The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1899-12-26
A Lost Record

| mary Wethereu had become accust0m-
ed to the idea of spinsterhood and had
settled herself TO an appreciative enjoy
ment of that condition, conscious of a
mind and purse well stored, when Philip
| Westinghouse came TO Aurora. and, meet
| ing her, was infatuated with the idea
| Of making her mistress of his home. For
| twenty years his home had been without
| presiding spirit for Mr.. Westinghouse
| used 1t as a convenience, much as he
! would club. He had not been able to
| domesticate himself after the restless
| world wanderings which followed the
| death of the wife of his youth. And to
| his sorrow at this bereavement was ad-
| ded distress Of another and yet more
| harassing nature He had given his in
| FAINT son into the care of his sister, who
| lived in Nebraska. This sister had I'M
| expectedly removed to California, and af-
| ter corresponding with Mr.. Westinghouse
! from that point for year or two she
| disappeared altogether. No trace Of her
J could be found. After a long and anxious
| investigation Mr.. Westinghouse decided
that his sisters husband must have be-
| come involved in some financial trouble
| and left the country. The uncertainty Of
| the fate of his child was a cdrking bur
| den and made of him a fearfully restless
man.
| Not until he met Mary Wetheren and
| saw the peace that brooded in her soft
! eyes. and felt the restfulness of her low
| voice did he discover any comfort. But
when he had married her and taken her
to his home he felt that he had cast the
| old weight of pain from him. The man
/ ner in which she managed to convert
| the dismal rooms of the old house into
| sunny and artistic apartments seemed
| little less than micacle to him; and the
| sound of her pleasant voice as she sang
| about her tasks appeared to transform
| the whole atmosphere of the place. For
| years it had been associated in his mind
| only with loneliness, grief. and frustra-
ton. Now it was filled with sweetness
and with light
Three months Of almost perfect happi-
! ness passed, when, one day, young man
| sent up his name to Philip Westinghouse
| With trembling fingers he handed the
| card to his wife. She read:
'EIr. John William Westinghouse
| "My son." explained the gentleman.
! well, this is good news, indeed, Philip
| "It should be so, but for some reason
/ that 1 cannot explain I dread this meet
| ing more than I ever dreaded anything
| in my life. Actually, Mary, it seems as
| If the idea filed me with fear. I con-
TESS to you that I am afraid to go down
! those stairs"
| 81 do not understand, dear. You are
| afraid he will think you have not been
| sufficiently persistent in your search for
| him?''
mo, no! 1t Is no scrup1e Of conscience
| that troubles me. I feel personal, child
| ish, nervous fear. L feel as if something
evil were awaiting me-"
| Mrs. Westinghouse arose with a pref
| ty rustfing of her gray garments.
Come" she said, smilingly, give me
nd will
go down together to meet your son."
But in spite of her calm words she,
| too, was conscious of an indefinable ap-
prehension.
As the two entered the wide door of
the drawing-room they made a stately
picture for the delectation of the young
| man who arose to meet them. Philip
Westinghouse had snowy hair, though he
was in his prime, and he was of impress
sive port, with flashing black eyes, and
a naughty but kindly face. His wife,
his junior by many years, was q woman
of such grace and quiet loneliness and
such peculiar repose Of manner that no
one who met her could fail to be i'm
pressed by her exquisite personality
The young man who came forward at
their entrance was as tall as the man he
called by the name of father. But there
was no further point of resemblance. His
eyes were a pale blue, and there was a
vicious scar over one of them. His skin
was tanned till it was the hue of a Ben
galese. His mouth was irregular, and
went up on one side and down on the
other; and on the hand which he held
out to Philip Westinghouse there was a
thumb and three fingers only. The index
finger was missing.
The elderly gentleman took the ex-
tended hand in a tentative grasp.
Are you going to introduce me to
your son, Philip" Mrs. Westinghouse
asked gently. Her husband drew himself
up to his full height, and his penetrating
eyes seemed to pierce the very soul of
his guest.
Mary" he replied, sternly. 81 am not
at all sure that this young man IS my
son. Do you bring me any evidence,
sir?"
Plenty of them, sir. shall produce
them for you with pleasure. Is this lady
your second wife,"
The manner was intended to be ingra-
tiating, but there was covert insolence
in it and an absence of breeding in the
very intonation which was an offense
''NTry,' said Philip Westinghouse. slow
~, you may leave us alone. I viii hear
what this young man has to say"
Reluctantly Mrs. Westinghouse left the
room, and an hour later her husband join
ed her in her sitting-room. His face was
gray and haggard and he staggered
little as he walked. His wife arose in
alarm.
"Phinp" she cried. inquiringly
cit is true. Mary. He is my son. He
is acquainted with facts which convince
me"
you are sure, Philip"
81 am only too sure, Mary"
"And-and you are-are disappointed in
him. my dear?'
Mr. Westinghouse made no artlculate
answer. He sat down quietly, smiled at
mis- wife. and tainted.
During the next few weeks Mrs. West
inghouse had an opportunity for appre-
cIating the repulsion which this young
man inspired in his father. Even when
he endeavored to be amiable he could
rot restrain a habitual sheer. lnexpeYi-
enCe might have excused his bad man
Ders but it could not account for his IN
restrained curiosity and his pertira cious
presence-for he appeared 10 be determin-
ed that no privacy should be enjoyed by
the family upon which he had thrust him
self
one morning Mrs. Westinghouse. de-
scendiug from her room. noticed upon
the wall above the stairs the impcriut o.
a bloody hand. The sight was sufficient
" startling in itself but what added 70
her horror as she looked al It was The
fact that It was the imprint Of a hand
which had lost its index finger.
With frightful fore 5odiags sic rushed
to her husbands room and found him I
VITA head hanging from his sleeping /
couch, murdered. His throat had been cut. (
The day. with its fearful detail. drag +
eed ont its length. The Coroner came /
and the Old family lawyer came, and ma !
II others.