The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1896-05-02
IT will give you 1000, $4,000, $eo.-
600" began Dcrwent. eagerly.

1T will give you $4,000, $4,000, $780,
600" began Dcrwent, eagerly.
"Sign."
Fifty thousand"
"Sign," and the pistol clicked.
Derwent bent over the paper. "One
hundred thousand--anything, every
thing"
write Henry Mason, alias Thomas
j. Derwent," said Scott.
The man wrote. staggering back
from the table with a groan.
"Now. that part of the business -
finished. Resume your seat, said Scott
II want to do some writing on my own
hook, and these are about as coy quar-
ters as can find. You are pretty well
known at home, Henry Mason. II you
did shunt that forgery of on me, and it
will add somewhat to the interest OF
my kilograms to state that they were
written in your own handsomely-ap-
pointed library. When have finished
/ shall use your telephone moment.
The boys at the station know me pretty
we'll. A special correspondent comes
to know q great many people, you
know" he said, with n short laugh,
"and shall have no difficulty in getting
n man to take charge of you. Whatever
else they know about me they know
/ am no liar. After that my game is
played"
He wrote on busily for an hour. At
last he picked up the loose sheets and
read aloud what he had written. He
had told the truth when he said he
knew how to write. The story that he
told Of his own suffering for the crime
of another would have made him fa-
nous, so full was it Of dramatic power
and graphic detail. At the first merci-
less headlines Derwent groaned aloud,
but Scott went on pitilessly. telling the
whole dark story Of the mans crime.
Meanwhile he sat with his head bowed
in his hands listening. He did not raise
his head even when Scott rang the tele-
phone bell and ordered a man up from
the station. The house of cards which
it had taken him 20 years to build lad
tumbled about his head and he sat
bowed and broken among the ruins.
The passing moments seemed hours of
agony and despair. In the midst OF it
all there was frou Of skirts in the
hall and the patter Of slippered feet
on the hardwood floor. The door
opened softly.
as it you, father, dear?" n sweet
voice asked, and Scott looked up to see
n young girl standing in the doorway,
the brass bolt still in her small white
hand. She was beautiful, sweet-faced
young thing, and her dead gold hair
was flung loosely back over her wrap
pered shoulders and a tender look of
sleep was in her blue eyes.
II am SO glad you have come, dear"
she went on. II had gone to bed and
was asleep. but heard the telephone
and fancied it must be you. am SO
glad to see you, you sweet old papa,
you" She had crossed the room and
was kneeling beside him, her white
arms about his neck.
Derwent fancied he heard click of
the pistol and looked up sharply. But
Scott threw a newspaper over his left
hand and coughed softly behind his
palm.
"Oh, beg your pardon, father" said
the girl, springing to her feet. II
thought you were alone"
There was not even q glance ut Scott
as she turned and left the room.
Derwent uttered stifled cry as the
door closed. "Lucie!"
But Scott had sprung to his feet. "At
your peril" he said, jamming the pls-
toll under Derwent's nose.
Your daughter, I suppose?" he went
on.
"Yes, sDerwent murmured.
How old is sheY'
Eighteen years"
: ''Then she knows nothing of your
dirty past?"
Nothing"
"And believes in your"
'Yes," and the man groaned.
"Then, God help her." said Scott,
fervently.
The heavy tread of the policeman
was heard mounting the stone steps.
Scott hesitated n moment; then, whip
ping the pistol into his pocket, he
snatched the closely-written sheets
from the table and tore them into
shreds.
$50 my game is ended" he said, with
a laugh, as he stuffed the torn bits into
the blazing CRATE. 'Open the door and
let the man in"
Derwent hesitated. Coward" said
Scott, between his teeth, but he opened
the door himself.
The big policeman looked from one to
the other in amazement. you, STRIP
he said, staring at Scott. They were
friends in n queer sort of way.
"Yes, Mike" Scott answered. "Gen-
tlemen like that one yonder don't like
to be troubled with wretches like me,
30 I guess you'll have to ruin me in. 4
berth in your comfortable quarters Is
not objectionable on a night like this"
what is to be the charger" osked
Mike. turning to Derwent with no very
good grace.
The man was silent He still sat
in his chair, dazed and help
less.