Newspaper Page Text
The Georgian’s Magazine Page
“The Gates of Silence”
By Meta Stmmins, Author of “Hushed Up ”
TODAY’S INSTALLMENT.
“Tour wife. Tony? Well, that's gpod!”
The exclamatian was redolent of irony, in
spite of the effort with which it was de
livered Barrington s hands clenched at
the words, as though to keep themselves
from doing further damage to this vic
tim of his violence
“What do you know of my wife?”
"More than you do. perhaps.” The
words came at long intervals, punctuated
with distressing, agonizing gasps. "I
ought to. considering
Levasseur's eyes closed The wool was
becoming very dark Flven malice seemed
hardly able to sustain his strength, and
the victim of his revenge began to re
cede far, far a war
"Considering
"—That 1 knew her first'”
The heave lids opened and the glazing
eyes looked eagerly up at the man bend
ing over him "She was my wife?"
"Your wife? Barrington cried, hoarse
ly.
"Yes. or thought she was.” came the
labored answer
For a moment Anthony Barrington
stared at the dving man in speechless
horror This revelation was so infinitely
more terrible than anything his worst
suspicions had ever leaped to He turned
■ on the man with a bitter laugh
"You lie!” he cried ‘ You infernal
scoundrel, you He"'
In his madness and pain, it is hard to
say what he might have done at that
moment had not some of the servants,
roused by that frenzied beating on the
gong, come hurrying acmes the hall
With a sudden miraculous effort., Ed
mond Levasseur raised himself on his el
bow
"Edith!" he gasped, hideously Ed—"
And dropped hack deed
The spirit had been willing, but th®
flesh too weak to carry out his vengeance
to the full
Only one person tn that group under
stood, and that was Edith Barrington’s
husband.
The Truth at Last.
The Inspector looked at Barrington
coolly
"It's a strange ending to a strange
story, str.” he said. "If it is the ending
But one never knows
"One never knows. ' repeated Barring
ton. mechanically.
Although throughout this Interview with
the detective-inspector In charge of the
Fltsstephen case -who had been sum
moned hurriedly at his own desire--he
had acted like the cool, level-headed man
of affairs he was. Barrington's thoughts
had been far away from the library, had
been all the time upstairs with the white
faced, terrified, guilty woman who, heaven
help him. was his wife
"It’s an extraordinary thing why he
should have com® here of aJI places In
London,” continued the officer ''Extract
dinary' But then, the whole case is ex
traordinary "
His shrewd eyes rested for a moment
on the artist's face. It certainly was more
than extraordinary that this escaped
criminal, who had evaded the vigilance
of the London police for so many days,
should have been run to earth In this
house of all houses, the detective was not
ignorant of the relationship existing be
tween Mrs Barringtons sister and the
man at present under arrest for the mur
• der of the money lender in Tempest
street
"When a man's hunted he hasn't got
the instinct of the lower animals, he
does idiotic things.” he said
"Yes.” repeated Barrington
"There's not much more to be done to
night. or rather, this morning, sir I don't
think I'd better keep you any longer "
The inspector paused, as if expecting
comment, then, hearing none, moved to
ward the door Barrington, with the in
stinct of ingrained courtesy, moved with
him toward it, holding it open for him
to pass out, returning the man's "Good
morning" with a similar greeting
Terrible Thoughts.
The door closed behind the police of
ficer and Barrington was alone He went
acroes the room and sat down by his writ
ing table, resting his head on his hand,
trying to think, and the thought that
filled his mind was --not the fact that he
had killed a man, not so much as a fleet
ing thought to any danger he might run
through his committal of an act of mad
justice, but one thought only that Edith,,
his wife, was a dishonored woman! A
cheat! A creature whose every action for
the years as hie wife had been a He.
The thought racked him with a fierce
pain He groaned at the degradation of
it. In his ears rang an echo of the dy
Ing man's death rattle, before his eyes
danced a vision of his terrible mocking
smile, and the vision seemed so awful that
only death could blot out the remembrance
of ft
He got up Inaction was not possible
He felt that he could never be still again
while he lived—that only one thing re
mained for htm death, after he had
choked life from the lying woman up
stairs Death! He came to a sudden
pause at the thought of his child, a
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thought so insupportable that a dew- of
pain started out upon his brow His
child! What future lay before it? A flood
1 of other thoughts so black and terrible
that be hardly formulated them even to
' himself swept over him With a bitter
cry he rushed from the room.
A Physical Fear.
Outside the door, however, he paused
To reach the place where his wife was
be must pass the room where the thing
' that had once been a man lay. Actual
physical fear laid its cold hand on him.
With an effort like that of a child com
' polled to pass through an empty room
, be made a dash for the stairs and reached
him wife's apartment
The sitting room door stood ajar; the
bed room door was locked He knocked
loudly upon it.
There was an instant's hesitation, the
1 faintest whisper of voices, and it was
opened to him by the housekeeper, her
face wet with tears
T don't think you should come in, sir,”
she said "Mrs Barrington is not well ”
’ j Barrington looked at her with wild eyes.
i Was she in the plot to hoodwink him too?
"I can not help that," he said, roughly.
The woman fell back a little, cowed by
his manner, for, in spite of his popularity
in his household, Anthony Barrington was
a mau who was feared by his servants.
"The doctor said my lady was not to be
excited,” she continued, with a certain
, doggedness
Ami likely tn excite Mrs Barrington''”
Anthony demanded, angrily. "Go down
stairs. 1 wish to speak privately—to your
mistress."
The woman went with some unwilling
ness, and Barrington entered the bedroom
and locked the door. He said nothing,
but stood there with his hack against
the door which he had locked, and looked
across the room at the woman w'ho, at
the first sound of his voice, had sprung
up from the couch where she had flung
herself tine look at her Husband's face
.ter that the end had come, that the
blow bad fallen at last as she had always
known It must, and with the knowledge
all the nervous trembling, the agonizing
suspense and tension, relaxed She faced
him like a woman of stone; she would
not fight, deny, or He. she placed herself
in the hands of Fate and wafted
FACE TO FACE.
St.lll Barrington did not speak, but
looked at her grimly The feeling crept
In upon her that her very bfe depended
on her returning that look
"What have you to say for yourself?"
he asked at last "Why should not I kill
you as you stand there—send you to Join
your lover?”
His voice broke the spell which bound
her
"Tony, what do you mean'’ Don't stand
staring at me with those hard eyes, or I
shall go mad! Am I so little to you that
sou should condemn me, unheard?”
"You have been so much to toe in the
past,” he cried, "that ft is only the
thought of my son that keeps me power
less- he is my son?”
"Tony!" Edith Barrington made a few
unsteady steps toward him. then fell
back, quelled by the contempt, the ha
tred in his face For one supreme in
stant physical fear dominated her men
tal anguish, and she dreaded that she
was alone with a madman Then she
told herself that on her calmness de
pended her safety, and forced herself to
look at him steadfastly "You have no
right to ask me such a question,” she
said with quiet dignity.
"No right" " The man laughed, such a
hideous travesty of mirth that it chilled
her blood
"<>h. I deserve all the blame and scorn
you can cast upon me. ' she cried, "for I
have been a coward, but not a bad wom
an, Tony not in intention--faithful to
you and loving ah, heaven knows how
loving’"'
"Bad!” he ejaculated, with a sneer
"What do you call a woman who per
jures herself at the altar, whose every
down-sitting and uprising for years was
a lie"”
"Tony, at any rate, whatever has hap
pened. you can nol forget that 1 am your
wife ton can not repudiate me. For lit
tle Phil's sake”
”1 am not so sure of that.” Barrington
said "not so sure first that you are my
wife Who were you what were you
when you married me?”
He looked at her keenly, more natural
ly. as It seemed, and with a little cry
Edith stretched out her hands to him
"I believed that I was a widow when
1 married you." she said
. "A widow "' Again he laughed, harsh
ly and unmusically, and there was such
brutal meaning in the repeated words
that Edith, meeting his eyes, felt hot
shame tingle swiftly from head to foot.
Yes, Edmond Levasseur's widow "
Her utterance of the name of the dead
man seemed to her inexplicably —to add
fuel to the fire of her husband's anger.
She did not know that in It Harrington
Imagined he found a confirmation of all
his doubt of her Edmond's Levasseur!
That was what lie said to himself, with
bitterness If this story she was telling
were true this story that she poured out
with a quick flood of impassioned words,
finding in her anguish and her fear ati
unexpected eloquence she must have
known the falseless of 'his assumed
name, hat e known the real identity of th»
man who called himself by It, as he
knew it
Continued Tomorrow.
THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN AND NEWS. FRIDAY, .TTLY 12. 1912.
I -Z2Z .
The Philosophy of Shoes ::: By Garrett P. Serviss
It Is More Important to Have Your Feet Properly Clothed Than Your Head
• (These pictures are reproduced by permission, from "Good Housekeeping Magazine” for July.)
DR. WOODS HUTCHINSON de
scribes man. in Good House
keeping .Magazine for July, as
"the tenderfoot of the animal king
dom,” and then he goes on to give
what nobody seems to have thought it
worth while to give before—some good
scientific advice on the subject of shoes.
What he says is amusing as well as
instructive.
Dr. Hutchinson makes another state
ment which will probably surprise most
people, although It Is evidently true,
viz, that men. and women, too, have the
biggest feet on earth in proportion to
the size and weight of the animal they
ca rry.
The fact is that man. as a product
of evolution, has not yet had time to
develop his pedal , r®rnfti®s into the
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Is it any -vonctar fh a l mir ccmmcnest dr eani j s that of bounding tn 50-foot
curves through rhe air like a giant kangaroo?
best possible form to serve the new
uses to which he now puts them. Since
he quit climbing trees and sporting
among the branches in the tropical for
ests of Tertiary times, and began to
stand upon his hind paws, he has been
more concerned with the growth <jf his
brain than with the development of his
feet. Nature would, no doubt, have
helped him more rapidly if he had not
defeated nearly all her efforts by incas
ing his feet in hard, unyielding boxes,
which, its civilization has proceeded,
have become more and mor® Hdiculoust
In their ugliness-and their unsuitabili
ty to the proper use of feet.
The Nice Adjustments.
The anatomist sees, with admiration,
the nice adjustments which nature has
made in transforming the hind limbs
of arboreal (tree-climbing) creatures of
the arte and monkey type into the legs
and feet of the upright animal called
man. and. at the same time, he views
«it It disgust the manner in which man
has spoiled some of nature's neatest ef
fects. The naked, uncontined and un
tormented human foot is a marvel not
only of fitness for its purpose, but of
beauty of form. It is even a finer piece
of natural machinery than the hand.
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' Such fashionable monstrosities as toothirck toes and French heels, also the crimes committed in the name of reform
i such as square toes and straight inner edaev
About the last thing that a shoemeke- would dream of doing is to really
look at the foot that he is to shoe.
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and ordinarily it has harder work to do.
But while the hand has been left free to
use and develop all its latent possibili
ties. the foot has been cramped and
hampered, until, in civilized man. it has
become a thing which he is glad to
conceal He goes stumping aloftg with
it. without employing one-tenth part of
its real powers The toes are jammed
together, the natural points of support
are more or less disregarded, and the
entire wonderful mechanism is thrown
out of gear.
< >f course, even savages have to pro
tect the bottom of the foot, but their
manner of doing so is. fundamentally,
better than ours, for they do not rob
the member of more than half its use
fulness No spurred and booted Euro
pean could ever match the grace and
dignity of locomotion exhibited by an
American Indian striding along In his
easy-fitting moccasins. The sandals of
tlie Greeks and Romans gave at least
some opportunity for the feet to per
form their natural functions. In cold
climates we have to cover the feet, ami
leather is. no doubt, all things consid
ered. the very best material that has
yet been found for footgear; but thr
trouble is that our ways of using it are
open to a vast number of objections.
Man. in more senses than one, is the
tenderfoot of the animal kingdom, ,
The cobbler of genius has yet to ap- '
pear. Thomas Carlyle forgot the shoes :
when he speculated on the philosophy '
of clothes.
Fashion is responsible for more ,
harm-doing in the matter of footgear ,
than in any other of the numberless
vaga'ies with which she delights to
worry her submissive slaves Nowhere !
has fashion been so cruel and so de- t
fiant of nature's laws as in her deal- l
Ings with the feet. Look at the name- ,
less suffering that she has for cen- :
turies inflicted upon hundreds of mil- <
lions of women in China. But she is. '
in this respect, almost equally cruel in '
whaX we call more civilized lands. If
all the groans and cries of pain that <
are daily wrung from men. women and t
children in Europe and America by the •
excruciating ills that result from the
wearing of tight or wrongly formed or ,
stupidly fitted shoes could be collected ,
and poured forth from one huge m£ga- ,
phone the united sound of woe would ,
not be pleasant to listen to. (
When fashion prescribes absurd
headgear we may lament the violence
done to our aesthetic sensibilities, but
there is. usually, no physical injury
caused by inartistic hats. The case is '
different with misshapen shoes. Huge. '
sqtaare-toed shoes that look like river
scows, arrow-pointed shoes that re- ‘
semble in outline the bow of a college •
racing boat, turnip-toed shoes that ape ’
the nose of a triceratops, and shoes '
with peg heels and precipitous fronts •
that make women sway like ballet *
dancers or totter like, inexperienced t:
stilt-walkers, are a source of positive «
injury as well as of discomfort to the -
wearers. ,
Some Expert Advice. »
The remedy would seem to be. when
the shop contains nothing hut ready- *
made absurdiities, to have all shoes '
made to order—but that is costly, and. *
besides, how many would know enough '
to prescribe the shape that a shoe 5
should have? x
You will find some expert advice *
about this in Dr. Hutchinson's article. '
and you would do well to pay special -
heed when he says. For heaven's sake. , <
have 'em big enough!” |e
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“A Department of Famous Shoes.” J-
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The shoes we are offering are unusuallv stvlish and
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-E “A Department of Famous Shoes ’