Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1896-05-07
WAS NEVER PUBLISHED.

The rain fell relentlessly; the wind
that swept in through the Golden Gate
was piercingly cold, and the poor
wretch toiling painfully up the deep
asphalt pavement staggered as he
walked and now and then stopped to
steady himself, pressing with his
trembling hand against the buildings
that he passed. His soiled, ragged
clothes were soaking with the wet, and
his emaciated features were pale as
with the chill of death. When he had
reached the summit of Mob hill he
paused and wrapped his arm about an
electric light post at the corner, lean
ing against it for the support his feeble
frame needed so pitifully. A quick.
firm step sounded on the pavement.
For Gods sake, give me money to
buy food!" said the wretch at the post.
The quick step ceased. why dont
you say drink, and speak the TRUTH"
said the man, running his gloved hano
down into the pocket of his fur-ltned
overcoat. The glare of the electric
light shone full upon his handsome,
florid face; the poor wretch caught his
breath sharply and made a step for
ward. The money which the man
tossed into his outstretched hand
cleaned a moment in his trembling
palm, and in another ratified noisily
upon the stones far out into the street.
"I want no gold of yours" said the
wretch, with energy that shook his
whole frame. Il want no gold of yours,
Henry Mason"
The man started; his forid face
turned liyid.
"Who dares to call me Henry Mason?
MY name is Derwent. Thomas Der
went" the man said, hoarsely, staring
about him into the night
"You are out of reach of help just
now, Henry Mason" said the wretch,
with laugh 'I saw the policeman
from this beat running in an opium
soaked Chinese a few moments ago.
I believe my hour of reckoning has
come at last"
"Who are your"
You knew we'll enough 20 years
ago." the wretch answered.
Howard Scott! My God!" cried the
man.
"Oh, l thought you would recall me"
and the wretch laughed again.
what do you want?" asked the man,
unbuttoning his coat. His voice was
unsteady and his hand trembling.
Neither your money nor your life,
Henry Mason" said the wretch, bitter
ly. They will do me no good now.
Listen, You live near here. l know
your house. Why on earth I never
spotted you before is a mystery. But
I think it was more your hard, cold
voice than your looks that betrayed
you" Scott pulled a pistol from his
hip pocket. The man caught Its CLEAN
In the light and started back.
Don't move" Scott interposed, calm
". you are not worth it, and my game
is not yet played. Lead on to your
house, and dare to bulge one inch out
OF the way at your peril. Iwant quiet,
warm place to do some writing. Per-
haps you did not know that adopted u
different profession after you ruined
me and helped yourself to my money.
I'm a special correspondent when I've
life enough to be anything at all. l
haven't made much of my life, as you
see, but | can write"
"If you want money tell me how
much" Derwent said, hoarsely.
Il told you l wanted no money OF
yours" said Scott, moving a step nearer.
II shall be paid enough for my nights
Job to tide over the few weeks of life
that are left me. What l want is re-
venge and the chance to set myself right
in the eyes of the world. You have
robbed me of my life; that l cannot get
back. Youhave stolen my money, as you
did that of many others, and have saddled
| upon me disgrace that should rest on
your own shoulders. 1t was you who
forged that draft, and not l, and you
know it, though 1 served my term in
| the penitentiary for the crime. You
call yourself gentleman now, Henry
Mason, and 1 am worse than dog, but
| my hour has come. Lead on home"
The wretch had raised his voice al
| most to a scream and now waved the
pistol in the air. The man walked on.
glancing over his shoulder furtively.
81 told you I should not kill you un-
less you tried to escape" said Scott,
with a sneer. "If you speak to any
passerby, however, you are a dead man
on the word. Go on.
The rest of the way was made in
silence. Scott was close upon Derwent's
| heels when he mounted the marble steps
of his stately mansion and turned the
latch key. Within all was quiet. the
wretch had counted on this; it was well
past midnight. The gentle radiance
Of the soft lights, the warm air of the
elegant house almost overpowered him,
| but Derwent heard the click of the pis.
| tol in his trembling hand and pushed
open the library door.
80 this is your home, Henry Mason p
said Scott, staring at him.
"Not so loud, man, for Gods sakel"
| cried Derwent.
80 this is your home?" Scott pro-
ceeded, unheeding. Not much like the
| prison cell that was my home for ten
years, thanks to you, Henry Mason; not
very much like the ratholes that make
about the only home know now"
What do you want, man?" began
Derwent, his hand finding his pocket
again.
'Pen and paper!" said Scott, fiercely,
rousing himself and sinking into chair
at the writing table. ''Now, do you sit
there across the room from me. Move
or speak at your own risk"
Scott took the pistol in his left hand
and began to write, yet keeping close
eye upon Derwent all the while. BY
and by he read aloud:
"San Francisco, Cal, Jan. u. 1851.
| Henry Mason, alias Thomas J. Derwent
| do hereby certify that forged the note
| upon the Goldthwaite bank OF New York
| city % years ago, for which crime Howard
| Scott stood accused. I declare said Scott
innocent; alone am guilty"
Come, now, and sign your name
Straight goods; I know your sigma
ture, remember"