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t r |'IT 1 A A*l’ 1/ O L' 011 £7 NT L? ’ ’ Story of Love, Mystery and Hate, with a By META SIMMINS |
I I |r , v 1/A I | ,i / L7l k7lj < 1 jl \V_ jr j Th'rilhng Portrayal of Life Behind Prison Bars Author of “ Hushed Up"
READ THIS FIRST:—
JACK RIMINGTON, th* man with the secret Rimington Is Invert by
BETTY LUMSDEN, the daughter of
SIR GEORGE LUMSDEN, who, however, would like Betty to marry
PAUL SAXE. The. latter, while outwardly her friend, is scheming io separate
her from Jack. An opportunity arises when Betty is Implored by her sis
ter,
MRS. BARRINGTON, to help her raise SIO,OOO to silence the blackmailing
demands of
EDMOND LEVASSEUR, whom she thought was dead, and who had forced her
into a trick marriage some years previously Realizing that her husband.
ANTHONY BARRINGTON, is a man who would never forgive her for conceal
ing this affair. Mrs Barrington, who has no other means of getting the
money to silence lievasseur. suggests that Betty should ask Saxe to lend
her the amount. Betty reluctantly agrees, and goes to Saxe’s rooms for
the money.. Rimington is lured there, also, with a view to compromising
_ Betty in his eyes, and he arrives In time to discover her standing over
the body of a dead man with a dagger In her band Betty vanishes in the
darkness, and Rimington manages to escape from the house in which he
has been trapped
Meantime. Mrs Barrington anxiously awaits the return of Betty, who
ultimately arrives at the Croft in a distressed and exhausted condition
without the money Nevertheless, the SIO,OOO reaches Mrs. Barrington by
post the following morning
Who has sent this '‘Hush Money.'' as It Is described in the letter’
And what terrible mystery Is Betty Involved In’ These are the questions
Mrs. Harrington asks herself Barrington surprises his wife and father
in-law by suddenly returning from Paris Ho Is picking up the morning
/' newspaper from the floor to read to them an extraordinary item of news
/ that he had noticed while coming in on the train. ,
/ The item is about the murder, and states that Levasseur has been ar-
1 rested for the crime "The Lake of Blood," a wonderful ruby belonging to
* Fitzstephen. was found on him In the meantime Rimington leaves the
cab that he took after leaving the house of death, and the cab driver calls
attention to red stains on his cuffs.
—Now Go On With the Story
"Bless yer. I don’t care. Yer may be a
bloomin' anti-vaccinationist fur all I
know It ain't no business o' mine wot
yer are or w'y. Only I Jolly well knows
The Dingbat Family Even a Pumpkin May Be Missed - gg Copyright 1912, National News Association Py Herriman
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as I don’t want tor know I Jolly well
don’t want ter be mixed up In any perlite
inquiries, that’s w’y I’m fakin' no risks.
Yor never knows yer luck, as the sayin’
THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN AND NEWS.
goes, and it might chawnce ter be mine
to be called as a witness fur the crown—
and that’s too much 'appiness nowad'ys
The fierce light that shines upon the
throne ain't in it. So. though I'm pleased
to 'ave obliged a gent"—he passed, and
slung off his coat, glancing at Itimlngton
with eyes whose twinkling cheerfulness
had never altered throughout his astound
ing speech "it's best to Te on the safe
side. Good-night ter yer. sir Tike the
first turning ter the left and yer'll find
yer way right enough."
He Jerked the carefully folded coat
from his left to his right arm. ignoring
the coin Itimlngton deftly proffered, and
was gone before he had realized his in
tention. vanished between the gates that
led into the deserted yard
The Brand of Cain.
For a second Rimington stared after
him. then turning rapidly, walked in the
direction he had indicated. And as he
went a question beat itself out In bis
brain, fitting itself to the ring of his
feet on the flags, like sn echo: Was
there already upon him the brand of
Caln? Else why should this man, who
knew nothing, lake him for the murderer
he was not’
The street, long, with disconcerting
twists and turns In it, tunning between
tall, close-eyed houses, grim and forbid
ding looking in the dickering light of the
slree' lamps, led Rimington surprisingly
to a stop at a block of buildings whose
dimly lighted windows told of occupa
tion, that presently he recognized as the
back of Charing Cross hospital.
He had his bearings now. In a few
minutes he was Inserting his latchkey
Into the lock of the house in Chandos
i street, where be lodged indescribably
thankful to find that for some reason the
house, was not locked up, nor the front
i door on the chain as usual. It was no
: small mercy to be enabled to escape the
shrewdish curiosity of his ever inquisitive
. landlady.
He occupied two rooms on the .first
floor. In the sitting room the gas, turned
low, showed him the uninviting, shadowy
outlines of the cold supper that had been
' spread for Mm. His first movement on
turning up the gas was to unlock the
tantalus on the sideboard and pour him
self out a stiff peg of whisky.
He drank the spirits, sprawled out at
full length in the lounge chair into which
he had filing himself He felt on the
verge of collapse, faint and spent, like a
man who, by some superhuman effort,
has managed to crawl to bare safety
after hours of battle with a treacherous
. sea.
For the moment he seemed almost in
capable <>f any consecutive train of
thought. The varied events of the night
flitted phantom-llke through his mind In
detached incidents like the fragmentary
happenings of some horrible and evil
dream. The unexpected reception of
Saxe’s letter which had sent him to that
strange old house, where the brooding si
lence was yet vibrant with the voices of
Time—that awful momentary vision the
doorway of that upper room had framed
—Betty Lumsden's face with the youth
and laughter blotted out by that look of
frozen horror.
"Heavens!” He started up suddenly 4n
his chair, and the words were an inspira
tion rather than an exclamation. "If it
were only a dream!”
He put his hands to his face with a
sudden movement.
Horrible Thought*.
"Betty!” He cried her name aloud in
the bitterness of his soul. It wasn’t pos
sible to doubt her; whatever she had done,
whatever madness had come upon her,
not for a moment could he believe that
her soul was less white, lees exquisitely
Innocent than it had been when —wak it
only yesterday, or a century ago?—he
had kissed her on the lips in that quiet
backwater on the Thames, where the
lilies started up wide-eyed at the glimpses
of sky between the slow-moving trees.
It was monstrous, inconceivable, the
thought that Betty should be mixed up
with anything so hideous and sordid—
that Betty’s white robes of innocence
should be trailed through the dust of
publicity, her name made a butt for
newspaper gossip. There must he some
way out.
And then, chill on the hot tumult of
his thoughts, there came the realization
that already Fate had stage-managed the
affair, so that a scapegoat had been pro
vided Himself. It was he who stood be
tween Betty and publicity. It was his
face that these upleaplng lights had
shown to the besieging police, not Bet-
ty’s. it was he for whom Saxe had so J
carefully laid and skillfully baited the I
trap—he who was caught fast in the vise
like teeth of circumstantial evidence.
Rimington’s hand tightened closely on
the evil, lovely gem in his pocket, press
ing it till the facets ate into the flesh.
Heavens, what a trip! Even to this
thing that he had found and captured—
for Betty’s sake!
Sitting there motionless, he seemed to
see the whole scroll of his fate unroiled
before him. It would be perfectly easy
to trace him—Saxe would have seen to
that; and then there was abundant evid
ence of motive, if that were needed. His
lips contractedjn a smile that had no ac
quaintance with mirth. No one who knew
him had any doubt as to his real feelings
regarding the dead man; lie had voiced
them often enough. He had never made
any secret of his contempt and hatred,
not only for Fitzstephen himself, but for
the whole tribe of which he was a repre
sentative—of his intention of repaying
with interest his debt of hatred to the
man who had ruined his brother. It had
not been of physical force that he thought
when he spoke to Betty; his punishment
was to have been directed at Fitzsteph
en's one vulnerable spot—his dull greed of
money.
But now—Rimington laughed aloud sud
denly, and the sound fell, incredibly harsh
and forlorn, upon the silence of the room.
All the boyish bombast of his club talk
would be dragged up against him. It
was only a week since I hat he had spoken
in the smoking room to Lethbridge and
J Bondrax of how his finsters itched to
| horsewhip the man. Lethbridge and
Bondrax —the most notorious collectors
and retailers of gossip in the club! He
could imagine with what avidity they
would drag up these details against him.
Until that moment the ugly, mad events
of the night had driven the thoughts of
his projected journey to Westport from
his mind—the thought of that secret
which had loomed so large and glorious
on the horizon of his fortune had vanished
from his recollection. They recurred to
him now on the heels of that thought of
how he had boasted to Betty of his power
to punish Fitzstephen, all gray and tinged
with the gloom that filled his mind. Sup
pose he had failed—suppose, with all its
fair promise, the Japanese government
withdrew and refused to ratify their tacit
offer?
The Black Lookout.
The world grew suddenly dark and
without hope. Perhaps it was all a de
lusion; perhaps he would wake to find
this discovery of his and the reward it
promised only a golden dream, and Betty
as far off and unattainable as ever.
And it came to Jack Rimington as he
sat there that he would be glad if it were
sure he could but wake and find this
night’s happenings a dream also, and the
ugly spider of Tempest street alert and
alive, spinning his webs wherewith to
catch the souls of men.
Continued Tomorrow.