Newspaper Page Text
The Georgiain’s Magazine Page
“The Gates
Bv Meta Strum ins, A
I
TODAY’S INSTALLMENT.
"Your wife. Tony? Well, that's good!”
The exclamatian was redolent of irony, in
sn :te of the effort with which it was de
livered. Barrington s hands clenched at
the words, as though to keep themselves
tr.-.m 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 word was
becoming very dark. Even malice seemed
hardly able to sustain his strength, 'and
the victim of his revenge began to re
cede far. far away.
Considering—”
1 That I knew her first!"
The heavy lids opened and the glazing
eves looked eagerly up at the man bend
ing over him "She was my wife!”
"Your wife?" Barrington cried, hoarse
ly.
I'es. or thought she was,” came the
labored answer.
For a moment Anthony Barrington
stared at the dying 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 lie!”
In his madness and pain, it is hard to
sa' what he might have done at that
moment had not some of the servants,
roused by that frenzied .beating on the
gong, come hurrying across the hall.
With a sudden miraculous effort, Ed
mond Levasseur raised himself on his el
bow
Edith!' he gasped, hideously. Ed—”
And dropped back dead.
The spirit had been willing, but the
flesh too weak to carry out his vengeance
to the full.
Only one person in that group under
stood, and that was Edith Barrington's
husband.
The Truth at Last.
The inspector looked at Barrington
coolly.
'lt's a strange ending to a strange
store, sir,” 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
Fitzstephen 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. w-as his wife.
"!t'« an extraordinary thing why he
should have come here of all places in
London," continued the officer. "Extraor
dinart ' But then, the whole case is ex-,
traordinary.”
His shrewd eyes rested for a moment
on the artist's face; it certainly was more
’han extraordinary that this escaped
rimina! 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
iween Mrs. Barrington's 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
'he instinct of the lower animals, he
does idiotic things.” he said.
Yes." repeated Barrington.
' There's not much more to be dong to
night. or rather, this morning, sir, 1 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
across 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
-hg thought to any danger he might run
through his committal of an act of mad
mstice. but one thought only -that Edith,
his wife, was a dishonored woman! A
1 h eat. A creature whose every action for
the tears as his wife had been a lie.
r he thought racked him with a fierce
pain He groaned at the degradation of
In his ears rang an echo of the dy
mg man s death rattle; before his eyes
danced a vision_of his terrible mocking
'mile, and the vision seemed so awful that
cnl' death could blot out the remembrance
of It x
gm up, inaction was not possible.
B' 'elt that he could never he still again
c he lived -that only one thing re
mained for him—death, after he had
2, > ' l ' eri 'K p front the lying woman up-
Death! He came .to a sudden
a-'-e at the thought' of his child, a
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s of Silence”
uthor of"Husher! Up' ’
thought so insupportable that a dew of
pain started out ttpon his brow. His
child! What future lay before it? A flood
of other thoughts so black and terrible
’hat he hardly formulated them even to
himself swept over hint. 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
he must pass the room where the thihg
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
pelled to pass through an empty room
he 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
faiptest whisper of voices, and it was
opened to him by the housekeeper, her
face wet with tears.
I don t think you should come in, sir,”
she said. "Mrs. Barrington is not well."
Barrington looked at her with wild eyes.
V as site in the plot to hoodwink him too?
T 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 man who was feared by his servants.
"The doctor said my lady was not to be
excited." she continued, with a certain
doggedness. '
"Am I likely to excite Mrs. Barrington?”
Anthony demanded, angrily. "Go down
stairs; I 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 • back against
the door which he had locked, and looked
across the room at the woman who. at
the first sound of his voice, bad sprung
up from the couch where she had flung
herself. One look at her husband's face
told her that'the end had come, that the
blow had fallen at last as she bad always
known it must; an*l 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 lie: she placed herself
in the hands of Fate and waited.
FACE TO FACE.
Still Barrington did not sneak, but
looked at her grimly. The feeling crept
in upon her that her very life 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
von should condemn me. unheard?"
“You have been so much to me in the
past.'.'"lie cried, "that it 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 hirp s’eadfaspy. “You have no
right to ask me such a question," she
raid with quiet dignity.
“No right?” The man laughed, such a
hideous travesty of mirth that it chilled
her blood.
"Oh. I deserve all the blame and scorn"
you can cast upon me,” she cried, "for I
have been a coward, but not a btPl 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 not forget that I am your
wife you 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—
w-hen 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.
"1 believed that I was a widow when
I married you,” she said.
"A widow?” Again he laughed, harsh
ly and unmusically, and there was such
brutal meaning in the repeated words
iHat 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 Barrington
imagined he found a confirmation of all
his doubt of her. Edmond's Levasseur!
That was what he 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 an
unexpected eloquence--she must have
known the fajseless of this assumed
name, have known the real identity of th»
man who called himself by it, as he
knew it.
Continued Tomorrow,
THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN AND NEWS. FRIDAY. JULY 12. 1912
i 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- About the last thing that a shoemaker would dream of doing is to really
scribes man. in Good House- look at th " foot that he is to Bh °«- •
keeping Magazine for July, as . »
“the tenderfoot of the animal king-
dom." and then he goes on to give ( x\.
what nobody seems to have thought It \
worth while to give before —some good F
scientific advice on the subject of shoes. / sF® li
What he says is amusing as we l ! as /
instructive. / / rA sap - ■pHL"' \\
Dr. Hutchinson makes another state- / r ? j (
ment which will probably surprise most I JMBEyjBgT **%
people, although It is evidently true. I 1 . 'WJs-wfilrX
viz. that m e p. and women, too. have ’he I \
biggest feet on earth in proportion to \ Us ' ?s
the size and weight of the animal they \ * X N Ji
carrv -
The fact is that man. as a product
of evolution, has not yet had time to jSjK ■jF %>■ * I
develop hi- r»<'i 1 It ,, n •. N \ / /
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I 1
Is it any wonder that our commonest dream is that of bounding in 50-foot
ourves through the 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 of 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, as civilization has proceeded,
have become more ridiculous
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.-climbingi creatures of
the ape and monkey type into the legs
and feet of the upright animal called
man, and. at the same time, he views
with disgust the manner in which man
has spoiled some of nature’s neatest ef
fects. The naked, unconflned 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,
ASM 11 , 5 .
Such fashionable monstrosities as tootheick tees ant' l «rJ3, -'s? the rr'mst committed in th« name of reform
•uch as square toes and*straight inner edges.
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 along with
It, without employing onm-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.
Os 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
the 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, and
leather is. no doubt, all things consld
eriuL 'ho very best material that ha
yet been found for footgear: but thr
trouble is that our ways of using it are
open Io a vast number of objection’
Man. in more senses than one, is the
tenderfoot of the animal kingdom.
The cobbler of genius has yet to ap
pear. ThoAias t'a’lyle forgot the shoes
when he speculated on the philosophy
of clothes.
Fashion is responsible for more
harm-doing in the matter of footgear I
than in any other of the numberless I
vaga”ies with which she delights to
worry her submissive slaves. Nowhere]
has fashion been so cruel and so de- I
fiarft of nature’s laws as in her deal
ings with the feet. Look at the name
less suffering that she has for cen
turies inflicted upon hundred' of mil
lions of women in China. But she Is.
in this respect, almost equally cruel in
what we call more civilized lands. If
all the groans and cries of pain that
are daily wrung from men. women and
children in Europe and America by the
excruciating Ills that result from the
wearing of tight or wiongly formed or
stupidly fitted shoes could be collected
and poured forth from one huge mega
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,
square-toed shoes tha© 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
stilt-walkers, are a source o' positive
injury as well as of discomfort to the
wea rets
Some Expert Advice.
Th« remedy would seem to be. when
the shop contains nothing but ready
made absurdlities, to have all shoes
made to order —hut that is costly, and. 1
besides, how many would know enough
to prescribe th® shape that a shoe
should -have?
You will find some expert advice 1
about this in Dr. Hutchinson s article,
and you would do well to pav special
heed when he says. “For heaven's sake,
have 'em big enough!"
E Stylish, But Comfortable |
• Queen Quality Shoes Embody the 21
• Acme of Style Without Destroy*
f ing Ease and Comfort. g
■ ■
■ A shoemaker threw off the smother-
v ing influence of routine and precedent
and founded a colossal factory the Jp
largest in the world devoted to the man-
• ufacture of Women’s Sh'oes. To this
• factory comes the hides and skins of Kids,' it
p Goats, Horses. Colts and Calves. Presto! JJF
J They are transformed into Queen Quality
Shoes for Women at the enormous rate Jp
of 15,000 pairs a day.
B The modern shoemaker has a double
p task—to secure grace, beauty and rhythm
p outwardly and at the same time conserve
’ physical comfort and anatomical propor-
J tion inwardly. K
• Nothing is absolutely perfect, for the Jp
millennium is yet to come, but when you
9 speak of the style, the fit and the feel of
9 shoes Queen Quality is without a peer.
p No matter how much yon may be willing
• to pay for shoes you can not buy any that
■ surpass them in those three details.
• The summer's heat calls for white—
p white shoes especially, in canvas and
buckskin, for they are so easy and cool
on the feet. We are especially prepared
9 to supply instantly the correct size in the
p wanted style, be it Pump. Colonial or Sc
p Oxford. Correct fit guaranteed.
i X I
J -
: M. Rich & Bros. Co. |
! “A Department of Famous Shoes.”
s We Close at One ©'Clock Tomorrow
: Special Fo r Saturday J
! 432 Pairs White Canvas Pumps. Welt Sole, J-
■ Leather Heels
; White Canvas Pumps
I £
- W\\
: ’ I
: $3-50
I 11
I An unusual attraction is required to sell as much
J in a half-day as would ordinarily he sold in a tvhole day.
i The shoes we are offering are .nusuallv stvlish and gp*
i
durable, and at this special price the saving is unusually
I large, so we feel sure we will not lose any sales on ac-
, count of closing a half-day.
I No mail orders filled at this price.
: M. Rich & Bros. Co. |
! “A Department of Famous Shoes”