The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-04-27
Eyes. Ada, it is my last word"

Eyes. Ada, It is my last word.
.welI. YOU pig-headed I suppose
must say good-by then and go way sup
PEERLESS, and never. never now shall l see
the inside of Sherry's after all. But we
shall meet again soon, yes. very soon. Fare
well, Jack"
Before I could say another word she
picked up the bicycle, mounted, gave a 1T
tie .aucy nod of her head and wheeled rap
idly down the avenue.
I reached the corner Of Thirty-third street
and passed by the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.
The lights we're lit in every window ano
the windows in the dining-room were open.
I gazed in at all the happy parties OF fair
women and gay young fellows. and thought
sadly how l it was who was alone out In
the dark: yes, left alone out in the dark for
ever.
Forgetting the time. in my anxiety to
reach Gertrude's side. I was hurrying along
when a clock rang out the hour. It was
only half past 8. Gertrude had told me to
come at . only, and from where I stood !
could see no signs Of lights in her sisters
house. I wandered on down West Thirty
third street. AS I was passing the door of
the Waldorf I met a young giant clad in
a British uniform, the khaki uniform We
had worn in the Soudan. He wore a helmet
and puggaree Of khaki likewise. and had
Sam Brown belt, to which was attached his
revolver case n sword.
"Oh. ripping! Jack F~arquharson! Rip
ping!" exclaimed the young warrior, and
before 1 could recover, from my astonish-
ment my land was seized in a grip Of iron.
and I found myself confronted by my old
comrade in arms. Grahame Robertson, son
Of the famous old family. the Robertsons
of Struan, whom I had years before seen
shot down by my side in tho terrible con-
nict at McNeill's Zariba.
IT was looking for you. old man. he ex-
claimed cheerily with his old hearty Ruf-
faw.
Il knew I should find you here or here
abouts. and was Just going in to have q
drink with our new Anglo-Saxon allies be-
fore coming to fetch you. Now you come
down with me straight to the Fifth Avenue
Hotel, or my names not Grahame Robert.
son."
rs not. or was not. Grahame?" re-
marked, 'for I suppose you know I saw
you killed at Tofrek. What have you come
here for tonight? I cannot come with YOU
nov anyway"
KILLED be id" remarked Grahame
jocularly. DO / look like q deader? But
no matter what I've come from. I've com
to look after you. that's sure. and so that's
all about It. 1 know you're after some girl,
as usual. and I could smell those carnations
you've got for her a mile away But I say,
old man. you can spare just one for an old
pal. can't you?"
At the corner Of West Thirty-flrst street
l tried to stop him. but he still dragged me
on. ~"Grahame," / cried at last. IF ever I
was a good comrade to you in days gone
by, have mercy on me now. I must. indeed
1 must, leave you: by all that's holy I must
leave you. I have no time to explain that I
lave only one hour left me to say good-by
to"
"Oh. yes. I know. to the only girl you
ever loved. Well. sonny I came here to-
night from the other side of Byant.' as the
Irishmen say. begor. on purpose to prevent
you're having that hours conversation with
your little girl. that isn't yours low. by the
same token. but the other fellows. For X
you do have It you win not b alive this