Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1900-12-06

| ness TO hear what / hau 10 tell re-
vealed itself plainly In his eyes, al
though had my back been towards
him I should have noticed nothing In
his voice other han the listless tone
of the invalid. I was about to put him
through a trying ordeal, and the fact
that he had so much self-control urged
me TO go on. He wanted somebody to
lean upon and although my shoulders
were, at the best, but very young ones.
still IL I could take part OF his anxiety
upon them, and could make him un-
derstand that my inexperienced wits
might be sharpened TO the working out
of my purpose by what he could tell
me. and by his advice, ] felt that 1
should be doing what no medicine
could do-that / should, in fact, be
ministering TO a mind diseased. And
so I told the tale. not exactly as W
told to me. but with such few additions
as would make it easier to let Mr..
Travers know, when he had heard II
! all. that 1 could answer part of the
riddle. and that I looked to him to un-
ravel the rest. / was careful, too, to
mention no names, and although he
seemed excited by the narrative, he
was not unduly so.
I had been leaning over the foot of
the bed while I spoke. When the story
was finished 1 sat down and took his
hand in mine.
"I have told you this tale of malice
prepense," I said, land before l say
why I have done so, / want you to un-
| derstand, Mr.. Travers, that for me, of
all men on the earth, my father and
YOU stand far above the rest. For
your sakes I would gladly run any and
every risk"
I could feel his poor, weak hand
tremble in mine as I spoke of danger,
and then he gripped me as hard as his
strength would allow.
Don't speak, Mr.. Travers. my kind
friend: don't agitate yourself. A
chance circumstance-the finding OF an
old paper-put me in possession of part
of your secret. / know that there are
demons about who are hunting for you
and my father, and l know that when
they take a life they leave traces of
their handiwork behind, by which
those they have threatened may know
they are still on the trail. My fathers
real name is Robert Tremayne H. Nor
ton, and yours is Rupert Starleign, and
1 only tell o this that you may be
lieve me when I say that your safety
is my one and only consideration"
I made him take a little stimulant
to help him to recover from the shock
1 had given him.
~ know the cause of you present at
tack. 1t was because you happened to
see the account of the case in Man
chester, and you recognized the sign
of the cards. Don speak yet. Wait
until I have finished, and If you can
bring yourself to tell me the particu-
lars of what happened at Cambridge,
Of what it was that has brought all
this trouble upon us. I shall be the
better able to help you. My father
would not tell me why he was leaving
me, but hat was because ] was utter
ly ignorant then Of everything con-
nected with the matter. Now / know
so ruch that 1 am convinced he would
let me hear all. God knows, no father
could have been kinder to me than you
have been. Don't speak If it distresses
you, hut If you think you can tell me
what / ought to know, press my hand"
He looked at me so lovingly, and so
tenderly, withal, that, as 1 felt the
gentle pressure 1 had asked for, 1
stopped over and kissed him.
God bless and keep you," I said.
"And now, my dear friend, try and
sleep. and try to think, too, that a sor-
row told is a sorrow shared, and to-
morrow you will be stronger and better
able to help me-"
All! that tomorrow! How wise and
beneficent a provision 1t is that we
know not what 1t may bring forth!
Had anything ben wanting to con-
vince me of the terrible position In
which we all-and by I'VE alP' I mean
my father n Mr.. Travers, young
Travers and myself-were placed, the
events Of this night would have sup
piled 1t. / sat beside the patient until
/ saw that he was becoming calmer.
then / gently withdrew my hand, and
changing my Goa and boots for a
dressing gown and soft wooden Slip
pers, / turned the gas down and made
myself as comfortable as possible on a
low couch that stood in the shadow on
the side of the bed remote from the
door. From time to time / peeped at
the patients white face, scarcely dis
tinguishabie In the dim light from the
pillow on which his head lay, n I
was pleased to find that presently his
eyes were closed, and bending over
him, 1 could tell from his quiet breath
ing and his restful look that he was
sleeping; and 1 was comforted by the
thought that he might have found
peace from the knowledge that one
who was involved in the great peril
overshadowing him was watching be-
side him.
1t was past l o'clock. and the silence
OF the early hours of the morning had
settled upon the house. I was wide
awake. The bed upon which Mr.. Tray
ers lay was an old~-fashioned, half-test-
err, standing very high. / had drawn
the curtains forward on my side. so
that / could see his face by looking
round the hinder edge.
The gas jet was fixed in the side
wall. n a string, one end of which
lay close to Mr.. Travers' hand. hao
been attached to the clip in such a way
that he could, by pulling the cord, turn
the gas on full If he wished to do so
The night YVES very warm, and since.
In the o~ld-fashioned house ventilation
had been entirely forgotten. had left