Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1901-01-16

For some time Surveyed the package,
reluctant to break the seal.
Of his efforts in the past i begged of
him to act for me as he had acted for
my father.
That being satisfactorily arranged,
he returned the will to the black tin
box and drew therefrom small pack
age.
This, Mr.. Kingston" he said, bal
ancing the parcel In his sleek, white
hands, twas sent to US by your father
some six or seven months ago with the
intimation that we should hold 1t dur
ing his lifetime, but that IL any unfore-
seen contingency occurred we were to
deliver 1t into your hands. Therefore
have much pleasure in complying with
his last request"
In his grayely pompous fashion he
handed me the parcel, which was
wrapped in stout brown paper plenti-
fully sealed with blue wax. On the
face was written in somewhat shaky
hand: ITO my son, Davie Kingston.
70 be opened after my death. In the
case OF his death to be destroyed"
The lawyer went on with his expla-
nations:
"The letter that accompanied this
was very precise in its tone. was to
guard the package strictly and by no
chance let 1t fall into the hands Of a
third person. 1t was, he said, COM
munication intended for his son only,
and In the event of your death was to
return 1t to him II he were alive; If not,
myself was to destroy it intact. /
need scarcely say, Mr.. Kingston, that
your father reposed the utmost conf
dence in me"
Not without good reason, 1 am
sure" said my uncle graciously.
Mr.. Martin bowed.
"We make point of setting our eli
ents' interest before aught else" said
he. "Unhappily am in the unfortu-
nate position Of having to hand this
over so soon. However. have done
my duty, and l sincerely trust the
packet may contain nothing but what
will prove eminently agreeable"
Thanking him again, we took our
leave. bearing the mysterious pack
age under my arm. At the door we
hailed hanson and after making a
couple of business calls turned west
ward.
Now" said my uncle, I'VE shall see
what the old man has got to say"
held the parcel before me and look
ed again and again at the superscrip-
ton, "To my son, Dayie Kingston"
Here probably was the explanation l
had sought for two long weary years.
This was the key which would open
the lock Of the mystery of his life. No
wonder regarded it with some appre-
henslon, though even the worst he had
to tell could not exceed many of my
vivid imaginings.
When our cab pulled up at the house
in Dover street, sprang quickly from
It, opened the door and was half way
up the stairs before heard my uncle
close the door behind him. However,
he was no less eager than l, and he
came up after me in double quick time.
But first we took the precaution Of
locking the door, then of examining our
sleeping rooms beyond. The investiga-
tion proving satisfactory, he returned
to me and taking up the parcel from
the table on which / had thrown it SUBJ
jected 1t to close scrutiny.
TITS manuscript, Davie," he said.
1.-THE old man has story to tell, a
: strange one, have no doubt, terrible
one perhaps. But we may as well know
It And remember-he's dead" He
handed 1t to me, then turned to the
mantelpiece and began to fill his pipe
from stone jar.
For some time surveyed the pack
age. reluctant to break the seal, for
had my doubts as to the wisdom Of ac-
quiring the knowledge here contained.
I had seen enough of my father to galr.
an inkling Of his past. had never
been too proud Of him. Would this
lessen that pride? almost wished
that he had not left me this heritage,
II he had nothing good to tell, why
break the silence? And yet en- .
against himself for my benefit-e
might be about to speak. Lookin} sr
the package, saw my uncle coma "a
bly, seated In IN armchair, apparl itly
waiting III ray ID hegln = VII A1st
s,.rS.ssaness0ss sss4 vn0Illa.nam8 Y