Newspaper Page Text
THE GEOROIAW’S magazine page
“The Gates of
Silence”
By META SIMMINS,
Author of “Hushed Up."
TODAY’S INSTALLMENT.
The hours passed She heard 3 strike.
Then she must have dozed herself, for the
chiming of 4 came to her as the clarion
,an alarm. She started up. If Levas
„ur Intended to escape he should be
moving. After 5 some one in the house
mignt conceivably be astir.
She looked down at him and wondered
ho w to wake him, for a repugnance to
touch him filled her.
“Edmond!” She spoke his name soft
!v and the man started up with a gasp
ing sound and a look of fear in his eyes
that was never to leave her. Then in an
Install' he had recovered himself and
nas on his feet loking at the clock.
■Good gracious, is that the time? Four
o’clock" What the mischief did you let
me sleep so long for?"
“I did not know it was so late I must
have slept myself. But this is the best
time to make an attempt. It is too late
for anyone in the household to have sat
up. and to early for them to have risen.”
Levasseur stretched himself luxurious
ly. shaking himself like a dog.
“The worthy Barrington, then, is a
greater fool than I took him for,” he
said ‘He never came back?”
■ No. There have been no sounds in the
house.”
My freedom for a smoke.” he said,
with a yawn. He was turning over the
things on her writing table and found
her gold cigarette case. He held it up.
“May I?”
“Keep it? Oh, yes. And the money—
won’t you want the money?”
Levasseur smiled, but in his smile was
a touch of shame. "I am afraid I shall,”
he said; "but don’t»let me rob you.”
“It Is not jobbing me,” she said, brief
ly. She went into her bed room and took
out her dressing case, feeling with trem
bling fingers for the secret compartment
where the notes that had come to her
marked "hush money” Were hidden. Tak
ing them out. she stuffed them into a
little leather case, adding two or three
pounds in gold out of her own purse.
The "Hush Money.”
"There is the money that was to have
been used for your defense,” she said.
"Don't ask me how I got it. Don’t blame
me If it brings misfortune to you. But
take it out of this house —If you only
fling It away. The gold is my own. If
I had more you should have it and wel
come.”
Lavasseur stuffed the case Into his
breast pocket without looking at Its con
tents.
"You’re not a bad sort, Edith," he
said, "not half a bad sort.” He laid his
hand on her shoulder. "It’s to be adieu
this time, my dear,” he said. "And I
couldn't say why, but I'd like you to know
that I'm a bit sorry for the past—that I
recognize various rents In my moral ha
biliments. But I am not a murderer.”
He buttoned up his coat and Edith
stealthily and cautiously turned the key
In the door As she opened it, it made
hardly a sign of sound; outside the still
ness of sleep lay upon the house. She
glanced up and down; everything was
as usual. Not a sound; not a sight of any
thing stirring, only the <xie distant light
that burned always on the staircase.
“Come,” she whispered. "Everything
seems safe. Shall I come with you? Can
you manage the front door?”
He shook his head. "Don’t worry about
the door. There hasn’t been a door con
trived that I could not open from the
tnstde. at any rate. If any one came
upon us together, we should be lost. By
myself I am equal to any questions that
might be put to me,’’
The Trap,
He held out his hand to her. "Well,
good-bye.” he said. For an instant Edith
Barrington hesitated, then she clasped the
hand he held outstretched. The next mo
ment he was gone, and she stood alone
In the dimly lighted room.
Levasseur crept slowly along the corri
dor His footfall made practically no
sound on the heavy carpet. On the dis
tant staircase the faint glimmer of light
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If the Wishes of Sweethearts Came True
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Do You Think They'd Like It? brown jug and a loaf of bread, a friend to eat their salt and keep them from get-
HERE'S an old, old wish. Lovers have wished it since Eve lost Paradise. ting rusty, a dog to keep them kind, and a boat to go to the mainland when the
Haven’t you heard ’em? “If only just you and I were all alone on an island grows too small and they long for a roof garden and a summer show! If it
island in the far South Sea.” They never wish for a tent and a knife and fork, a came true, that wish, just as they wished it, wouldn’t they be scared?
burned, and he was grateful for It. for
he dreaded a false step which would
bring the house about his ears.
As he reached the top of the staircase
and descended, a figure, which for all
these weary hours had kept unceasing
vigil, rose and crept stealthily In his
wake.
Half way down the staircase was a
broad landing which overlooked the hall.
Levasseur paused and glanced over cau
tiously, for the light was almost below
him, a solitary electric torch held by a
bronze dancing girl. moment, as
he slackened his going, a hand descended
heavily on his shoulder and a suave voice
demanded, "May I ask what you are
doing In my house at this unseasonable
hour?”
Levasseur started violently. The grip
on his shoulder was like a vise, but with
a dextrlous twist —a twist which sent
his accoster reeling against the banis
ter —he wrenched himself free and went
rapidly down the stairs. The advantage
of a minute was all he needed. Once at
the front door, safety was in his grasp.
As she reached the last step the sharp
crack of a revolver rang loudly through
the house. Levasseur was conscious of
a sudden swift, red-hot stab of pain be
tween his shoulder-blades; a wall of
blackness seemed to rise up against him;
he struggled for breath against a flood
of mawkish warmness. and, gasping,
flung out his arms, staggered forward,
and fell heavily,
A very lifetime of thought flashed
across the man in that second, and the
dominant note of it all was that he was
dying—dying like a rat in a trap by the
hands of Edith's husband. The Ig
nominy of it—the ignominy of it! Ha
tred, black and cold, flooded over him—
hatred of the fate which had played him
so scurvy a trick —hatred of the woman
whose life he had ruined, and. of the man
who had been so swift to avenge what
he conceived to be a stain upon his honor.
Barringtort, running down, bent over
the prostrate man and raised him.
A horror of the thing he had done pos
sessed him. It seemed to him that the
baptism of the blood that gushed from
the wounded man’s mouth had cleansed
all his suspicion and jealousy from him.
"My God! What have I done?" he
cried.
"Murder.” gasped Levasseur —"foul,
unwarrantable murder!"
With feeble, groping hands he tore al
the disguising beard. For the moment
Barrington hardly noticed his action. He
was bus.' rolling up some of the rugs
that covered the parquet floor to make an
improvised pillow under the wounded
man’s head Having done so, he rushed
to the gong and beat on It In a frenzied
summons. As he went through the hall
>me Instinct made him glance up, and
there, peering over the banister, he saw
his wife’s white face.
The sight brought back his anger and
jealousy with a rush. He held up a
warning hand.
"Go back!” he said, sternly. “Go back.
This is no place for you."
The man on the floor, dying as he was,
smiled. He itm w without seeing to whom
the warning was addressed. Contemptu
ous hatred looked out of his eyes, domi
nating even the pain in them, as Bar
rington bent over him again
And at the sight of his white face. An
thony Barrington gave a startled cry.
You!” he said. "Os all men, you!"
The rrf&n on the floor laughed.
(*(|) Copyright 1912. National News Association (JfJ) By Nell Brinkley
“It s quits at last. Tony, isn’t it?” he
said, faintly.
"What were you doing in my wife's
room?" Barrington asked.
Levasseur’s Death.
For all his jealous anguish, he was tilled
with profound pity at the man’s condi
tion. and would have made an effort to
stem the hemorrhage, only Levasseur’s
hands beat him feebly away
Continued Tomorrow.
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Adfmral
Mobiography
f pOR fifty-eight years Admiral I
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1 But the story of Admiral Dewey’s J
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Advice to the '
Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
TRY TO FORGET HIM.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am deeply in lßve with a young
man, and we had a quarrel quite some
time ago, and he Is never the same. He
seems to pay more attention to another
young lady.
HEARBROKEN BLOND.
I am sorry, my dear, if you love this
man, for it really looks as if he cares
for you no more. Just make up your
mind to forget him, and the easiest wa»
to do that is by taking interest in a>
other. Don’t admit to yourself for
moment that your heart is broken; it
am sure it isn’t.
HE DOESN’T LOVE YOU.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am eighteen and am keeping
company with a young man four
vest’s my senior. He tells of his
love for me often, but very seldom
takes me out, although he goes out
often. FLORENCE.
Love expresses itself in other ways
than words. If his love is genuine he
will exert himself to entertain you. The
fact that he goes out often, and never
takes you. indicates that at least he
is not proud of your friendship. Don't
think of his kind of a man a second
time.
THROW HIM OVER FIRST.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
1 have been going with a yrfung
man for almost a year and have
had quarrels and made up again.
He told me that he loved me. and
went so far as to ask my parents'
consent to an engagement. The
same evening he said, ”1 am going
to throw you over; I do not love
you." ANXIOUS.
I am surprised that you hesitate, or
give him a second thought. “Throw
him over” first, and never take him
back again. He is a. cad and not worth
any woman’s love.
THE COMB’S MORNING STORY
You know the story the comb telh.
It's a very discouraging story, too.
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Natural pride should have its own say.
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Bea “Young Woman” in looks, always.
The grey hairs belong to the chaperon and
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Stay out of the grandmother class, until
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