Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1891-11-19

SnalI give up JnlS WORK altogether. j
have not been very lucky lately, old
man, though I have not worried you
about my affairs. !"
They never worry me-" I began, 81
only wish you
II know-I know" he interrupted
kindly; "you think your back is
broad enough to carry my troubles
as well as yours, but you shall never
have mine to bother you, Tom, while
you have any of your own. This is
the only thing you have heard OF, -
and then he went on to tell me the de-
tails of the case that Miles had re-
ferred to.
II came across the track this after
noon" he said, land now it's only a
question of time"
He drew deep breath Of relief and
threw his shoulders back. II did
make mess of that last thing, and
that makes me more keen about this.
You see, there's another man." Iknew
he meant Smollett, who would give a
good bit to get hold OF this job before
me, but there's not much fear of my
losing it now"
He smiled as he spoke and looked
more hopeful than he had done for a
long time.
We said nothing more and drove off.
It was wet, cold night, and was
glad when the cab stopped and we left
it at the corner of shabby looking
side street.
"Third door on the right" said
George, partly to himself, "past the
coal yard, over the butchers. You
wait here for two minutes, Tom; if I
am not down then you follow me.
Back room on the top of staircase. I
may want you. Don't stand in the
wet. Here's q doorway to shelter in"
At the end of two minutes was
climbing quietly up the narrow, dark
staircase. No sound OF voices any
where.
"Bird's flown. Bad luck to him." I
thought. lawfully hard on George,
poor fellow
l was at the top, when suddenly
there came hesound. so seldom heard,
of a mans voice broken by sobs,
striving to speak quick and coherent
ly.
"Ah! found it's no go, confessing his
SINS" smiled to myself, and pushed
the door ajar.
All! how could I have kno vn
Georges voice, always so quiet, so
self-controlled? How could I recog-
nize George himself, kneeling on the
floor, by the side OF IL poor, miserable
bed, holding in his arms the figure Of
a man? A head was resting on his
shoulder; his hands were smoothing
back the dark hair from a. thin,
white face on which his own tears
were fast falling.
"Come, my boy, no time to lose.
You know me! Bob, dear, quick; say
YOU know me-your father, Bob; it's
only your father. You must get out
of this. No one knows but me, Bob,
no one will know, no one will follow
you-quick, quick" And with a sob
in his throat, he turned round and
saw me.
He had forgotten my existence, but
now seemed to think that I knew
everything.
No explanation that this was his
lost son, whom he had tracked to
earth, and whose discovery was to
bring him SO much credit. No thought
of the object for which he had come.
The detective was not there; in his
place stood a broken-hearted father,
with but one thought in his mind
how best to get his unhappy son out
of the reach of the law which had so
nearly caught him.
"Come," he cried, in a hoarse whis-
per to me, "help him to stand, he is
weak; we must arrange for him."
I had looked round the place. The
soualid poverty of the uncleaned
room, the we'll worn pack OF cards
lying on the chair by the bed, the
empty bottle on the other side, and
the stale smell OF spirits and tobacco
IN the room, and all told the same
tale, and bore silent but unmistak-
able witness to the complete mastery
OF evil habits.
But of all this George seemed to see
nothing.
The Sharp, searching scrunity OF the
detective had. given place to the loving
look OF a father, to whom all forgive
ness was possible. :.
With hasty hands he had taken off
his hat, greatcoat and scarf, and was
now hurriedly putting them on the
figure, who offered no help, and who
seemed too dazed and bewildered to
speak.
whispered in husky voice; cit is all
I have now, but you shall have more;
and here take care OF this" hurriedly
writing a few words on a scrap OF pa
per. "See put it in the breast