taxicab and .Jack heard something
inside it give a peculiar clinking noise.
He picked the thing up and dived his
hands into it. When he lifted the con
tents out he uttered an inarticulate cry,
for there in his palm lay one of the most
wonderful and magnificent rubies he had
ever seen.
He was still staring at it when the cab
came to a halt with a grinding of gears
and brakes.
•
Hush Money.
The evening had been a terribly long
one for Mrs. Barrington. “What if Betty
should fail in her mission," • was her
thought, and at times the tension was
so great that it was all she could do to
keep from crying out.
Suddenly there came a crash against
the front door and with a start of fright
Mrs. Barrington rushed to It and ooened
it. There, half swooning, lay her sister.
By META SIMMINS
Author of “Hushed Lip
her face a chalky white. Mrs. Barrington
hastily pulled the girt inlsde and closed
the door, and then, without waiting to
ask questions, busied herself with simple
restoratives. In a few minutes Betty was
able to stand and. placing her hands on
her sister's shoulders, gazed into her eyes
appealingly.
"I didn't get the money," she moaned,
"but don’t ask me why. I can’t tell you.”
Then she stumbled away to bed
How Mrs. Barrington lived that awful
night through she never knew. The
sleepless hours were spent by her lying
back on a pillow picturing to herself a
future as black as it was blank —a fu
ture devoid of happiness, and filled with
disgrace and suffering.
When the morning came she answered
the postman's knock mechanically, and
as mechanically took a letter from him
that was addressed to her in a strangely
lettered hand.
As she tore open the envelope with
nervous fingers something fluttered to the
ground. Even before she reached to pick
It up she saw what it was. A thousand
pound note!
Dazed, she staggered to a chair and
pulled out the remainder of the contents.
Soon another thousand pounds in notes
lay in her lap. attached to which was a
slip of paper. In the same printed hand
writing she read "YOUR HL'SH
MONEY."
That was all
For a couple of seconds Mrs. Barring
ton leaned forward motionless in her
chair, staring down at the papers that
had scattered from her hand, lying like a
sudden shower of white leaves on the
dull moss green of tbe carpet.
"Your hush money!”
Continued Tomorrow.
