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“THE GATES OF SILENCE”
FIRST READ THIS:—
JACK RIMINGTON, the hern of the story, and a man with a mysterious se
cret, proposes tn and is accepted by
BETTY LUMSDEN, the charming young daughter of
SIR GEORGE LUMSDEN, who. however, is opposed to Jack because of the lat
ter's poverty, but favors
•O PAUL SAXE, a millionaire, whom Betty has refused to marry after telling him
’ that she is engaged 1o Jack. Betty’s sister,
MRS. EDITH BARRINGTON, suddenly returns from France and horrifies
Betty by declaring that her first husband.
EDMOND LEVASSEUR, whom she married secretly when a girl, and whom
she thought dead, has appeared and demands 2.000 pounds <$10,000) in ten
days’ time, nr he will tell
ANTHONY BARRINGTON everything only four days are left and Mrs Bar
rington begs Bettx to 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 da\ Betty telephones to Saxe and he consents to give her
the money, but insists that she call at his house at 11 o’clock that night
Betty can not refuse That afternoon Rimington gets a note from Saxe
asking him to < all at 11:30 o'clock that night Rimington is puzzled, but
goes a lid is astonished to see the nameplate of
J, J. FITZSTEPH ENS, on the railing, this man being the money-lender whose
persecutions drove
TOBY RIMINGTON, Jack’s brother, to South Africa Rimington ascends the
stairs, but is startled tn hear a woman s scream He dashes Into a room
and finds tn his horror Betty standing over a dead man with a dagger in
her hand The lights suddenly go nut Jack calls. '‘Betty!" Betty van
ishes in the darkness and Rimington manages to escape from the house In
which he has been trapptWi Meantime Mrs Barrington anxiously awaits
the return of Bett\. who ultimately arrives. In a distressed and exhausted
condition without the money. Nevertheless, the SIO,OOO reaches Mrs Bar
rinrton by post the next morning
Who has sent this ’ hush money. ' as it Is described in the letter? And
what terril’le myster> is Betty Involved in? These are the questions Mrs.
Barrington asks herself Barrington surprises his wife and father-in-law
bx suddenly returning from Taris
—Now Go On With the Story
Sir George wheeled round, and. at the
sight of his son-in-law. the already apo
plectic red in his cheeks deepened.
“Good Lord! W here on earth have you
sprung from, \nthony ’ - ' He stared at ■
his son-in-law. the prej of an amaze-
The Dingbat Family Copyright 1912, National News Association By Herriman
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WS a \ZxL'
ment so profound that the very experi
ence of it was an insult. “<*ome in
come in. 1 did not know I was to be
honored by your company at breakfast,
nr I should have made an effort to pro
vide. something more worthy than the
rFTF ATLANTA GEORGIAN AXD'NEWS. WEDNESDAY. JENE 5. 1912.
congealed kidneys and marbled bacon that
are on the table Hodson, send the boy
down to the village on his bicycle for a
‘Times.’ ”
“Oh, don t do that. Sir George.’’ Bar
rington said., easily, as he shook hands.
“I’ll smooth these pages out in no time;
and they ought to smell deliciously—
they’ve been careering for the last ten
minutes about the rose garden. I’m most
awfully sorry to have shown such disre
spect for the ’Thunderer,’ but I was so
extraordinarily interested in a particular
item of news that I lost my grip on the
confounded thing, and an unexpected
capful of wind tore it out of my hand."
There was something in Barrington's
more than usually suave voice, something
in the slightly veiled look of amusement
in his eyes, that, if it did not claim Sir
George s buffled feelings, at least mad* 1
him grasp after his self-control. He
glanced at the son-in-law who had
dropped to his knees on th** floor, and
was straightening out the pages of the
paper with those beautiful, sensitive
looking hands that always irritated, w-hile
they compelled his admiration.
The Newspaper Item.
“Good Lord!" he said again. “Don’t
do that, Anthony there’s no necessity.
Hodson, lake those pages from Mr Bar
rington Come" he made an almost
ludicrous effort to throw’ some hospitable
heartiness into his voice “where are you
going to sit, Anthony? Take Betty’s
place I believe my daughter is affecting
an indisposition this morning and tell us
what this amazing item of information
was that actually Interested you in a com-
A Story of Love, Mystery and Hate, with a
Thrilling Portrayal of Life Behind Prison Bars
mon daily newspaper. I thought you
never read ’em."
“Neither do I, in a general way," Bar
rington said. “Not English newspapers,
anyway. But this happened* to be some
thing with a personal application--a mur
der, in which the principal characters ap
pear to be acquaintances of mine. Neither
of them particularly reputable, f hasten
to add, though, no doubt the name of
one of them may be familiar to you—Mr.
J J. Fitzstephen."
"The money lender—J. J. Fitzstephen,
of Tempest street?’’
Barrington stared at his father-In-lav*
for a second, hardly realizing for the mo
ment that the question had come from
him—the voice Ip which it was uttered
was so flat and thin. Sir George was
pulling at his white mustache with nerv
ous fingers, the purple tingle In his face
strangely faded.
"The same man. fine of the most no
torious scoundrels that ever cumbered the
earth." Barrington said, sternly. “It’s
not a healthy thing to say, put one can
feel it in one’s heart to be glad that his
power for doing evil is at an end. No
doubt, the poor wretch who has put his
head in the hangman's noose for him
had suffered enough at his hands to be
excused any act of mad justice. Not
that his own record is particularly sa
vory.’’
He paused, conscious that Sir George
was not listening to him, and his eyes fell
on his wife.
"Some one you know, Tony?"
The question was forced from Edith
Barrington. She felt her lips fumble
over the words for the imprisoned fear in
her heart was stirring with a dull pain.
It was ridiculous. What connection could
there be between Betty and this uglj'
thing of which Tony spoke—and yet her
fingers closed on that sltj# of paoer that
had fallen from Betiy’a' hand, the slip
on which was written this very address:
88-B Tempest street. She felt extraordi
narily ill at ease., conscious of her father's
strange agitation, of her husband’s more
than half-cOntemptuous appreciation of
-it. She had a maddening feeling of being
caught suddenly in the meshes of a net of
mystery that was tightening -strangling!}-
about her.
"Yes. darling," Barrington said, cheer
fully, snapping a piece of”the cold toast
between his fingers. “One of those dis
reputable acquaintances nt nrine you so
often deplore. A chap who was with me
in the schools more ago than I
care to remember. It's one of the oddest
things out that it was only the other day
that I knocked up against him in Paris
by a quite mad accideeit. Edmond Levas
seur, he calls himself. I expect I'm one
of the few people in the world who hap
pens to know that was not his name"
"Edmond Levasseur!” Edith Barring-'
ton was utterly unconscious that she had
repeated the name aloud. She stared at
her husband with wide eyes that were
full of horror. The air of the gay chintz
hung room that was bright with the early
morning sunshine had turned suddenly
cold. The spectre of the past had started
up here on its very threshold and was
knocking long and loudly on the door of
her heart.
But Barrington was utterly unconscious
of the horror that was deepening in his
By META SIMMINS
Author of “Hushed Up ’ ’
wife's eyes—he was so entirely bent on
shocking the fastidiousness of his father
in-law.
"Yes —Levasseur. I expect I must have
Spoken of him to you—a perverted genius
if there ever was one. An absolutely
charming ruffian; and the end of it all to
hang for a peculiarly ugly and sordid
murder”—
"Hang!” interjected Mrs. Barrington,
stupidly. ‘‘Oh, no, it isn't possible. He
can’t hang."
Barrington glanced at her with a touch
of irritation. He disliked contradiction
it was a darling weakness of his, of
which, as a rule, his wife was tenderly
regard fui.
‘‘Now, why on earth do you say that,
Edith?” he asked. “Os course, he will
hang He was caught red-handed on the
very spot where the crime was commit
ted. The plainest case of murder and
theft possible. He was after Fitzstephen’s
famous ruby—the Lake of Blood—a re
markably beautiful thing that has se
duced hundreds before him into crime.
It was found upon him when the police
arrested him in Tempest street last
night.”
The Crouching Fate.
At the sudden stoppage of the cab Rim
ington glanced up with a stare and met
the eyes of the chauffeur, his hand
closing over the jewel and the bag that
had held it. There was a healthy curi
osity in the driver's eyes, but no malice
The nervous tension that had gripped
Rimington relaxed with an almost intol
erable sense of relief
"What's up?" he asked, over the
chauffeur's shoulder he caught a glimpse
of the vista of an unfamiliar street and a
gateway with high, wooden £ates. set
carelessly ajar—the entrance, apparently,
to a stable yard. “This is not'Charing'
Cross.” he said, with a sudden upleap
ing of suspicion.
“No. guUnor, you're right. It ain't,”
the little man said with a grin. "But this
here's my garage, and I'm goin' no fur
ther this mornin'. You're within easy
walking distance o’ —there, nod, if 1 ain’t
clean forgot the address you give me!
Clean forgot it, 1 have. Twig? No more
ain't 1 taken up any fare between here
and the Square—blest if I ave. Twig?"
He pointed to the fare-indicator, that
had indeed registered nothing, for the
flag was still set. "For Hire.” Riming
ton slipped Betty's bag and the things
it had contained back into the pocket of
his coat and shook his head.
“I'm afraid I don't twig,” he said.
"Why this burst of philanthropy—and
why the dickens can't you drive me to the
Strand?” But he got out of the taxi as
he spoke, and. stood with bis hand fum
bling in his waistcoat pocket.
The chauffeur, who was busy unfasten
ing the strap of his number badge from
his buttonhole, looked up and winked.
“A hobby o' mine, philanthropy,” h<
said. “Tikes me sudden-llke sometimes,
like a spasm, as yer might say. Speshully
when I sees a gent o’ your profession at
this hour, with them nasty stines on 'ls
cuffs and sparklers In ‘ls ’and.”
Rimington glanced down with a thrill
of nausea at his cuff, and made an -in
voluntary movement to push it back.
The chauffeur laughed.
Continued Tomorrow.