Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1896-05-03
THE STORY WAS NOT PUBLISHED.
From the PHILADELPHIA Times.

From the Philadelphia Times.
The rain fell relentlessly; the WIND
that swept in through the Golden cate
was piercingly cold, and the poor
wretch toiling painfully up the steep
asphalt pavement staggered as he walk
ed 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 emacla-
ted features were pale as with the chill
of death. When he had reached the
summit of Mob hill he paused ana
wrapped his arm about an electric hght
post at the corner, leaning against IL
for the support his feeble frame needed
so ptifully. A quick, firm step sounded
on the pavement.
For Gods sake, give me money 70
buy foodr' said the wretch at the post.
The quick step ceased. why don't
YOU say drink. and speak the TRUTH
said the man. running his gloved hand
down into the pocket of his fur-ilned
overcoat. The glare Of the electric
light shone full upon his handsome,
forid face the poor wretch caught his
breath sharply and made step for
ward. The money which the man toss
ed into his outstretched hand cleaned
a moment in his trembling palm, and
in another ratified noiSelessly upon the
stones far out into the street.
unl6 n
wretch, with energy that shook his
whole frame. Il want no gold OF
yours, Henry Mason"
The man started; his ford face turn
ed livid.
WHO dares to call me Henry Ma
son? My name is Derwent. Thomas
Derwent," the man said. hoarsely, star
ing about him into the night.
you are out of reach of help just
| now. Henry Mason said the wretch,
with a laugh Il saw the policeman
from this beat running in an opium
soaked Chinese few moments ago. l
believe my hour of reckoning has come
at last
who are you?"
You knew we'll enough twenty years
ago. the wretch answered.
Howard Scott! My Cod cried the
man.
"Oh, 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. bit
terly They will do me no good now.
Listen, You live near here. | know
your house. Why on earth never
spotted you before is mystery. But |
think it was more your hard, cold
voice than your looks that betrayed
YOU" Scott pulled pistol from his
hip pocket. The man caught its CLEAN
in the light and started back.
Don't move" Scott interposed, calm
ly. 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. | want
a quiet, warm place 20 do some writing.
Perhaps you did not know that | adop-
ted a different profession after you ru-
ined 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 HE,
as you see butt can write"
If you want money tell me how
much" Derwent said, hoarsely.
Il told you | wanted no money of
yours said Scott. moving a step nearer.
Il shall be paid enough for my night S
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 cannot get
back You have stolen my money as
YOU did that of many others, and have
saddled upon me disgrace that should
rest on your shoulders. 1t was you who
forged that draft, and not |. and You
know it. though | served my term in
the penitentiary for the crime. You call
yourself a gentleman now, Henry Ma
son, and am worse than a dog. but my
hour has come. Lead on home
The wretch had raised his voice al
most to a scream and now waived the
pistol in the air. The man walked on,
CHANGING over his shoulder furtively.
81 told you | should not kill you I'M
less you tried to escape said Scott,
with 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 ST.
lence. Scott was close upon Derwent's
heels when he mounted the marble
steps of his stately mansion and turn
ed the latch key. Within all was ST
lent. 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 over
powered him, but Derwent heard the
click of the pistol in his trembling
hand and pushed open the library door.
so this is your home. Henry Mason?'
said Scott, staring about him.
Not so loud, man, for Gods sake"
cried Derwent.
so 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:
net very much like the rat holes that
make about the only home know now"
What do want, man," began Der
went. his hand finding his pocket again.