The Saint Paul globe., 1900-05-13
The idnapping Of Weeks.

Mr.. Richard Weeks, subeditor on the
staff of the Morning Observer, was q
modest man. without ambition. and his
selection by the Fates for an astonishing
adventure showed feminine malice. 1t
also showed a gay humor, but this aspect
Of the choice was wasted upon him.
Mr. Weeks left the office of his paper
one fine April morning at $40 o'clock He
passed along Fleet street and the Strand
and turned over Waterloo bridge, as he
had done a hundred times before. He
was bound by the 3:45 train from Water
loo station to Wimbledon, where he had
pleasant house and a nice little wife.
The streets and the bridge were well
lighted and quiet, and Mr.. Weeks walked
easily along.
About midday, as the chief subeditor
of the Morning Observer was sitting down
TO his breakfast in the suburb of Dulwich.
a woman called at his house. She was
pretty and young, and in great distress.
Il am Mrs. Weeks" said she, and Rich
ard never came home last night Oh, Mr..
Western, what can have happened?"
you astonish me-" said the chief sub
editor AT what hour did he leave VIM
bledon?"
at 1890 o'clock"
81 expect Weeks has arrived home by
now. He left the Office with me; I caught
the S:15, as usual, at Ludgate Hill, but
he may have missed his train at Water
loo. In that case he would sleep at a
hotel and come down after breakfast.
You will probably find him at home"
Mr. Western fell to his coffee and eggs,
while poor Mrs. Weeks was comforted by
the chief subeditor's wife.
The chief subeditor had consoled his
visitor with fair words, but duty required
him to doubt his own theory. Journal
lists, who live in the midst of the unex-
pected, are awake to the infinite posi-
biiities Of facts. So, when he had break
tasted, Mr.. Western wrote telegram to
enc of the Morning Observers reporting
staff at the house Of commons, calling
upon him for service that night at the
head office. AS the Easter recess had
begun, Mr. Weeks place could be mex
pensiVely filled for a short time by Un-
employed gallery reporters. Then Mr..
Western returned to his guest.
IF you are rested, Mrs. Weeks" said
he, L will go with you to Waterloo and
make inquiries"
Mr.. Weeks was well known at Water
loo station, and the porters who had
been on duty in the early morning were
certain that he had not left by the 9:45
train.
You see, IT is as 7 said," observed
Western, placing Mrs. Weeks in a train
for Wimbledon. You will find him at
home, dreadfully alarmed about your alb
sence."
A visit to the nearest police station pro
nuced no new facts. No accident had oc-
CURED on Mr.. Weeks route, and the po-
ice proudly dismissed all suggestions of
violence. Those streets are the best
lighted In London, and there Is an officer
10 every hundred yards. Waterloo Road?
Aye, Waterloo Road is queer sometimes
1T night, but half past 3 is morning It
Is all full of market carts and Covert
Garden lads going to work The gentle
man win turn up when he chooses"
The telegram which awaited Mr. West
ern's return to Dulwich ran as follows:
He is not home.-Laura Weeks"
The way in which the staff Of the
Morning Observer received the news of
Weeks disappearance showed how firm
was their beautiful confidence in his NOR
a. character. Indeed, there was no room
in the mans simple life for q secret in
trigue. He passed from his home to his
office, and from his office to his home
his whole time was filled by domestic
aid official interests. Leisure Is the sur
est test of morals for one cannot con-
duct the simplest intrigue without a
large supply Of time on hand Mr.. Weeks
had two enthusiasms-horticul and
politics. In respect of the second he was
journalists curiosity. Subeditors,
especially those who have spent many
years in the gallery Of the house of COM
mons. are a cynical race, and If by favor
or eXuberance of talent they become lead
er writers their lightness of conviction
makes them the more efficient. Neither
age nor the crushing disappointment
which comes with experience could abate
the ferVid radicalism of Mr.. Weeks His
party leaders were his ideals of human
grea tness and into the personal likeness
of one Of them 1t was his weakness to
believe that he daily grew. "Ah!' Mr..
Weeks had often murmured as he looked
into his glass and traced on his own
cOuntenance the noble ministerial feat
ures of Mr.. b, "Ah, if only had gone
into the house!'
Twelve days passed. and Mr.. Weeks
disappearance had almost become ancient
history in the quickly moving life OF the
Morning Observer office. On the thir-
teenth evening he walked into the sub
editors room.
Good evening"" said Mr.. Weeks.
He was few minutes late, and all his
colleagues were present. Inquiries r0ared
around him as he sat down.
Chuck me over some copy" said MI
Weeks.
Western tossed him a bundle Of tele-
graphic ''flimsy." which represented po-
litical speech, and the adventurer bent
to his work with eagerness.
Where have you been?' roared every
one again.
Let me get the copy out of the room"
raid Mr.. Weeks. Gallery man, you are
not wanted any more. Go home"
Not then. nor at any future time, did
Weeks make his amazing adventures gen
orally known. To all inquiries he opposed
a smooth shaven, inscrutable face; the
man was magnificent, Napoleonic. He
told the editor, and 1t was whispered that
he was frequently to be seen at the home
office. He moved for a few bright days
about the lofty heights on which editors
and cabinet ministers dwell, and then he
came tumbling back in cheerful content
to his subedltoTial valley. But the secret
was kept and I should not be able to dis
close 1t now If Mr. Weeks were my only
source of information.
There is no doubt-no doubt at all.
He crosses Waterloo bridge every morn