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■w ■■Hitt j iiiTTnarr'yr^awwrai
One Woman’s
Story
By Virginia T. Van De Water.
CHAPTER XXXn.
•m r ARY FLETCHER rilrt not regain
\/l her strength as fast as her hus-
■i* A han<1 thought she should. He
could not understand why the doctor and
nurse did not urge her to exert her-
•elf, to conquer the weakness that pos
sessed her. She wan »till In bed when
the baby mas two weeks old and Bert’s
mother came out to Mlddlssbroolt for
the day to see her first grandchild. She
would not stay overnight, she said, for
she did not care to “crowd a cottage al
ready overfull." If this was meant as
a suggestion that Mrs T>anforth should
have vacated her room during the pres
ence of the nurse In the houeehold,
Mary did not take umbrage at It. Sha
had learned to submit to her mother-in-
law's remarks, and to believe that back
of the rough and brutally frank manner
was a klndneea that could be depended
upon
Therefore the young mother foresaw
no unhappiness tn the suggestion of Mrs.
Fletcher senior that she and her daugh
ter-in-law have a private chat on the
afternoon of her •visit, an hour before
time to leave for the return train to
New York. The baby was sleeping
quietly in his cradle, and his paternal
grandmother drew a chair cloae to the
side of Mary's bed. The Invalid smiled
almost affectionately
‘ Good of You to Call.”
“It is good of your,” she said, “to
come out to see the baby and me to
day. Early spring out here Is rather
cold this year, and the walk from the
station Is a muddy one.”
"Oh, T didn’t mind that.” returned
the older woman. "I wanted to see the
baby and I wanted to say something
to you So I will get right down to that
now.”
Then, without further preface, she In
formed her startled daughter-in-law of a
matter that had been worrying her—
Bert's mother—lately. She felt that
Bert’s wife should be told that three
times when Bert had stayed In town all
night he had come to his mother's flat,
late in the evening, drunk
”1 wouldn’t, even for hln sake, tell you
this before your child was bom,” she
said. “Nor would jl tell you until now
that the love of liquor’s In his blood. At
least his father used- to love It, but 1
watched him and ruled him so that he
never got drunk after I married him
And Bert’s got to be broke of the habit.
It’s up to you, his wife, to do It.”
The younger woman’s wide eyes fixed
on the speaker’s face with a look of
entreaty that made the unimpressiona
ble and austere woman glance away.
“What can I do? Please tell me!”
she implored “I am so ignorant and
so anxious!"
The appeal to her superior wisdom
restored the older woman’s self confi
dence. and there wan no note of tender
ness or pity in the businesslike tones in
which she replied
T hat s for you to decide. A woman
ought to know how to manage a man.
I'll tell you what I mean to do. The
next time Bert comes to my place with
f lgns of liquor on him. I’m goln’ to slam
the door lb his face!”
An exclamation of dismay from the
shocked listener did net move her.
“No. Mary.” she went on, “there ain’t
any use In mincin’ natters with men
When my son don’t act like he should.
I don’t act to him as the mother of
a good son might act I served my bus
band the same way. When he behaved
himself, I was pleasant; when he didn’t
I made him pay for it. I advise you
to stir yourself and set to work at Bert.
Take my advice* and make him a fluid
to drink "
She paused, hut the wife made no
answer. She felt as if she had not the
strength to speak* Her mother-in-law
a rose
‘Well. It’s get tin 1 near train time, and
J must be goln . she observed “I
made up my mind that you should have
the iruth and my duty's done."
She moved her chair hark, the fleor
vibrating under her massive tread To
the sick wpman the room seemed to hs
floating gradually away; she heard her
mother-in-law's voice a long distance
off calling the nurse; she was so tired
holding fast that she would let herself
glide off for a moment; she was floating
off—off
First Thought of Baby. .
She came to herself with a sudden
Jolt as if the boat Jn which she was
drifting to the unknown land had come
to a stop full against a rock The jar
was sickening, and she opened her eyes
with a gasp Her face was wet and
the strong smell of cologne salts was in
her nostrils. The nurse was standing
by her on one side, bathing her face*
her mother, on the other side of the
bed. was holding a bottle of salts to
her nose Somewhere in the, room the
baby was crying She tried to speak
failed, then tried again and whispered:
“Give me my baby, please!”
Her mother brought the little one to
her. And then, for the only time dur
ing her Illness, the Invalid asserted her
self.
“I want,” she said distinctly. If weak
ly. “to be left alone with my mother
and my baby.”
The nurse although having no diplo
ma from a training school, understood
women. She suggested with decision
that the astonished mother-in-law leave
the room fortifying her commands with
the reminder I have my orders from
the doctor that Mrs. Fletcher shall be
kept quiet, and I am answerable to
him ”
Down stairs Bert Fletcher's mother
hurried away to catch her train back to
town, bidding the nurse a brusque 'good
afternoon ’
In the darkened room upstairs. Mary
too tired to think, fell asleep, her baby
close against her heart, her mother
within reach of her hand For a peace
ful hour Bert Fletcher’s wife forgot
the domination of his overpowering and
crushing personality.
AN IDEAL TRIP FOR
SEPTEMBER.
The Warm Springs Hotel
will remain open until Sep
tember 15, and those who
are acquainted with this
famous watering place will
find it ready and anxious to
serve them with the best
the country affords. This
is just the season to enjoy
the baths and the beautiful
country surroundings.
C
' r,, i n ' t
—~«y—-
Her Lack of
System
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German Copyrighted. 1018. by
FuKtaer Verleg. Berlin. Eofluh trantlnUon
rompilAtioO by
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lObprrlckte*. IMft. by IaUmeUoaai Noe* »•**<»•>
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
Wh#n ths ftrart of then* started
downtown to ths Syndicate Building,
the newsboys were crying extras In
the street: “All about the *ulride of
Sidney Wolf!”
The sound came up to Allan, where
he pared hie office and awaited the
coming of the directors. And before
his eye® wa» the picture of Wolf's
ashy and flabby face as he had last
seen It. With It there came over him
for the second time that momentary
lack of confidence In himself—when
he felt, that the monster he had
created, that had crushed out the lives
of thousands, was surely crushing out
hl» own. »
"The tunnel—the tunnel!” he said
to himself 6ver and over again, now
In despair and now In grim determi
nation. It would take many, many
years now -more probably than he
would live Would It ever survive tills
blow?
He wasted no time on self-reproach.
If he had handled Wolf differently,
this Mtroke might have been averted,
but It was too late to think of that
now. There was barely time to de
vise hasty and shaky props and pray
that they might uphold the tottering
financial structure of the great enter
prise and not bring down the finan
cial world in one common ruin.
He knew what would happen when
the Stock Exchange opened the next
morning. One thing only could head
off a terrible onslaught and that would
be a wholesome financial statement
from the Syndicate that woujd bear
the X-ray. And he did not see .how
this was possible.
Their cash had been short even be
fore Wolf's peculations. In any case
they would have had to evade many
obligations at the first of the year in
the shape of Interest on their invest
ments. It might have been possible
to flON th<- statement over, hut with
the double suicide and the loss of the
money—the cash—he did not see how
they could be saved. Nothing but a
probe-proof balance sheet of their
financial standing would enable pub*-'
lie confidence to support them, and
this was impossible.
A Stormy Session. ’
The directors’ meeting lasted all
night, but they were not the only
steeple.** ones. In all that city at
least one man In five had some finan
cial interest, direct or otherwise,
wrapped up In the great funnel And
the head of the tunnel finances and
his assistant had both killed them
selves within a week.
It was a stormy and grinding ses-
aion in the directors’ roqtn, but when
the Stock Exchange opened they had
!\ statement ready. Thousands had
hoped for a bold, reassuring an
nouncement of the company’s healthy
financial condition. The directors did
their best to give it to them, but the’
statement, as made public, fell far
short of that mark. And then came
the deluge.
The first wave that struck the mar
ket was an overwhelming Hood of the
ten-dollar certificates—"the work
ingman’s stock.” In less than an
hour they had dropped from par to*$f>.
Before noon four smaller banks sus
pended payment—and then the real
storm broke.
The big banks—the Lloyd National,
the American Gold Bank and the
House of Mantpn—closely allied and
identified with the Tunnel, met th-
first stock, but could not turn back
the rush. The panic spread, as all
panics do, and hanks only remotely
Interested in the Tunnel, Mg, substan
tial financial forts, began to crumble
to pieces. When night came New
York had passed through the worst
day In its financial history.
That black day of the panic in 1907
was a trifle.
The next morning call tnbney was
quoted at 165, and this was a bit of
grim humor. It was practically im-,
posible to borrow a thousand dollars
in cash in New York at any -figure.
This Is the situation, Allan was
told by young Morton, who had hasti
ly been thrown Into the chair left by
the suicides of Ran son and Wolff. "Bv
noon to-day there will be scarcely a
bank with open doors* In the United
States and darned few in Europe.”
The tw’o men were sitting in Allan’s
office far above the noises of the
waking day In the street below. They
had been there all night. Allan wak
drinking mineral water by the bottle
In constant .'little sips, he nodded to
ehmv that he understood.
"Witterstelner and his friends are
backing the Bank of New York City,”
went on Morton. “They are backing
it to the limit of their powers. They
may be able to keep the door** open
and meet obligations—but that’s aJi
Our own bank can’t possibly hold uf»
unless Mr. Lloyd gets behind it with
every cent of his personal fortune.
The New World National is getting
help from the Bank of London, but
every other European bank threw up
breastworks at the first gun. By fhe
times the continental bourses open
to-day there won’t be a nickel in
sight for anybody.”
"Then there isn’t anything we can
do about it?’* Allan asked quietly.
“Nothing—but pray for a miracle.”
was the grim response.
No Answer.
As nearly as he had ever done sine*
boyhood Allart prayed and prayed
hard for this miracle But the prayer
was unanswered Within three days
the full weight of the crash descended
on the ’business world and the five
continents echoed with the roar of
collapsing companies
Every new day brought its neyv roll
By the time the continental bourses open to-day there won’t be a nickel in sight for anybody.
Funeral Designs and Flowers
FOR ALL OCCASIONS.
Atlanta Floral Company
455 EAST FAIR STREET.
of commercial victims and then was
lidded an over-Increasing and’ more
sinister Uit Ranson and Wolf were
not the only victims. Every hour
brought Its report of insanity and
suicide and murder.
One New York paper ’ which had
fought the tunnel from the first, ran
a black-bordered list of the victims
every day under this line:
'What the Tunnel swallowed to
day !**
And in the list were bankers and
brokerft and merchants and manufac
turers and women and little children
hundreds upon hundreds.
But It was not this That affected th* 1
Money Kings. The financial body of
the world had' received a ripping
wound and was in danger of bleeding
to death: The* wheels-of the world's
commerce, lacking the lubricant of
ysh, were slowly* coming to a full
stop.
Factory flrds were drawn and
mines'were closed, No-manufacturer
in the world worked'hip plant on fud
time. Millions were thrown out of
employmeht.. Thousands of employ
ers were forced to • reduce wag.*8,
trike and riot, followed. Industry
was paralyzed. In Great Britain the
industrial world actually came to a
full stop for 1 the first time in history.
For.there a general strike was de-
lared. In the other big producing
countries conditions were little better.
Steamers. * with cold funnels were
wkrped to the wharves of the great
seaports in long lines. In many part*
of the world the railroads were even
without oil far fuel. The more pop
ulated pountYfcb, only those that de
pended f on water power, could oper
ate wfth anything like certainty.
What One Man Did.
And the tdll of blood grew’. West-
phaliii wa-s in open revolution, and the
machine guns were working. There
had been ’ a pitched battle between
strikers' and regular troops In the
suburbs of Liverpool. Crime statisti-
tics leaped upward in bounds and
food for millions rotted at wharves
and railway stations while hundreds
of thousands were in want.
A specter of general revolution, if
world-wide, conflict of labor and capi-’
tal, stalked the earth. But through
it all the Tunnel Company held up Its
head. It was weak and tottery, but it
was'there.
And this- was the work of one man
—Lloyd.
When it. became evident that the
company must be engulfed in the gen
eral ruin unless heroic measures couH
serve it, Allan went to Lloyd's house
and sat up all night with the aged but
still Mentally alert financier. At 10
the next morning a conference of the
leading bankers and financiers of tlu*
country, representatives of the great
European houses, and the directors cf
the Tunnel Syndicate was held in the
company’s offices. And for the first
time time in more than a decade the
great # ‘L' appeared in person.
There was u dead silence w hen he
rose to address the meeting. Spar*
and slender, in a black frock coat,
w ith his yellow-skinned, hairless, vul
ture head rising above the white linen
of collar and tie, his heavy-lidded
•eyes blinking about the room as he
slowly turned his head from side to
side, there was a suggestion of rep
tilian strength, like the languid coll
ing of a cobra, tnat awed even thesa
masters of men and money. At his
first words a thrill ran through th^
little gathering.
"The Syndicate must not fail!” he
said. The wordfc were spoken slowly
and with measured distinctness that
gave them a remarkable impressive
ness. "Tfie industrial situation in
the world to-day is bad enough with
out this final catastrophe. If we per
mit the Syndicate to fid!—if we do
not meet our obligations ^n the sec
ond day of January—no man can say
w’hat - will follow.”*
He paused for a few moments. The
hush was almost painful.
’’The situation to-day is the worst
WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE
The story opens with Rives, who is in charge of the technical work
ings of the great tunnel from America to Germany, on one of t.he tunnel
trains, with Baermann. an engineer, In charge of Main Station No. 4. They
are traveling at the rate of 118 miles an hour. Rives is in love with
Maude Allan, wife of Mackendrick Allan, whose piind first conceived the
great tunnel scheme. After going about 250 miles under the Atlantic Ocean
Hives gets out of the train. Suddenly the tunnel seems to burst. There
is a frightful explosion. Men are flung to death and Rives is badly w’ounded.
He staggers through the blinding smoke, realizjng that about 3,000 men
have probably perished. He and other survivors get to Station No. 4.
Rives finds Baermann holding at bay a wild mob of frantic men who want
to climb on a. work train, somebody shoots Baermann, and the train slides out.
The scene Is then changed to the roof of the Hotel Atlantic. The greatest
financiers of the country are gathered there at a summons from C. H.
IJoyd, “The Money King.” John Rives addresses them, and introduces Aj-
lan. Mrs. Allan and Ethel Lloyd, daughter of the'financier, are also pres
ent. Allan tells the company of his project for a tunnel 3,100 miles long.
The financiers agree to back him. Allan and Rives -want him to take charge
•of the actual work. Rives accepts. Rives goes to the Park-Club to meet Wit-
tersteiner, a financier. At Columbus Circle news of the great project is being
flashes on a screen. Thousands are watching it. Mrs. Allan becomes a lonely
and neglected woman and is much thrown in the company of Rives. Sydney
Wolf, the money power of two continents, plots against Allan and Rives. Mrs.
Allan has her suspicions aroused as to the friendsship between her husband
and Ethel Lloyd. Rives and Mrs. Allan let the wine of love get to their
heads and. before they know It, they confess their love for each other. Tun
nel City’s inhabitants learn something has gone wrong in the lower workings
of the great bore. An explosion and fire have occurred in the tunnel, and
when the workers hear of It definitely they become a raging mob. surging
about the entrance of the bore. -Mrs. Allan is warned not to leave her home
while the excitement Is at its height. But she'and her child go forth. They
meet a mob of women, frenzied by the disaster, who stone them to death.
Rives was missing in the tunnel and Allan, his wife, child, dearest friend and
5.000 other lives gone, gave way to despair. But he resolves to conquer, not be
subdued, by the great project. Gathering a relief train together he hurries
into the tunnel. Near the end he comes to a pile of dead bodies. He
finally resetfes Rives nearly dead. After the disaster the tunnel workers, in
terror, strike and the great project is stopped. Missing the strain of work,
Allan's melancholy returns and he hastens to Europe. After months of wan
dering he returns and finds Rives out of the hospital, but his memory badly*
affected. Allan’s senses swim when Rives, in a sane moment, tells him he
loved Maude, that Allan didn’t. The strike ends then Ethel brings toe dis
heartening message from her father, “Watch' Wolf.’’ financial master of the
tunnel, who is in Europe. Wolf has speculated and lost $10,000,000 of tunnel
funds. Allan asks Ransour, Wolf’s right hand man, for an accounting at once.
Ransour kills himself. Wolf Is summoned home an^ before Allan. He prom
ises restitution, but is “fired” out bodily. He decides *to flee to Canada, but
is trailed by detectives and finally commits suicide under a subway train.
Now Go On With the Story.
that the world of business has ever
faced,” he went on. "But we must
not forget that it Is our duty to see
that this black time does not grow
blacker. If we fail in this crisis the
industry of the world may be thrown
back half a century. YVe must .not
fail!”
Again he paused. No one stirred.
The slowly blinking eyes moved
around the circle and the Master
spoke again..
"Bad'as is the situation, it could
be worse The failure of the Syndi
cate is ail that could make it worse,
and the.'e is no need that the Syndi
cate fail, if we proceed with wisdom
and corn age we tan save the indus
trial world from further disaster. We
are the ( curt ot the last appeal in the
world of business. That world that
we have governed now looks to us
for help. I say again, we must not
fall!
"So much for our duty-»so much
for our aim. It now remains to de
vise ways and means. It is not my
intention to go into details. I can
leave that to the younger men who
are in immediate command. But we
must loose their hands—we must All
their ammunition hoXes. The general
strike has worn itself out. This was
inevitable. The strike could not suc
ceed because capital was as power
less as labor. Not capital," he cor
rected hiself, "but the held marshals
of capital, the leaders of business,
were crippled by an inadequate com
missary. ,
"At all cost to ourselves we must
release the cash of the world. We
must make sacrifices—big sacrifices.
In the years to come we will make
it all up again. But to-day we must
make the sacrifices that the situation
demands.
"The vital point is 'the necessity
that the Syndicate pay every cent of
interest on its loans on the second
day of January. We must stop at
nothing to attain that end.
"I have spoken of this as a duty.
It Is more than that. It is a measure
of self-preservation. To that end 1
pledge every- cent of my private for
tune, every security I hold that will
raise cash at any figure. Also I
pledge every dollar that the banks
now under my control can raise by
any means in their power.
"I wish to Impress on you why l
t? OR
JP Yo
am doing this. Leaving our concep
tions of duty aside, if the Syndicate
fails there will be no private fortunes
for us anywhere in the world. The
red ruin of revolution will engulf us
all!”
“THE SECOND OF JAN
UARY.”
OR weeks the papers of New
ork and the other big cities of
the ’ world had been printing
encouraging reports of the financial
rehabilitation of the Atlantic Tunnel
^Syndicate. New Year’s Day ‘was a
subdued holiday in New York. There
was a tense feeling throughout the
city. The hotels were crowded and
even the lodging houses of the poor
held more than their usual quota of
guests.
The Syndicate had announced that
it would without tail meet every ob
ligation on the morning of January 2.
but there were hundreds of -thousands
of panic-cowed men who would not
believe until the money was iq their
hands.
For the further strengthening of
public confidence the announcement
had been made that, wherever de?
sired, .the payment of interest in sump
up to $100 would be made in cash at
the Syndicate building. All sums be
yond that would be paid in check and
the four biggest banks in New York
printed advertisements in all the pa
pers declaring that they would cash
any and all checks of the A. T. S.
The night of January 1. was bitter
cold. The thermometer hovered
around the bulb, and there wps a fine
sifting snow, hard as sand, .that
whirled down between the tall build
ings and cut the face like hits of
glass. But. in spite of these un
friendly sighs, hundreds began gath
ering in front of the Syndicate build
ing shortly after 1 o’clock in the
morning. It was announced that pay
ment would begin sharp at 9;
All night long the crowd grew, and
when the doors were finally .swung
back thq newspaper reporters esti
mated that 30.000 m&n and women
were massed about the great build
ing. And with a roar the g^bat flood
sucked in. at one point and the build
ing began swallowing- them at the
rate of hundreds to the minute.
Jnftide the paying tellers were sta
tioned at little windows behind long
partitions. Between these partitions
the horde surged, dozens of’ special
police striving to keep some sem
blance .of order. . Long lines were
roughly formed against each little
window and the human automatons
behind the little brass rods dealt out
money as fast as their nimble fingers
would work. For more than two
hours they worked without interrup
tion, but the crowd outside was hard
ly noticeably diminished. They were
only more closely packed and covered
less street space.
Suddenly there was an Interrup
tion. You are to remember that the
stock certificates ran from $10 up and
the Syndicate was paying only in
terest; so that, an immense amount of
small money was required. Three of
the tellers were compelled to close
their windows,to go for more money.
Instantly there was congestion on
the floor. The long lines that had
been formed against these windows—
men and women, pushing and strain
ing eagerly—were suddenly stopped.
The word was passed back that the
windows were closed temporarily, as
the tellers had run short of change.
In transit the message was badly al
tered. When it reached the end of
the lines and came to the crowd out
side it was to the 4 effect that the
money was running short and they
•were closing the windows.
The mob surged and heaved down
into the doorway in an irresistible
mass. The pressure on the lines in
creased until they jvere broken and
crushed in. Those that held places
nearest the windows citing to the
railings and partitions, fearful of be
ing pushed on pa**’before they could
get their money.
There were curses and screams,
straining and pushing and fighting,
and’ then one great red-fisted man
smashed a glass partition and bel
lowed for his money.
‘‘I’ve got $300 worth of certificates
here and I want .my $300!” he roared.
“You can’t get it!” snapped a dis
tracted teller. “You know that you
.can’t get-anything but the interest.”
No one has*ever pretended to ana
lyze fhe psychology of a mob. Every
man and woman within the sound of
the teller’s voice knew, and had known
for months and years, that he was
stating a perfectly well-known fact.
But the effect was much the same as
if he declared that they could not* get
the interest.
With a howl of rage they swept
forward and the partition began to
sag and crackle. Hundreds were now
ficjhting to get out of the press. They
didn’t want their money. They want
ed their lives. Suddenly a partition
gave way and the mob, like a river
breaking through a levee, swept in
among the desks and tables of the
offices.
The clerks and tellers seized their
packages of bills and money bokes
and threw them into the vaults in the
twinkling of an eye. but quick as they
were some were caught in the rush
and money was strewn all over the
floor. This was the last touch. It
was pandemonium.
Allan in Danger.
In the midst of the uproar some
leather-lunged madman yelled for
Allan. The next instant the mob in
side ana outside the building had
taken up the cry and a torrent headed
for the stairs*. The elevator runners
had abandoned their posts' at the first
sign of trouble.
At the tenth floor they were stopped
by a solid mass of special police that
l]ad been gathered from ths upper
floors. The police gave ground slow-
ly. as the pressure in front of them
increased They argued and threat
ened. hut without avail. They had
been instructed not to use violence
excepting in self-defense or to pro
tect the lives of others.
Flnafiv the police were backed up
to the twelfth floor, and the long,
black snake of humanity wound down
beneath them until it mingled with
the press* in the street. The officers
were gathering’to charge the crowd
as a last resort when a terrible ally
came to their aid.
No one ever knew how it happened.
A dropped match or cigarette in the
debris of the wrecked ground floor
may have started it. Out of the de
serted counting room Into the hall
and up the staJrs came a long tendril
of black smoke.
The Syndicate Building was in
flames!
THE PARIAH.
A LLAN, with the directors of the
Syndicate, held a meeting two
days after the Are. Their build
ing -was destroyed and with the build
ing many valuable papers and rec
ords. The greater part of these were
preserved in the fireproof safes, but
an appalling number of these vaults
had been left open in the panic.
It was a quiet meeting. The dull
height of despair hung over thes'e
men who had toiled for years and
toiled In vain to achieve the greatest
undertaking in the history of the
world. They now' faced a record of
fifteen years of wasted effort and
millions upon millions of wasted
money.
For at last even the indomitable
Allan had given up. He looked thin
and world-weary, and his gray hair
had turned almost white.
“If I could see the slightest hope
ahead I would advl9e that we hold
on In 5»pite qf everything,” he said.
“But I begin to believe that Fate it
self Is against us. It is not so much
the actual damage that the Are did.
This is a wicked and unexpected blow,
but we might even survive that. But
the most sensible men in the country
have become superstitious about the
tunnel. They shrink away from you
at the bare mention of it. It is im
possible. now or in the immediate fu
ture, to regain public confidence, and
without that we are lost. I do not
see anything for it but voluntary
bankruptcy.”
This was the end. The next day
the insolvent Syndicate was an
nounced, and the world stood still.
That night a menacing mob gath
ered in the lobby of the Park Hotel,
w'here Allan w%s living.
Asked to Leave.
The manager, pale-faced and apol
ogetic. asked “if he would mind leav
ing, for a time at least.”
Allan smiled .understanding^. "Not
at all,” he said.
He telephoned to another hotel and
engaged apartments. The next night
the same performance was repeated.
Allan found it convenient to leave
New York. He thought of going to
Tunnel City, but young O’Malley, who
waS in temporary charge, advised
against it. He said they were sitting
on a magazine .there, and the appear
ance of Allan might precipitate an ex
plosion. ■ •
He went to Buffalo, the city where
he had first begun the manufacture
of Allanlte, the diamond steel that
had made the tunnel possible. But
here, too. he was threatened with vio
lence and his property, mortgaged to
the hilt, was marked for destruction
if he remained.
He. tried to bury himself in Chi
cago, hut he was too well known to
remain long concealed. And the same
persecution followed him there. Hold
ing himself guiltless of all crime, Al
lan found himself an outlaw. The
man. who had been decorated by sov
ereigns, honored by the greatest sci
entific societies and hailed as one of
the world’s greatest men was hunted
with curses and revilings up and
down the world.
Even the friendliest of the news
papers at last turned against him. So
did many of the old directors. Thev
saw a chance to make capital of the
persecution. If Allan could be made
the scapegoat, if the entire blame
for the failure could be heaped upon
him, there might still be a chance to
rehabilitate the company.
• But the campaign lost force gradu
ally from lack of material, and final
ly 'Allan received his first word from
the Llovds. To do them justice, this
was no fault of theirs—that they had
not found him out. He had simply
disappeared. At last a note from
Ethel came to his hand. He was 3
guest for a few days at Vanderstyfft’s
country'place at the time.
The Note.
"My dear Mr. Allan,” it ran, "papa
suggests that I auk you to go to our
farm, Turtle River, in Manitoba, and
stay there as long as you like. Father
may be able to Join you. In any case
fie would like to have you feel 'that
you are his guest for as long as ypu
care to remain. I can recommend the
trout fishing—also the horses. We will
certainlv be there within a few
months If- you care to remain that
long. You will be glad to know that
New- York has calmed down to a very
marked extent and father sees many
hopeful signs for the future.
"Cordially yours,
"ETHEL LLOYD.”
To Be Continued Monday.
Not Slow.
A reverend gentleman was address
ing a school class recently, and was
trying to enforce the doctrine that
the hearts of the little ones were sin
ful and needed regulating. Taking
out his watch and holding it up he
said:
“Now, here is my watch; suppose it
doesn’t keep good time—now- goes too
fast and now too slow. What shall I
do with it?"
"Sell it!" shouted a small young
ster.
Not the Right Angle.
A professor of art. whose absence of
mind is remarkable, recently had occa
sion to use a cab. Looking round, he
espied one coming in his direction,
drawn by a miserable specimen of horse
flesh. He hailed the cabman, and was
about to enter the vehicle when, look
ing at the horse, he stopped, dum-
founded.
“What’s this, driver?” said the teach
er of drawing sternly.
“A horse, of course, sir,” replied the
cabman.
“A horse, eh?” said the professor ab
stractedly. "Well, rub it out and do it
over again.”
HERE’S the ice pick?’’ in
quired the ordinary man,
coming upstairs from, the
basement and hunting languidly in the
tool drawer.
“Isn't It in the drawer?” His wife
came across- the room to help him hunt.
“Not there? Isn’t that strange? I was
sure it was there!”
• “Strange!” The ordinary man’s tone
was scornful. “Strange!” He shut the
drawer with a bang. “If I’ve bought
one ice pick, I’ve bought fifty! If I
want to have a thing in this house where
I can find it when I want k I’ve got
to keep it chained in my pocket with
my keys! I never heard of another
house like it!”
He put his hands Into his pockets and
strode up and down the kitchen as hs
talked. “Here’s the Ice melting and
nothing to chip it with—and hotter than
fury! I suppose you never dreamed that
we’d need Iced drinks this weather. An
ordinary woman would have seen to it
that that Ice pick was somewhere where
It would be handy! But your mind Is
wandering off somewhere.
The Complaint.
Vlt’s the same way with every tor
mented thing around this ranch!”
stormed the ordinary man. “aet win
ter could I ever find the hathet when I
wanted it? No! Hatchet after hatchet
I brought home, and yet as soon as I
needed one there was not one to be
found! You let the children play with
them or sell them for brooms, I sup
pose! But as far as putting them away
in any regular place and remembering
the spot over night—why, I’d drop dead
if you ever suggested such a marvel!
“Could I find the garden rake this
spring? No! I had to go down and buy
out the hardware store after I’d laid
in a whole new outfit last summer!”
“Why,” Interrupted his wife, “you
know yourself that you lent your gar
den outfit to Mr. Daniels and he carried
them away when he moved and '*
“Yes, and you expected me to come
from the office and hang around when
Daniels moved, to see that he didn’t
carry off my property! Hang It! Why
don’t you watch out for a few things!
Why don’t you keep your eyes open!
You seem to think I am solely responsi
ble for things about this place! I don’t
know who is responsible if it isn’t you!
You ought to see the place father had
at home. There was the tool shed and
it ”
“Yes. a big tool shed—and who took
care of it? I heard your father say that
he passed all his leisure time in that
shed. And your mother said she never
had to think of repairs—your father was
so good about remembering everything.
He kept all her knives sharpened
and ’’
“I suppose you think I ought to hang
around home sharpening knives, when
I can get a man for half a dollar to
sharpen all. we ever owned!’ It shows
how much you think of my business
ability. You can’t appreciate my work."
The Retracton.
“I never said I didn’t appreciate any
thing. But you said your father ’’
“Now. we’ll leave my father quite out
of the discussion,” exclaimed the ordi
nary man, warmly. “He had nothing
to do with the ice pick being gone.
Here it is Sunday and no ice pick! I
tell you it’s the same with the hammer
•—and with the screwdriver that I got
last Christmas. I’ve never seen
them ’’
“Oh!” exclaimed his wife. “Doft’t you
remember that you fixed up a, bench In
the attic with your new tools Christmas
week and I'll bet your things are up
there!”
“Jimmy! That’s what I did!” He
took the stairs two at a time. “Yup,
here they all are! Lucky I had the good
sense to put them away or they’d been
all lost by this time. Shows what a
good housekeeper you are not to know
they’re here!”
WOMAN IN
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