Rock Island daily Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1886-1893, 1888-03-10

every walk ana drive, waiting TO Strike TILL
the blow should fall most deadly. He had
chosen his time we'll. Poor Bertha, with her
dreams of Como and Chamouni. But what
would he doi Leap upon his enemy and kill
himi The man in the doorway looked too
pale and i'll for such violence; would he then
heap cures upon him, the bitterest human
lips ever utteredl But Curran advanced into
the room with Outstretched hand.
Don't you know me, then, friendp
Philip hesitated again. There might be a
grain of hope yet; he would surely never
have given the young man his hand If he
had known-or called him friend.
'Some one wrote me TO come l don't
know what he wanted Curran explained
YEARLY, They expect SO much of a man;
they want him to be a God; and if he were
they would cruelty him.
Philip was recovering his composure. At
first he had felt wild impulse to confess
everything TO the wronged husband. He
seemed so grand so magnaninlous; he would
not be cruel, But then his reason came back
TO him, In such case as this there could be
no amends. lnnoceptly, Bertha and Philip
had done him IA teri InIe wrong-and them
selves; forgiveness could not blot it out. God
in his mercy might spare them the penalty
of infamy; but the injured husband had no
choice but vindiCate his honor, when he
came to know.
"You look i'll, ~ said Philip at last, drawing
him out n chair Should he detain him
Bertha might come before her time and break
in upon them, the two men both of whom
she had in iured SO terribly OH that must
not happen Was not that step in the pas
sage now Should he let Curran go, then
The first man he mot would pour the story of
his shame into his cars, and then the catas-
trophe. He must not go-but he must not
stay. Philip looked out into the passage. No
one was there. CuIran had dropped into the
chair Philip had offered him.
do look i'll T. he asked, pushing his long
hair back from his forehead. Did you ever
love "a woman who hated you Did you ever
want topour ont your life FOR her, and see that
she despised you You know whom l mean.
Why once tancied you and she were lovers,
till she told me not mean Bertha" lie
spoke the name SO tenderly, thrill of shame
passed over Philip. Bertha was this mans
wife. Had he not right then to speak her
name tenderly And so Curran had fancied
Bertha and ho We're lovers till she told HIM
not-ah, Bertha
"She has left me-" Curran went on in the
same soft tender tone. 81 don't suppose 1t
interests you But if could only see her
now, ] have such a strange feeling that l
might win her back. She made such u ten
der sweetheart Then he lifted his eyes
more firmly TO Philips face, set like "A wall of
rock. as there any trouble among your
help" -r,-..
''Ees, they have flung all my offers in my
teeth"
at must have been that which made them
send for me- | had hoped, or feared, hardly
know which, it might be something of Ber-
tina. 1t is queer, isn't it, woman like her
should turn my head so Completelyf What
is there about her, did you ever think of ita
OF course you haven't" Curran seemed to
make an effort to dismiss all thoughts of her
that unnamed him. You needn't be afraid
of me; ! thought you seemed little strange
when | came ill.,"
Philip started involuntarily, but Curran
continued: ~ sha'n't encourage any strikes
against you God will bless your life for
your work for the poor. II he hasn't yet, he
will give you a happier love than he has
given me-" Then he rose with new energy to
his feet. 81 must go and stop the mischief.
| can do more with your laborerS for good or
evil than any man in the world. suppose
they may be in the hall tonight"
YES But Philip hurried up to him and
laid his hand on his arm. But don't go, not
yet"
II must. Shall you be here long2 WE'LL
will see You again tonight"
God grant not" murmured Philip Breton,
as the door closed after him. Then Philip
unlocked the great safe and swung back its
green door of iron. He took out packet
and locked the safe again, and carried his
packet back to his office He turned the gas
still higher and held the packet in the flame
till all that was left of it was little heap OF
charred paper on the ioor-all that was left
of Philip Breton's will With that act he
closed up, as he believed, all that part Of his
life worthy to be remembered. He was
young and strong, but he had failed. Hence
forth he must look while Others worked.
Fate had taken his work away from him. He
must sit back on the seats with the women
and children, and look on and applaud when
great deeds were doing. He would have
liked to work, too; but perhaps others would
do his work better.
Halo, halo, Phil, don't you work pretty
late" 1t was Giddings, the lawyer in con-
dition of decided INVESTIGATION. I'm bet yer
dollar you don't know what | came for! ha,
ha, la; you think money; don't you; more
money! But amt that sort of Teller"
Philip had been simply disguised at first,
but there seemed a terrible leer in the drunken
eyes. Could it he the man had come TO ex-
pose himf What was the use of struggling
against his destiny any longer: II he could
have gone yesterday, he would have saved
all risks. But he had waited just too long.
Curran had returned to claim his wife. Jane
Ellingsworth had discovered everything.
And now this Gddings in his drunkard's
foolishness was threatening what ruin he
could bring.
You are not going to do anything rash
are you" said Philip, dropping his eyes in
But Giddngs came close to him and laid
his hand on his shoulder. Then he put his
face close to Philips, with drunken mans
false measure of distance. The young man
writhed at his touch, and held his breath to
avoid taking the hot fumes of bad liquor the
fellow exhaled. But he did not dare TO anger
the low creature.
lllu you lllIlh, tpnllHuttl WIN
gushing Representatives,, THAT | amt got
any conscencet You're dom wrong, Mr..
Breton. | sRint got no right-no right to
let it go ON. Did you think | amt got no
Philip shook him off and his face grew so
terrible that the fellow WINGED as he had
done before at that look.
Don't strike-don't kill me, Phil-Mr.
Breton, / was only jokn'-can't you tell
when a mans iotin' Got any money bout
nj It has IN I'M nu-fn mr. |
hurt you; your altogether too nice Teller"
He leered aifectionatey at the young man,
then suddenly he winked frightfully.
Philip threw him roll of bills 1t was
the last blood money the scoundrel would
ever draw. By tomorrow morning Philip
Breton and his wife would be beyond tho
reach of harm, or beyond the reach of help,
one or the other. "There is 500; take it and
go, | have business"
Ten, twenty, and twenty makes thirty,
ten and twenty and twenty here amt but
$50 Thought Is too drunk to coun' did
youm
There is 500 theren
"'S lie. Yer takin' vantage me cause I'm
drunk
This creature must be away If it cost 81 900.
He crowded another $50 bill into the fellows
clammy hand.
Now go, or you'll stay longer than you
want tor
Giddings dried his tears and gathered his
limp joints together to go. But he insisted |
on Philips shaking hands.
But even after Giddngs had got into the |
hall Philip heard the fellow muttering to
himself. He stepped hurriedly to the door of |
his office to catch the word, but could not. |
If Philip had been little quicker he would |
have heard this |
'Somethin up, amt so drung but ca |
see that. Guess 'sl Cup to the boys house |
His wife II know me, he, he"
Would Bertha never come! If they escaped |
now it must be but by hairs breadth. Ruin |
would be close upon them. For the adjust |
mcnt of ribbon she would sacrifice every |
thing. 1t seemed great while since Curran |
had left the office for the labor meeting, and |
he had not so far to go. Something might |