Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1901-04-08
A CULPRIT CORNERED.

! publishers in the city.
| The weeks that followed were tortur-
Gus ones to Herbert French. At times
he regretted having taken the step he
! mad done, and wished he had never
seen THE Maze of Life" He would
laugh at his fears, and picture himself
| the author of the day. A month Slipped
| by and polite note reached him from
the publishers to the erect that their
reader had reported favorably on his
work and they would be happy to ne
gotiate for its publication.
Three months later the literary
world was in state of excitement. On
every hand people We're talking of the
new book which had been launched
upon the sea of literature with such
| signal success. The critics had, with
few exceptions, spoken of "The Maze
of Life" by Halifax Flanders. as a
work of genius. Edition after edition
had been issued, and still the book
sellers clamored constantly for more.
| The book was discussed by all classes,
| by the mechanic as well as by the
| professional man. learned men and
| women. and one and all joined in vol
luminous praise of the man who had
written it.
| But who was Halifax Flanders? No
one seemed to know. Paragraphs We're
appearing in the papers daily setting
| forth in one quarter that the author
| was lady of the best society, and in
another that Halifax Flanders" was
the nom de plume of man of letters
already famous under his own name.
The publishers would give no informa-
| ton beyond stating that the author
desired his identity to remain un.
known.
And what of French? He had in-
| tended to change the title, but some
fatal influence compelled him to retain
the original name. Halifax Fland-
ers' he regarded as a cleverly CON
ceived nom de plume-a name thar
would attract by reason of its uncom-
mon sound.
But if he had been unsettled before
the book appeared, his agony was ten
fold worse now. AS the sale of the
| book increased by leaps and bounds.
his fears OF exposure rose accordingly
Don't under any consideration ti-
| vulge my real name" he had said to
the publishers; but daily he expected
the author to come forward and hold
| him up as n thief and fraud
One evening he was sitting in his
room when his landlady tapped at the
| door.
He started up guiltily.
What is it?" he shouted a nervous
| apprehension seizlng him.
The landlady entered, closely fol-
lowed by a young woman in walking
costume.
IF you please, Sir" blurted out the
| former, this young woman called to
| see you, and although | told her you
| wasn't going to see anybody, she
would follow me up the stairs, saying
it was very important business" and
| she surveyed the visitor with an eye OF
disgust
Herbert French rose from his chaif.
It's all right, Mrs. Coomber," he
said; you may 60"
won't you be seated?" he asked the
young woman, when they were alone.
"Thank YOU" was the answer in n
pretty feminine voice, I've come from
the Bulletin to interview you, if you
will allow me-"
The man turned pale.
| How did you obtain my addressT'
he asked, with quiver in his tone.
Il will tell you later on" responded
| the interviewer. "You are Mr.. Hall
fax Flanders, aren't you?"
Il am" came the strained reply.
But that is not your real name--ls
it, now?" queried the young woman.
Isn't it Herbert French?"
Herbert French! How do you
know"
Il got it from the same source
whence l obtained your address. l got
it from Miss Jennings typewriting
agency, in Nassau street. An! l see
you recollect." The answer was given
in =, taunting manner that stung
| French to the quick.
what is it you want?" he raved.
who are you? What do you want of
| mo-
Pray calm yourself, my dear sir"
Interrupted The other. IF you viii
resume your seat, l will tell you what
| want with You. Come now, sit down"
Like Il child he obeyed. There was
something in the keen eye of his visi
tor that forced obedience
Now, Mr.. French, l will tell yor
who l am. My name is Nellie Searle--
a name which I suppose you don't
know. 1t is l, and not you, who wrote
The Maze of Life now so famous.
Don't interrupt" as French began
| speaking: listen TO me first. / wrote
that story-wrote when | was nearly
starving Not friend had l in the
whole world-not one. Night after
night, after l had toiled uselessly
through the streets looking for work.
l have sat in my room writing for
dear life, every word l wrote being
| like q drop of my own life'S hlond ooz