Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1896-08-28

hundred thousand - anything, every
thing
write Henry Mason, alias Thomas j.
Derwent," said Scott.
The man wrote, staggering back from
the table with groan.
"Now that part of the business is fin
ished. Resume your seat" said Scott. II
want to do some writing on my own hook,
and these are about as cozy quarters as l
can find. You are pretty well known at
home, Henry Mason, If you did shunt that
forgery off on me, and it will add some
what to the interest of my kilograms to
state that they were written in your own
handsomely appointed library When |
have finished shall use your telephone
moment. The boys at the station know
me pretty well. A special correspondent
comes to know great many people, you
know" he said with a short laugh, "and
shall have no difficulty in getting man
to take charge of you. Whatever else they
know about me they know l 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 famous, so full was it of
dramatic power and graphic detail. At the
first merciless headlines Dorwent 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 telephone
bell and ordered man up from the sta
ton. The house of cards which 1t had
taken him 20 years to build had tumbled
about his head, and he sat bowed and
broken among the ruins. The passing
moments seemed hours of agony and de-
spair. In the midst of it all there was a
frou of skirts in tho hall and the patter of
| slippered feet on the hard wood floor. The
| door opened softly.
SIS it you, father, dear?" sweet voice
asked, and Scott looked up to see 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 wrappered shoulders, and a
tender look of sleep was in her blue eyes.
81 am SO glad you have come, dear, " she
went on. ~ had gone to bed and was
asleep, but heard the telephone and fam
cied it must be you. I 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 a click of the
pistol and looked up sharply. But Scott
threw newspaper over his left hand and
| hnb Nd Il
Oh, beg your pardon, father!" said
the girl, springing to her feet. II thought
you were alone"
There was not even glance at Scott as
she turned and left the room.
Derwent uttered stifed cry as the door
closed. "Lucie!"
But Scott had sprung to his feet. CAT
your PERIL" he said, jamming the pistol
under Derwent's nose.
"Your daughter, suppose9" he went
| on.
eyes," Derwent murmured.
"How old is she?"
Eighteen years"
"Then she knows nothing of your dirty
pasta"
Nothing"
"And believes in your"
eyes" And the man groaned.
"Then God help her" said Scott fer
vently.
The heavy tread Of the policeman was
heard mounting the stone steps. Scott
hesitated moment, then whipping the
| pistol into his pocket, he snatched the
| closely written sheets from the table and
| tore them into shreds.
I se aaI ho cai1 n
laugh, as he stuffed the torn bits into the
blazing CRATE. "Open the door and let the
man in"
Derwent hesitated "Cowardl" 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 queer sort Of way.
eyes, Mike" Scott answered. "Gentle-
men like that one yonder don't like to be
troubled with wretches like me, so guess
you'll have to run inc in. A berth in your
comfortable quarters is not Objectionable
Oh night like this"
"What is to be the charged" asked Nike
turning to Derwent with no very good
grace.
The man was silent. He still sat COVER
ing in his chair, dazed and helpless.
"Oh, the gentleman will no doubt be
on hand to prefer charges in the morning, I"
interposed Scott with laugh. "Let's 60,
Mike
"What horrid wretch that was i" said
Lucie, coming from the back Of tho hall
and putting her arm through her father S
when the door closed. "What did he want
of you, dearS'
Money, of course, child" answered her
father hoarsely.
"Well, Pm glad you telephoned for a
| policeman to take him away If he was
troubling you"
A man was reported dead at police sta
| ton No. 10 the next morning Thomas
Derwent went into the little whitewashed,
smoke stained room and stood moment
looking into the pinched face of the dead
man whose lips were closed forever. Then
buttoning up his fur lined overooat he
went out again, breathing freely.
H. Egan in Philadelphia Times.
The Simplest Method.
The fashionable fad for artistic express
I.a- f-4k tod til,