haps he had found the thief. Perhaps even, he had the money. She was lost in reverie. The most prominent picture in her day dreams was of herself in fetching sport clothes, reclining in a comfortable chair on the deck of a smart yacht. The name of the yacht was "The Violet." The proud young owner was immaculate in flannels. He bent tenderly over her as he murmured in her ear, "Are you quite happy, dearest?" The yacht's owner bore a startling resemblance to the sick young man up stairs. Sighing happily, Violet looked for the first time closely at the envelope which might make her dreams come true. Her air castles went crashed as she noted that the writing was not her brother's. When she finished reading the letter she sank in a dejected little heap and cried until the pretty white collar was moist and wrinkled with her falling tears. The sound of her sobbing reached the ears of Jack Moreland. He reached for a little bell she had placed on the table at his bedside. He rang it vigorously. The sobbing ceased, and soon a little red-eyed girl appeared in the doorway, trying to smile and appear as though nothing in the world had happened. Now that he had called her, Jack did not know what to say. "Please come here, Miss-Miss Stratton." She advanced to the bedside inquiringly. "I don't want to seem-that is I mean I wouldn't or rather-" stammered Jack in a clumsy effort to be kind. · Violet needed only a little sympathy to plunge her back into her recent despairing depths. Her lip trembled and she gulped. Jack had noticed the last few days that the young lady who nursed him so willingly was indeed very, very good to look upon. He had seen many good-looking women, and was not particularly susceptible, but Violet was-well, Violet was just herself-which was more than could be said of many others he had met. She raised her hand to straighten out the little stand at his bedside, in order to cover her confusion somewhat. The hand trembled. It was a pretty hand a little bit rough from much hard work, but small and pink. Before he realized just what he was doing, he had reached out and covered it with his own. This finished Violet. The tears came and she dropped to a little footstool and cried as though her heart would certainly break. Jack patted her hand. He wanted to say something, but couldn't. Not only would the words not come, but if they had he would not have dared to speak. There was a big reason. She must not know, and surely would not understand. "There, there, now." Jack tried to make his voice sound paternal, and succeeded. Violet rose and bounced out of the room. On the top stair she wiped away her tears. Then she cried some more and stamped her foot. It was most aggravating to a maid to have the man whom she fancied most become almost loverlike, and when she was about to capitulate, have him turn fatherly. But Violet had a real grief and a real trouble. and needed sane advice. Stifling her pride, she determined to go to her boarder for the counsel she could ask of no other. The following day, as she brought a lunch to the sick man, the way was made easier by his question. "Miss Stratton, something has upset you. Is there anything I can do for you?" It might be remarked here that Jack Moreland was not so ill as he pretended, but attention was spoiling him. He hated to grow well enough to lose his nurse. "Yes, you can. an." Violet was her old brisk self, but plainly troubled. She began by telling him of her father's death. Carefully she related the story of the robbery and of her brother's departure for the city. "I know he went to the city to look for the thief, and as I have not heard from him, I am afraid something dreadful has happened to him. When this come, I was sure it was from him. .” Violet was on the verge of tears, but restrained them as she passed the note to Morland. It was typewritten and unsigned. It read, briefly: "Have information of interest to you. I can tell you who the thief is who took your money, but I'm not working for glory. If you want to know more, you can come alone to this address. Be sure you are alone, or you won't gain anything. Don't wait to find your brother or you'll wait a long time. Yours for fifty-fifty, 122 State St." "What do you suppose they mean by saying I will wait a long time to find Will? You don't think they have killed him, do you?" Violet was trembling. Moreland pondered. "No," he replied finally. "If they did that, you would never hear from them. I don't understand it. However, I must go to the city at once to attend to an urgent matter of my own." Jack frowned. "We'll go together and look into this somehow." A taxi drew up at the door of 122 State Street. A very young and very pretty girl stepped out, and ran up the steps. She pressed the button and when a footstep sounded in the hall, turned and spoke in a clear voice to the driver. “You may go now. Please return in half an hour." The driver nodded, and started the car. The door of the house opened about half an inch. The driver abruptly stopped the car. The young lady turned rather impatiently, and spoke in a higher, clearer voice. "You may go now. half an hour." Please call for me in The house door opened part way and a negress motioned for her to step inside. She was almost inside, and the negress would have closed the door, but for the voice of the taxi driver. "I beg pardon, Miss, but you forgot your gloves." He was running up the steps holding a very small pair of gloves in his hand. "Oh!" exclaimed the girl in an annoyed tone. The negress hesitated for the smallest part of a minute, but long enough for the driver to get his stalwart form through the doorway. The amazing chauffeur now whipped a mean looking firearm from his pocket and placed his finger to his lips. (He can be the "dog" because he is going to "worry the cat. ." in a minute.) The negress turned a slate color, but held her peace and led the way to the rear of the narrow hall. The young lady did not appear at all disturbed, but turned and smiled knowingly at the taxi driver. Arrived at the door at the end of the corridor, the negress stopped and looked inquiringly at the chauffeur. He motioned for her to open the door. Following closely on her heels the two intruders entered the room. It was a small disorderly room, and although the bright sun shone outside, the shades were drawn and the lights turned on. A woman stood at the far end of the room with her back to the visitors, silently regarding them in a mir ror. girl in a harsh voice. "I thought I told you to come alone." Violet turned to the chauffeur. He raised his hand to his cap and pushed it far back on his head, looking directly at the woman Had he struck her, the woman would not have recoiled more suddenly. She put her hand over her face. A portiere at the left fluttered slightly. Alert as a cat, Jack stepped quickly toward it and jerked the heavy hanging aside, revealing in the short rear hallway exposed to view, the slinking figure of a man-as sodden, as repulsive as the cowering woman. "Will, Oh Will, my brother!" The young girl would have rushed to him, past the astonished Moreland, but she was arrested by the angry voice of the woman. "Sneak!" The woman's face was white with fury. For the moment she ignored her visitors and fastened her wrathful gaze. on Violet's brother, "What brought you here? Since you decided to spend the rest of that money on someone else, I suppose you thought you'd—.” She checked herself, suddenly remembering the others. Then with a defiant toss of the head she faced them. "Well, I guess you've got the drop on me," she remarked vulgarly. "Your darling little brother," she sneered at Violet, "took the family strong box right under your nose in the dead of night. Half of it's gone, anyway, I guess, and he's taken a fancy to some other dame. But I was going to put you wise to his game, and" she continued very coolly, "split with you." (Here, of course, we have completed the unpleasant duty of presenting the "cat that caught the rat that ate the cheese-” and have revealed the identity of the rat.) Violet covered her face with her hands, as if to shut out at the same time the sight of the odious woman and the wreck of her brother, whose attitude left no question as to his guilt. The woman apparently enjoyed Violet's agitation. Maliciously she looked from Violet to She turned and scrutinized the girl. The Moreland, and then laughed unpleasantly. chaffeur had concealed his weapon. The woman was tall and rather well-formed, but the face that she turned them told all too plainly her story. It was a face that might have been beautiful once, but dissipation had made it almost hideous in its settled coarseness. "Send your driver away," she commanded the "What," she asked, mockingly, “are you doing here with my husband?" She indicated Moreland with a nod. Violet's hands dropped from her face, and she gazed in unfeigned stupefaction at Moreland. Her eyes were two great purple interrogation points. Moreland's face turned a deep, painful red, he dreaded the exposure of a divorce court, but he said nothing. But Brother Will was taking in the situation of Violet and Jack on his own account, and whether to spite the woman, or whether some remote fragment of conscience roused him to his realization of what he owed his sister, he played his ace. "Don't let her fool you, Vi," he said slowly, as he looked savagely at the woman. "Your friend there thinks he is married to her, but she had a couple of husbands before she ever saw him." The chagrin on the woman's hate-distorted countenance confirmed his accusation. Thereupon she and Brother Will engaged in an altercation and such fierce and fiery nature that Moreland, turning swiftly, picked Violet up bodily and ran to the waiting taxi. Later that day he told her all. It had happened not so long ago, but he was younger, much poorer, and had married the girl on an impulse, to save her from an unpleasant fate. Discovering immediately that she was a fraud and a thief, he had left her. Success and riches had come to him. About a year previous to this the woman had heard about it, and had made demands for money or for his protection. She had fallen so low that still believing that she was legally his wife. So for one miserable year he had been the recipient of her letters, demanding, threatening, ruining for him all the joy he might have found in his well-earned prosperity. It had also planted the weed of bitterness in his heart-bitterness toward all womankind. Then all he had ever longed for materialized itself in Violet, and made him more miserable in the realization that it was impossible for him to speak of that love while this woman existed. "But now from what your brother says, I am a free man. I should have suspected that before, and I can easily enough have the woman's career traced, and confirm your brother's statement, and then when I do-why-." Violet was a simple young thing. She just couldn't pretend that she was not almost suffocated with joy, and as for asking him to wait for his answer, or that she couldn't make her decision then-and all that stuff-it was impossible! She fairly bounced into his arms. Then the "man kissed the maiden all forlorn who had milked the cow Hortense with the perfectly straight horn, who didn't hook the dog that worried the cat that caught the rat that stole the iron box that lay in the house that Jack built." By Burt Franklin Jenness O, vast and incomparable land; With your leagues of shining billows which, though still As the purple peaks you stretch away to meet, So blends your tuft of sage and drifts of sand, The transient twilight is your wonder hour, Like stalking spectres, in the darkness loom. Where, years before the Long-Horn cropped the range, The bison and the redskin used to roam The lobo and coyote made their home, sands, And time may change your types of beast and bird; But if your rainbow hues must fade away, And all your desert splendor disappear When through your barren wastes are fertile lands, And you are bathed in humid atmosphere; |
