The morning news., 1894-09-30


persons whose names and addresses l will
leave with YOU
You kin be Jest as sure of it, as that
Liah Whitaker lives"
AT bout 9 O'Clock every evening}"
Nine, . tn stroke or tn hour. Pull
out your watch, e tn minute, wherever
ye be, an know it's dOEe!'
kirtley Breem looked into the honest
old eyes an instant. when he stepped TO
MS desk with an almost youthful tread
and wrote three names aud addresses
which Editor Whitaker placed labor
lously In his wallet. Then the managing
editor hastily set his books and papers
arlght; called his assistant and gave him
a few general directions; and, with his
stlu vlgilant guard close behind him,
with many timOrous fits and starts and
attempts to return, which were promptly
checked by his companion, he at last
found himself upon the crowded street.
Don't 1t feel like out o. prison, now,
honest. Breem?"
Honestly, it feels like the sensation of
being hanged; but God bless you, Mr.
Whitaker! is in the tingle and choking
Of it all -
Tut, tut Bother, Boshl Why,
he's a-blessin' of you this very minute ="
They grasped hands and stood there
silently for moment. When Kirtley
Breem's s hand was withdrawn there were
bills of large denomination within it.
The crowd had pushed between him and
his companion but he could see his fat
hands waving him away and hear his
kindly voice roaring above the din of the
street.
jest a word, when you're anchored, T.
know where We be. if We don't mind
Forgit tn Motor. E'Orgit yourself For
git trouble. Go back twenty years-t'
where ye was raised, mebby-an' begin
agin! Good-bye!"
Whereupon Kirtley Breem set his again
darkening face hurriedly toward the
black spot between the towering city
walls, and for the last time.
That's human bein that's been muir
dered bysnches, half his lifetime - mused
Editor Whitaker, watching him closely
as he pushed through the dense early
evening throngs of Park Row. An he's
stood an took it like steel, or one o. them
air gods they tell about. [ thought l had
stuff in me. l amt in tn same hundred
year with that fellow"
He at once examined the slip of paper
which Kirtly Breem had given him, and
began muttering:
Twelve Forsyth street9' Forsyth
street. That's no fit place for tn man
agin' editor o. tn Motor t. live in That's
a tough deestrict, that is. Mebby Breem
don't live there9 Mebby-Whew2 Here,
here, here, 'Lijah Whitaker, that won t
do!'
He held the addresses out at arms
length under shop window, scanning
them eagerly and spelling them out care
fully.
Mrs. Betsy Hopper, Housekeeper,
Fourth Flat, IL Forsyth Street, Cityn'
Editor Whitaker mopped his forehead,
pumped on his spectacles and reflected a
moment obviously.
That looks bad mighty bad. But it's
only number one" he added hopefully.
Mistress Rachel Breem, Widow,
Fourth Flat, IL Forsyth Street Umph !
That's better Paul Breem-what's this ?
Gam Gam. Gam?-Gam Gam? ?
Showed his pen through that three times.
Bothered, an some slip probly. Same
number, though; II Forsyth street"
Editor Whitaker replaced the paper in
his wallet, carefully put his spectacles in
their case, shut his lips closely together,
nodded his head several times jerkily,
buttoned his coat across his chest as
though setting out in stormy weather,
boarded an uptown car and, few min
utes later, found himself plunging
through the writing masses, the loathe-
some scum of all nations, that swarm like
human maggots in the fostering city
trench known as Forsyth street.
He had scarcely found its Number 70,
before he caught glimpse of Kirtley
Breem behind him. 1t was impossible for
him to retreat and he plunged into the
shadowy entrance, cropping to the right
and left as he scrambled up the creaking
stairs, for some mOmentary retreat from
observation.
This impulse spurred him into quickly
clam boring up, up, up. The footsteps OF
| Kirtley Breem were close behind. More
by hit than wit, as he afterward related
his arm suddenly lunged forward into
| darkened space He pushed after it, and
| found himself in an open closet, safe from
| detection, at the very moment that Kirt
| ley Breem, opening another door beside
! his own, stepped with the assured tread
| of familiarity into q dimIy lighted room
| beyond
| Editor Whittaker's breath and equani
nifty We're soon regained. He saw that
| one side OF the closet where he stood was
| titeed with half-dOor, waist high, and
! this was open. The miserable vista thus
| presented comprised three tiny rooms
! One was kitchen and bedroom
| another was bedroom and o dining
room; while the third was bedroom anC
! something which stood for living-roon
and parIor. In the first was Betsy Hop
| per, housekeeper, grum blingly preparing
| Scant repast. In the second stood lit
tie table spread with a scrimped clott
| anu Il uduuiul 0I QlSneS, ana hlctle1
! Breem beside it, white and hesitant;
storm-whipped human slab of marble
among the ruins and graves of hopes anc
loves and home.
In the third room was a white-haireC
! old woman, propped in rickety invaliC
| chair, bedeCked as with the remnants oil
ancient tinery. A look of fierce famine
wholly removed from physical hunger
was in her skinny face and flaming eyes
| while her chattering lips uttered little
| gibbering shrieks Of surprise or complaint
| or gleelulness at the varying fortunes
| of cards, shuGied, dealt or playeC
above her lap from her own half palsieC
hands, or from the tiuttering, talon-lik,
| fingers of a man whose face reflected un
! mistakably lineameuts of RELATIONSHIP
with all ner piJiJul cunning and woltsl
! greed.
! Then followed a little scene which
! opened to Editor Whittaker's astouude(
! eyes such pages Of the life-bOok in grea
| towns as that hardened, softened, world
| wise man had never even dreamed before
! kirtly Breem stepped into the kitcher
/ and placed some money in Betsy Hopper!
| hand
81 shall 60 away for little time, in th'
/ morning" he said quietly But it viii
all come, every night at nine-don't lei
/ them doubt it for a moment, Betsy Just
as II has come every night, for years" "
! Then he turned and walked steadily L
! the two at cards.
l.