Newspaper Page Text
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Even You Old Scrooges Must Admit There Is Nothing in This
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World as Empty as an Empty Stocking
V
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AT D/
\ \/ A Thrilling Story of
A 1 o/
I Society Blackmailers
Youth and Age
CoinTifht. InternatHn*! New* Ker»lc«.
in’ XKLI. BKIXKLKY
(Novelized by>
i.lav by George Hear-
V»«li: k presented at the
/From the
• M K'l • now .
Thirty-ninth Street Theater, New York.
Serial right* held and copyrighted by
International News Service.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
“Honest, air.” said Tommy in grow
ing fear of this big. firm man.
"Who’s been here to-night?" thun
dered the Interlocutor.
For the briefest second the boy hes
itated. and Holbrook caught his eye.
“A man,” said Tommy.
“What's his name?”
Again the boy hesitated
“I don’t know," he said at last In a
breathless tone.
The Chief looked for a flickering mo
ment from the soldier to the boy.
“Did he come before or after I was
here?” asked Holbrook In the matter-
of-fact tone of a seeker after knowledge
Tf*e Chief betrayed surprise. HOL
BROOK HAD BEEN HERE—WHY. he
wondered. Aloud he said -
“You were here to-night, Captain?"
"Oh. yes. Chief, but the boy said
Flag* wasn’t at home.” Then address
ing Tommy, he continued in a per
fectly pleasant tone: “Ar^ I’ll bet you
lied to pie when you said it—didn’t
you?"
“He—he didn’t want to see you
again," murmured poor Tommy.
The Chief looked thoughtfully at Hol
brook. I^ter they would both remem
ber Tommy’s admission.
The Captain continued his question
ing: “But who was the other man who
came after I did?”
"I don’t know, sir."
”Ah, yes you do! Out with It! His
name!" thundered the Chief.
“.lores," whimpered Tommy.
"What did he want?" Tommy hesi-
taTed. "Got any handcuffs, Donnell?"
“Sure, Chief."
"Please don’t!" cried Tommy in hor
ror. "He sold my uncle a letter! It’s
In the. drawer, there!”
On the Rack.
Chief Dempster opened the letter and
smiled with an Ironical twist of his
grim lips. Now that It was too late for
the court of law now that Jutson Flagg
was claimed by the higher law—the
proof of hiH despicable blackmailing lay
In his hunter’s hand.
"Who killed your uncle?" he shot at
Tommy with disarming suddenness.
"1 don’t know. sir. He called me—I
was In bed and "
"What time?"
"About eleven, I think—I opened the
door and answered "
"Ami then?” went on the Inquisitor.
“I hurried down—-and uncle was
dead." The boy sobbed out some of
his forlorn aloneness. "Then I opened
the window and called ’police.’ "
Donnell grinned: "You could have
heard him across the Potomac.’’
The third degree continued.
"How long after you heard your uncle ,
'.ailing did you get here?”
"About half a minute."
"And you're sure there was nobody
here at all?"
"No, sir,” asserted the frightened boy
W'ith certainty. He wondered dully if
they would try to fasten the crime on
him—why, he had loved his Uncle Jud—
and he was alone now—surely they
could not in’end taking him off to the
prison.
"Only one answer, Chief," broke in
Holbrook, with calm assurance. The
more bitterly certain he became of the
*rue answer, the more desperately he
wondered if he could make the trail
lead away from the girl who must not
be hunted, hounded by the death of
the blackmailer as she had been by his
life.
"This rose! Where did this come
from?" went on the inexorable ques
tioner.
Breathless stillness for a moment.
I-arry wondered if his heart was likely
to ruffle the tucks on his frilled shirt.
“1 don’t know, sir. My uncle didn’t
have any roses.” As if in sooth a
spider would have a pretty taste in pink
roses!
"He might have bought out a florist
after you went upstairs,” declared
Larry
A Danger Line.
did not flinch Now now' was the mo
ment when he must decide—and decide
quickly, what to IX).
The Telephone Call.
But Tommy shook his head vaguely.
The chief tried another tack.
"When did she call?”
"While the man was here, about hall
past 10.”
"Was she to come here?"
"i think so.”
Chief Dempster allowed himself the
relaxation of a full smile.
"Now will you be good, Captain?"
He ermsed to the telephone while Hol
brook turned the battery of his ques
lion marks on Tommy. But mercifully
enough, the lad had no more to tell;*
and "central" seemed a bit uncertain
about tracing the call that had been
received on Flagg’s phone at 10:30.
But now there entered a new sleuth
hound to' ferret out the scent of the
trail. Inspector McIntyre camo to Join
forces with Chief Dempster.
And at the chief’s answer to McIn
tyre’s, “Well, what have we here?” Hol
brook winced anew. For the word that
followed was so hopelesAly ugly and
the trail he had tried to confuse lay so
hopelessly plain. Would the Govern
ment’s hunting dogs give tongue soon
would the pitiless pack of the law fol
low the scent? For this is what Demp
ster said:
"Murder—and a tough proposition,
too.’’
To add to the danger—there was a
plain clothes man detailed to give the
whole house his a&reful inspection.
And now Tommy’s examination was
resumed. Even the reflection that
Tommy probably liked It no better than
he did was of small cheer to Allne’s J
self-appointed protector.
“Tommy, is this a flashlight for that
camera?”
“Yes, sir."
“Where do those wires run?”
“The desk."
"Oh—did he take pictures?"
Tommy nodded.
“Himself?"
Tommy nodded again
"What for?"
"T—I don’t know, sir.”
“Take any to-night?”
"I—I—think so.”
“Out with it, kid," thundered the
chief.
“The man’s picture” . . . stumbled |
off Tommy’s gray and twitching lips. i
“Tell us about it quick, or you’ll *
get a free ride," said the Inspector, tak- ;
lng a hand In the game.
“The camera stayed up there—on the
to]> of the bookcase with a plate in 11
and the flashlight ready-—my uncle al
ways took anybody’s picture when they
first came to see him.”
“Did he get mine?” asked Holbrook j
with a flash of the wit that no dlffl- j
culties could ever quite restrain.
"No. sir.”
“Go on,” .said the Inspector, who did
not consider this the time for jesting.
“My uncle Just pushed the button
ar.d the camera opened and the flash
exploded. When my uncle called me,
I heard the flash—and I heard my un
cle say: ‘I get your picture for the
police!"
And at the awful possibilities of the
single sentence, Holbrook’s staunch
heart went dizzy and faint. m
Whose picture would that all-reveal
ing camera contain? Whose picture had
Flagg, devilishly resourceful and re
vengeful even In death, taken for the
police? Who would be given over by
that picture to the police?
The Chief was blazing his trail now J
Or, as Holbrook pictured it, the blood
ed dog was nosing out the scent—and
he would follow It to the death.
"That’s the stuff -there was your
powder-smoke, Captain. ’Get your pic
ture for the police’—don’t sound like
suicide, does it. I>arry, me boy?" He
laughed In triumph.
"No—It sounds like a pipe dream to
me.’’ sai<l Larry the dauntless
“Take charge of that cumera, Don-
nell.” ordered the Inspector. “And don’t
let It out of your hands a second.’*
“Yes sir,” said I>onnell, taking the
camera carefully In his left hand and
keeping the right arm ready for at
tack or defense. For ubsolute safety
be rested the camera on h high chair
back and held it full In the range of
his unwavering eyes.
Holbrook wondered idly how many
men an ex-soldier could handle. AncU
The chief chose to ignore him. That * then he decided that the diplomat s
worried our Irishman a bit. Never a j waiting game must be his.
hit did he mind being disputed, refuted | "What’s n that room asked the In-
oven—but to be ignored, that showed
that the chief was doing his own think
ing along a line of his own—a' danger
line.
“You didn’t hear the outside door be
fore or after you came in here?"
“No, sir.”
“You opened the window right away?" 1
“Yes. sir.”
"And you stayed at the window until
you saw the police coming?"
"Yes. sir."
“And you didn’t, Donnell?”
"No. sor "
The chief spoke with quiet certainty
that fell on Holbrook’s heart with dead,
ly force. “BEFORE THE BOY GOT
THE WINDOW OPEN SHE MADE
THE CORNER.”
“SHE Chief?” inquired the captain,
with elaborate unconcern - and the while
he wondered that nobody heard his
heart doing a reel that would be fittest
for a wake.
"IT WAS A WOMAN! YOU
THOUGHT SO YOURSELF WHEN
YOU FIRST CAME IX!"
“I thought so? Oh, Chief, you’re
jesting I thought
"You caught perfume In the air!”
Holbrook countered easily. "Perfume
isn’t confined to women.” He sniffed
• t That.
"I think a woman called my uncle on
the phone,” ventured Tommy
“Ah, the arrant young cub, now,”
thought Captain Larry. "If 1 couldn’t
discipline him for that volunteer serv
ice!”
“Who was she?” snapped the chief
I quickly.
Holbrook’s knuckles whitened—but he
spector in a curt tone. Then, still more
curtly, lie pushed Tommy before him
into the darker inner den of the dead
spider. The plain clothes men and Chief
Dempster followed on the tour of in
spection. leaving the room to the grim,
sprawling, dead form—the guardian of
the camera, and the hopeful fighter for
a lost cause.
Larry Holbrook came and stood by
the side of this other Irishman. On
his face was a cordial smile that was
just matched by the unctuous one on
Donnell’s countenance. I^arry’s fingers
were twitching to he at that camera.
Donnell’s fingers were firm on it.
“Didn’t ye have a brother named Mike
Donnell in the Fifth Cavalry?" begun
Captain Holbrook, in a pleasantly con
versational tone.
’ No, Captain.’’ replied the guardian of
the place, smiling.
Holbrook took a judicial survey of
the other man.
"Indeed? Well, ye favor each other
very much ” The bit of a brogue w as
very much in evidence for its brotherly
effect.
Quite casually now he began to ex
amine the camera “Old fashioned sort
of a contrivance that—eh, Donnell?”
“Looks like a good one, though,” re
turned Donnell with due Importance.
”’Tis—German lens ” And now, hav-
ing seen just enough for his purpose,
Captain Holbrook changed the subject
with disarming purposelessness.
"This Donnell I knew in the army
used to be on th»* New York police
lone,” the figures twitched toward the
camera again. But Donnell's eyes were
twin watch dogs.
To 3e Continued To-morrow,
THE FAMILY CUPBOARD
A Dramatic Story of High Society Life in New York
(Novelized by)
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is
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(From Owen Davis' play now being pre-
sented at the Playhouse, New Y ork, by
WlHiam A. Brady.—Copyright, 1913. by
International News Service.)
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TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT
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“She’s Just the same with, me—quits
me cold, like this—then bimeby, she'll
come back and (five me all she's got.
Kenneth looked up, his attention sud
denly arrested, his mind focussing on
".lames.’ 1
“Why should she give you anything?"
"I'M HER FATHER.” answered Jim
very quietly and simply.
Kenneth looked at him for a mo
ment-in sheer horror. So. this maudlin
old driver of cabs—this servant with
his vapid old face was—Kitty’s fathpr!
He laughed bitterly. He had sacrifleed
so much—for so little. Tie had Judged
his values with such youthful eoeksure-
ness. He had turned his back on the
old life he knew—he had driven away
at last even a fine old friend like Pot-
ter—and all for the faithless daughter
of old Jim, Garrity.
But Jim was inured to insult. He had
no personal pride to take arms for of
fense or defense. lie went on with a
sort of meek resignation that, if either
of them had known it, was own hum
brother to Ken's attitude of hopeless
helplessness.
"Sure! I'm her father. She's
ashamed to have the gentlemen know
It, so she takes me as a servant when
she’s keepin' house with one of 'em."
Who He Really Was.
“One of them? Good God! One of
them! Has there been more than one?’’
Ken sprang up—he stood facing the
old cab driver.
“Began when she was about six
teen.”
“I know!” said Ken full bitterly.
"Workin’ in a store on ”
“Yes!” exclaimed the tortured boy.
“He weren’t a bad sort. He’d a
married her, I think—only he died.”
Kenneth had turned his back on the
narrator of Kitty’s story, and was gaz
ing out of the window - -out where there
was sunshine and clean air a man might
breathe without polluting and choking
his lungs to the point of anguished suf
focation.
Now he whirled about, and came
| quickly—almost menacingly toward Jim.
• NO! NO! HE DIDN’T DIE!”
cried with his bitter certainty.
“Sure he did! Su-re!" said Jim pa
tiently. “I was to his funeral. Fine
big feller—name of Sam Livingstone.
Big, Sam Livingstone "
Completely overcome — with wav*
after wave of horror sweeping over
him—with the cruel vision of his blow
In defense of this girl—with the awful
phantasmagoria of his misspent days
and nights—for this—woman—with bit-
terness cloudlnq his eyes and wrenching
at the foundations of his mind, Ken
sank—spent, weary, baffled and beaten
into the only refuge he could hope for
now—the relaxation of his deep old
chair! THE TRUTH AT LAST. And
truth was a two-edged sword to smit*
himi
His Only Thought.
“Then there was ” went on Jim,
with the shameless relish of the scan
dalmonger who finds an audience to
whom his tale of horror is new.
“Don’t! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Don't:
It’s too funny! It's too funny! Ha, ha.
ha! Don’t tell me any morel" There
was no mirth n Ken's laughter. But
to him it seemed that he was a suc
cessful raconteur—and with delight in
the success of his story telling he wfcnt
on. Hew could he tell a mind was
breaking before him?
“She’s drifted around, sort of, for jha
last ten years. She’s a bit older than
she lets on, but she never says ary
thing—she’s smart, but she’s always on
tlie move. I think a lot of Kitty. I}ut
—she ain’t—always very good to me!*
The maudlin old weakling knew no
shame for what his daughter was. js'o
horror of how she came by the means
for being "good” to him—he only frit
terror and resentment at being desefi-
ed, left In the lurch now. Perhapp
perhaps that she had such a father wa?
To Be Continued To-morrow.
•tr'
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11
e'-'IA
100 STORES WHERE YOUR CREDIT IS GOOD
Y OUTH Is thankful that it has VOUT11; thankful for the faery
things that go with it; for the dreams that are; for the things
that are to be; for the daring that swells its heart and takes
Oid Time by the beard; for the stir and the strife of life; for red blood
and love; for the colors and flowers and gems that go with this decorat
ing-time of life; for the mighty joy of TO-DAY and most of all for the
high, delicate hopes of what IS TO COME! Age is thankful that its
feet and body are warm—that a soft chair closes it round; thankful for
the things that it has known; for the dreams that came true and that
it can forget those that never did; thankful for the wisdom that keeps
its heart from hurting and loving too deeply; for the peace that it has
found; for the youth that sometimes surrounds it; for a line old book
and the crackling hearth—and, most of all, for the end of strife for
the warm, even heart-beat that finds pleasure in meditation and feels
no more the to'rmenting, bitter-sweet flame that distracts the heart of
youth. Youth and old age; wild birds and dozing pussies—each thank
ful for so widely different things!
Sai!i
Mil!
A Widow in
Distress
The Manicure Lady .«£
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
“I
Dear Miss Fairfax: v
I am a young widow, 28 years
of ago*, and for the past three
years a man has been trying to
induce me ot marry him. 1 re
fused him repeatedly, telling him
that I did not intend to marry
anyone. He induced me to prom
ise that if I ever married I would
marry him. Some time ago 1 met
a man whom I love very much,
und married him. Since then the
other ban has become a wreck ami
says lie can not live without me.
1 love mv husband very much,
and he loves me, but 1 can not
he happy knowing that the other
man is unhappy on account of
me. He says that if I would let
him see me sometimes It would
make it easier for him. Please
advise me if it would be right if I
should let him see me.
some -
easier
S O if you should see him
times it would make it
for him—would it?
Well, how about making it easier
for you?
And then the man you’ve married—
what about him?
You've promised to love and honor
him. Do you think you would be
honoring him if you saw this other
man just because the other man wants
you to do so?
When you married your husband
you gave up every sentimental obli
gation you ever owed or might, could,
would or should owe to any other
man on earth—as long as that hus
band is alive and you live with him
This man who is anxious to have
you think about him when he knows
you are married and ought to forget
him isn’t worth anybody’s thought —
for a single minute.
If he was. he would try to help you
—not try to harm you. He knows
perfectly well that he is asking you to
do something you have no right to
do at all—something which w Ill get
you into trouble just so sure as you
even consider it for a minute.
Who is he that he dares presume
so far?
When you married your husband
you were through once and for all
with this man—don’t see him again
at all—if you can help It.
Don’t risk a good home and a good
husband for the sake of a vain fool
who wants to make you appear as
silly as he is.
F that wart ever comes in here
again and gets into my chair
he 'will think he is getting
, shaved at Fish’s Eddy by the oldest
1 Inhabitant.” «ai<l the Head Barber,
! glaring after a retreating figure.
! “This U the fourth time he has been
In here and I have caught him every
! time. He wants more waiting on
than Caruso, and he ain’t kicked in
with the sign of a tip one of the four
| timed. Wait till I catch him In this
chair again!"
“You should he more patient and
gentle, George,” said the Manicure
! Lady, soothingly. "As we journey
through life we ran into a lot of
queer nuts, and you must treat then?
kind of forbearing, the way you
would treat a lost child. That’s the
way I go along, and I find that it
makes me more happy than putting
the bee to folks that is a thorn in my
side."
"I ain’t never noticed. that you have
any patience to sell,” declared the
Hoad Barber. ”1 have heard you
recent enough telling some guy where
to get off.”
“Never unless I have plenty of vo
cation, George,” said the Manicure
Lady. "It takes a awful lot to get
mo. When I ain’t got perfect control
of my temper of course there is
tory one day and he saw a old fel
low there that used to work beside
him when they was boys together.
That was when father was poor and
the factory was small He asked the
old fellow if he was still working at
the same job, and the old fellow said
he was. ‘Well,’ says father, ’you
have worked long enough. Go home
and rest from how on, and you will
get your check just the same every
week.’
"That’s the kind of a sport my
father is. George, but that ain’t the
end of the story. For about six
months he didn’t see no more of the
old fellow, and kept sending his check
regular, but at the end of the six
months the old fellow actually had
the nerve to come to him and say
that he thought he ought to have a
raise! Father thought he was Joking
at first, but the old fellow explained
that on account of the high cost of
living he had to have a raise. Now
IJ he had kept on slaving In the fac
tory he wouldn't have ever asked fop in <Time that y
" No ." ‘
Up-to-Date
Jokes
"Speaking of hens," said an, Ameri
can traveler, "reminds me of an old
hen my dad had on a farm in Da
kota. She would hatch out anything
from a tennis ball to a lemon. Why,
one day she sat on a piece of ice and
hatched .put two quarts of hot water. ’
“That doesn’t come up to a club
footed hen my old mother once had,”
said one of his hearers. “They had
been feeding her by mistake on saw
dust instead 'of oatmeal. Well, she i
Well,
laid twelve eggs and sat on them,
and when they were hatched eleven
of the chickens had wooden legs and
the twelfth was a woodpecker."
71 1-2 WHITEHALL ST.
(Upstairs.)
Men’s and Women’s
Clothing Just In For
The Holiday Trade
a raise. Can you beat that?
’I suppose your father gave him x
raise." said the Head Barber.
“He did not," said the Manicure
Lady. "Father tied a can to him and
ain’t never saw him since. You
wouldn’t think any man would o«
hoggish enough t 0 ask for a raise
when he was pensioned, would you?"
*T d think anything." said the Head
Barber, gloomily. "Maybe he is ;he
times when 1 burn up a little, but as , father of that guy 1 just shaved."
a relo i try to be k n and gentle t( 1 K * "■ —
nil which comes Into my daily life. 1 j Going Cheap.
A clever lawyer succeeded in win
ning his client’s case and getting the
better of a rather bumptious barris
ter. The latter couldn’t conceal his
chagrin and, meeting his victorious
opponent in the smoke-room of the
hotel at which they were staying, he
remarked, in a loud and spiteful tone:
“Sir. is there any case too dirty for
you. or any criminal so much dyed
ou won’t defend?"
the other, in a quiet
| tone. "What have you been doing
now ?”
The purchasing power of 1CD busy
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or woman can purchase stylish de
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veniently—your credit is good here—
use it to buy sensible Christmas
Gifts that will be appreciated.
OUR PRICES, STYLES AND EASY
TERMS CAN NOT BE BEAT.
Special Showing of
Women’s Coals, Suits,
Millinery and Furs
Ladies, you’ll find distinctive styles
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that compels admiration. Come and
see the new arrivals—you'll find
many a holiday gift suggestion here.
Ill
\
< I
believe I will live longer that way,
and as Robert Moore the Scotch
poet, once wrote: 'As we journey
through life, let us live quite a
while.' '*
“I don’t expect tip*) from every
one. said the Head Barber, "but
when a man wants n lot of extra
service he ought to dig down and pay
for It That’s what gets my goa*
a man wanting the whole barber
shop ar.d th-*n sneaking out without
paying me nothing extra 'or my
trouble."
"There is folks in this world *hat
the more they get the more they ex
pect," observed the Manicure Larly.
“The old gent was telling mother and
me last night about a fellow that
worked for him It seems that the
old gent was goln. through hu, fac-
Some time ago a man wa» awak-
-
weeping uncontrollably.
“My darling!" he exclaimed, "what
is the matter?"
• A dream!” she gasped. "I have had
such a horrible dream."
Her husband begged her to tel! it
A witty judge declared recently
that “a patriot was a man who re-II
fused to button his wife’s blouse. A J |
martyr,” he went on. "Is one who at
tempts and fails, while a hero tries
and succeeds."
“Then, what is a coward?" asked a|
curious bystander.
"Oh, a coward," replied the judge, i I
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“is a man who remains single so that I
he won’t have to try."
IFOR MEN
"I am thinking of touring in South
■ Africa next season,” remarked the co
median.
"Take my advice and don’t," replied
j the villain. "An ostrich egg weighs
I from two to three pounds."
AND BOYS
to him in order that he might com
fort her After long persuasion she
was Induced to say this:
"I thought 1 was walking down the
street, and I came to a warehouse
where there was a larg*! placard
'Husbands for sale.’ You could get
beautiful ones for fifteen hundred dol
lars or even for twelve hundred, and
very nice looking ones for as low as
a hundred.’’
The husband asked innocently;
me”"
The sobs became strangling.
"Dozens of them." gasped the wi'«,
"done up ’t. bunches like asparagus,
aud sold for, ten cents a bunch "
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Men's Suits $8.50 to $23
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Men’s Shoes $2.75 to $4.50
Men’s Hats $1 to $3
4%
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the reason why Kitty was—Kitty!
“She never struck you—did she? SM
never struck you?"
Jim was quite shocked at the thought.
“No! She wouldn’t do that!"
Kenneth laughed again- hysterically.
“Well, T got to go look for a jolj I
guess, till she drifts back again,” sitkl
Jim with resign' d patience. “Jobs i.<*
hard to get nowadays—all I know) is
drivin’ a cab—an’ these here danjf' 1
taxis " He had almost a philosophic
tone of resignation and meekness.
Ken interrupted. ‘‘Here!’’ He stoeff' 1 -
ami picked up the'money he had g{ i
ten for this man’s daughter—the Bll?
he had dropped to the floor in the erf'
(ion of learning that she was Jify's
daughter He picked up the roll wu
bills and held It out.
Jim took It wondering—and slowiy
counted it.