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“TUIT CATCQ CiF QH CNIOC” <<*■ m, By META SIMMINS
|f I | y. 1/A AI A J V_x 1 k3ll jljlN Vj 1 j Thrilling Portrayal of Life Behind Prison Bars * Author of" Hushed ip
FIRST READ THIS:—
JACK RIMINGTON, th* hern of the story, and, a man with a mysterious st
cret. proposes to and is accepted by
BETTY LUMSDEN, the . harming .'<»”ng of
SIR GEORGE LUMSDEN who. however, is opposed to Jack because nf th* lat
ter’s poverty, but favors
PAUL SAXE, k mflhonairr. Pew .ns te.'used f'» marry after telling him
that she Is enraged m lack Ret’v r k Ater,
MRS. EDITH BARRINGTON, suddenly - t.s from France and horrifies
Bett' bv declaring that her p.-yt nusr a rd,
EDMOND LEVASSEUR, v-bom sr.e n » se-if'tiv when a girl, ar.d whom
she thought dead, has appeared « r ■ demands 2,000 pounds < SIO,OOOI in ten
dav«’ time, nr he will tell
ANTHONY BARRINGTON everything four days are left and Mrs Bar-
rington begs Refty to borrow tb< money front Saxe Hew is horrified a’
•he proposal and refuse*. b- ■ after a frantic appeal from her sister. < ><r>-
se.r** The next da\ Betty t** epb-.re to Saxe and he consents t<. give her
?he mor.ev. but .nsts’s 1! A’ ■ ■»* <ll at hi< bouse at 11 o’clock that night
Betty oan no’ refuse That e*'ernnon Rimington gets a note from Saxe
fiFKing hU”. ’o oal! at 11 20 <-. that night Rimington is puzzled, but
goe« end •etorisr.ed ’o see ’-e namepate of
J. J. ENS, on the ratling, this mar. being the money-lender whose
pertrc■ r* d'Ove
TOBY PIVAtrON. Ta■ k’s brother, to South Africa. Rimington ascends the
sta if but Is starred to hear a woman’s scream Tie dashes into a room
and finds to his horror Pew stand:- g over a dead man with a flagger in
her hand The light* f. ;ddenly gn nut Jack calls. ’Betty!"
—Now Go On With the Story
TODAY’S INSTALMENT.
P?rt I. (Continued.)
There wr* r.« reply, and it seemed to
Rimington that some instinct outside and
beyond Ximselt, F<w sense more than
I X>’d him tha* h* was alone Alone
■ ’ ’ thX etlddenly darkened room, in a
K* :.ge honFs with a dead man’
Bbv (Betty!” His b'ee’h caught with a
H. sen sibilant his* sounded dts-
■ tly in the deathly 'en«-e <>i the room.
must dn some’hing. He could not
is d rhere in that darkness. He took a
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I Mr. Bosh--He’s the Busy Guy! (())(()) Copyright, 1912, by International Newsservice. ((Hi)) By Winsor McCay
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‘'♦ep forward, then stopped, brought up
right and rigid, his nerves tingling, his
scalp crisped Downstairs in that crowd
ed hall there had broken nut a clamor of
clocks striking in many tones ami halt
ing cadences the hour of midnight.
J’he sound brought home a new thought
lo Rimington s mind That open door in
the street below, the voices of those
flocks, would be calling the attention of
passers-b\ Some belated wayfarer a
denizen of the street itself where people
sought repose so late would be coming
THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN ANT) NEWS: MONDAY, JUNE 3. 1912
in to meet perhaps on the staircase a
white-faced girl whose xvild 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 lav at his feet But the dark
ness betrayed him He slipped, stumbled
and saved himself before he actually
reached the floor by a hand outstretched,
a hand that encountered something damp
and :Jlmp the blood of the murdered
man ,\hother moment and his groping
hands had touched the body Itself He
felt his flesh touch flesh, stiff and scarcely
cold.
A wave of nausea swept him. uncon
sciously he broke into a cry. and. raising
himself, caring nothing now for noise or
location, stumbled on till his hands, out-*
stretched before him, brought him up
<lead 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 light 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 hy the llgh’s 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 concealed a
mouse
only the knife at the foot of that hud-
died heap of clothes which looked gr-
Tesquely unhuman, those winking gerns
on the table, remained to assure i un ti.at.
the thing which had happened war: not
some hideous dream.
Just 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.
W ith an effort he bent and turned the
body round, so that he might examine its
face. L’ntll that moment the more fact
of death, and the manner by which death
had come into that room, had been
enough; but now He drew back
with a startled cry, and stood staring
down at ir. He hardly who or what,
he had expected to see, but not this.
For the man at his fcpt. his parchment
face ivory-hued In death, his scant, un
venerable hair clotted with blood, was
the man the world knew as .1 J Fitz
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 he had raised
no lethal weapon against him
So fate rested the man’s punishment
out nf his hands! As Rimington looked
at hiir he had a strange feeling that
death had wiped out n<> score.
Hr stepped to the door. He had not
closed it behind him on entrance, he
knew that . l>ut it was elo.-ed n<»w Was
he locked in? He tried it. and found It
to yield to hla touch, and stepping out
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 heating 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. Loud, sharp, imperative—some
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 1
whirred and sharply chimed the quarter
of an hour, but that was all. Then knock
ing and ringing were reepated—ceased.
Before their vibration died there came to
him another sound—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 <rime, 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 back window and lowered him
self over the sill. . An ivy vine helped
him to climb down until with a gasp of
relief he felt his feet on terra firma 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 stree' lamp
when it rolled up and in spite of his ex
citement he noticed the driver eyed him
curiouslj and suspfciously 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,
hut instead pull*'*] out a little bag. Hold
ing it to the light that streamed inter
mittently through the cab windows, he
gasped, “Betty's hag." and sank back
with a gmai: The hag fell to the floor
of the taxi-ab and Jack heard something
inside it give a peculiar dinking noise.
He picked the thing up and dived his
hands into it. When he lifted the ion
tents out he uttered an inarticulate cry.
for there in his palm lav 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 s>ut.
Suddenly there came a crash against
the front door and with a start of fright
Mrs. Barrington rushed to it and opened
it. There, half swooning, lay her sister.
her face chalky white. Mrs. Barrington
hastily pulled the girl Inisde 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 ware spent by her lying
back on a pillow picturing to herself a
future as black as it was blank—a fu
tu-e 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!
I'azed. she staggered to a chair and
p-iileci out the remainder of the contents.
Soon another thousand pounds in notes
lav iii her lap, attached to which was a
slip of paper. In the same printed hand
writing she read "YOl’R HUSH
MONEY'.” .
That was all.
For a couple of seconds Mrs. Barring
tor. 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 the carpet.
"Your hush money!"
Continued Tomorrow.