Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1899-11-02

| pers (this IL what yAu sayD write {
story about It. You make me, JOIN
Saxon Of your accursed book, mufde
my partner. and you bring me to Jus
tice, eh?'
"Yes, that's It," replied. ~ easily
as j could. II offer you my sinceres
apologies for the unpleasantness Il
must have caused you; but I assure
you. on my honor, l never dreamed
that you really existed, or ! should not
have used such plot"
"But you must have known! You
must have seenr' he cried. leaning over
the table and kissing his words into
my face.
What would have happened II the
meaning OF his words had flashed, In
stead Of dawning, slowly, upon me
cannot think-I never want to know.
But coming upon my worried brain
\ slowly, the meaning did not make me
start and my visitor, who evidently
realized he had spoken without think.
ing how he spoke, probably trusted
had missed his second sentence.
TO help him to that belief I an
swered:
How could have known the unfor-
tunate dyer had partner? l realize
kmy horrible mistake now, Of course.
ought never to have written the
book without first inquiring whether
my plot would encroach too much
upon actual facts"
He did not seem to hear me. He was
staring over my shoulder, deep In
thought, like a man who dreams his
thoughts.
BAH" he said suddenly, with great
passion. How did you learn all you
know, Ell? You could not have guess
ed what no one else had suspectedw
II fear do not understand you," I
said, with q smile.
You lie! You know you lie! Do
you think have come here to be suck
led on such prevarications? Do you
think brought this with me for any
reason but to get from you an account
Of how you discovered the purple spot
on my shirt, how you saw how it hap
pened, as you must have done, though
you don't say so in your accursed
story? Can't you see, ingenious puppy,
that / mean to know, and when I
know to send you where you cannot
run down a man by novel writing, nor
put theta upon him? It's your life
or miner
with all your threats said,
you're a big bit Of fool, Mr.. Port
man, or else your mind is unhinged.
The book was mainly written upon the
merest conception Of my own, sug-
gested to me by short paragraph. /
have already told you that. The man.
ner in which my murderer, John Sax
on, was brought to justice for his
crime was pure fiction work. Now are
you satisfied?"
Nor he replied, throwing himself
back in his chair. "What you say may
be true; / don't know. In any case,
your story has put me under the sus-
picion OF the police and the people Of
Rochdale. am marked man, don't
doubt Probably the police are hunt
ing me down nOw-nOw! But they
won't find the shirtv'
Probably you overrate the interest
the police and people of Rochdale take
in my novels and the death of your
partner" / said, with an effort at
calmness not too easy to assume.
Possibly l do"' he replied, in a
hoarse voice, with fugitive glance at
the door. But there is you to reckon
with now!'
'Me?"
Eyes, you! Do you think if l knew
was as safe from suspicion as be-
fore your book was written l could
leave you after what I've said to you
to-night?"
What do you propose to do, then?
Give yourself over to the police, eh?"
l asked ironically, for / was weary Of
the terrible nervous strain.
1T is you or me, and, by my soul,
will seal your lips!"
To my uttermost surprise he made a
sudden dash round the table Mt me,
but in the moment of his heightened
passion he forgot his revolver.
thrust out my arm and snatched it
from the table as l quickly lodged my
assailant, and, stepping back, 1 held
the barrel in his face.
''Stand back, John Saxon, or l firew
cried
He staggered back and leaned
against the wall.
Give me the key, John Saxon" 1
said sternly.
With his wild eyes fixed upon the
revolver, he took the key from his
pocket and threw it upon the table. I
took 1t up and drew toward the door.
AS If he realized that the door would
open only to allow him to pass out to
the gallows, he made a desperate, sud-
den spring Mt me as, with my left
hand, / slipped the key into the lock.
''Stand back! l cried, and pushed
the revolver into the hollow Of his
ashy cheek.
Stop he calculated hoarsely, as
with an impetuous gesture he pushed
his lank hair off his moistened brow
with both his hands. what are you
going to do, old man? A price, price,
price! A price-my life! I'll buy my
life! A price,"
He crept toward me, shaking his
trembling arms above his head. Sud-
denly he stopped, and his eyes started
from their sockets. He threw his chin
forward as If trying to swallow some
lump rising in his throat. Then, as