Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1896-05-09

81 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. Zone
hundred thousand-anyt thing, 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
| finished. Resume your seat, said Scott.
II want to do some writing ON my own
hook. and these are about as coy quar-
tiers as 1 can find. You are pretty well
known at home, Henry Mason, if you
did shunt that forgery off 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 I have finished
I shall use your telephone moment.
The boys at the station know me pretty
well. A special correspondent comes
to know a great many people, you
KNOW" he said, with short laugh,
land shall have no difficulty in getting
Il 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. st
last he picked up the loose sheets and
read aloud what he had written. He
had told the truth when he said tie
knew how to write. The story that he
told of his own suffering for the crime
of another would have made him IA
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 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 a frou of skirts in the
hall and the patter of slippered feet
on the hardwood floor. The door
opened softly.
rs it you, father, dear?" a sweet.
voice asked, and Scott looked up to see
y
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.
Il am SO glad you have come, DEAR"
she went on. Il had gone to bed and
was asleep, but I heard the telephone
and fancied it must be you. 1 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 a newspaper over his left
hand and coughed softly behind his
palm.
''Oh, L beg your pardon, father" said
the girl, springing to her feet Il
thought you were alone"
There was not even a glance at Scott
she turned and left the room.
Derwent uttered stified cry the
door closed. "Luciei"
But Scott had sprung to his feet. cat
your peril he said, jamming the pis-
toll under Derwent's nose.
your daughter, suppose ?" he went
on.
eyes, Derwent murmured.
"How old is she?"
Eighteen years"
'Then she knows nothing of your
dirty past?"
Nothing"
"And believes in you?"
eyes, 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 moment; then, whip |
ping the pistol into his pocket, he |
snatched the c1osely-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 in to |
the blazing CRATE. "Open the door and
let the man i'm
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, sir?''
he said, staring at Scott. They were |
friends in a queer sort of way.
Yes, Mike Scott answered. ''Gen- |
to be troubled with wretches like me, |
so guess you'll have to run me in. y /
berth in your comfortable quarters is
not Objectionable on a night like this
What is to be the charger" asked |
Mike, turning to Derwent with no very
good grace.