The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1901-03-10

BY
Phoebe HART

Copyright, 1901. by Phoebe HART

Sc14Sti. Cnt ; % nave UOlulUB 10
eat; she's to take nothing but her medi-
cine
He dried Myra and wrapped her in the
fannel again as tenderly as any woman
could have done. and he cooed and muir
INJURED TO her and talked to her in baby Ian
guage.
What would it's daddy have done If he
had lost it. Ell. pet? Petty pet"
You're a rum 'un.' remarked Mr.. Bur-
ton.
Why? You don't believe ! should nave
cared!"
"Oh, yes; / believe you have cared" re-
piled the detective. And now let me have
a spell at this business. Bless you. 1 was a
grandfather before you were a father; and
III back myself TO know a jolly sight more
about children than you do-no ofsense.
Come, give me the little lady. ana you get
the tea ready-itu be a rest for YOU"
Thanks" said Kershaw. I'm pretty
nearly soaking And he wiped the per-
spiration streaming off him.
Thomas Burton Invested himself of his
short jacket and waistcoat and took MIRA
from Kershaw. who seemed satisfied at a
glance that she was in safe hands.
You must never leave off tanning the
steam on TO her" he said.
, Then he refIled the kettles and sauce
pans. and ,emptied the bath and put it
aside. But through all these operations
his eyes scarcely left the child. She seemed
somewhat easier. and Kershaw and Burton
were able to enjoy their tea in peace.
Il wish you could have seen her when
she was WE'LL said Myra's father, proudly.
Such a pretty little mite!'
How old?"
Fifteen months. She hasn't that ugly
squint when she's well: she has fair curly
hair; a color like a rose; toddles about. and
such sweet ways!'
us she-is she like her mother?' asked
Burton, nodding towards the still figure
on the bed.
Kershaw's features quivered. II don't
think there'll be anybody like her." he said.
And there followed a silence. which Burton
found difficult to break. Soon Myra claimed
all their attention. The whole performance
had to be gone through again. and as Ker-
J shaw took her from the bath and held her
wrapped in the flannel. Spare her to me,
o God, spare herr he m
We'll, you just about beat me, that's all
l can say" said Mr.. Burton, walking up
and down..
For the rest of the night the two men
shared the anxious work. 1t seemed as
If they were lighting with Death to clutch
this young life from his grasp.
As the. day broke Myra sank into a sleep
and they dared hope. 1t is only fair to
say they because IL was not only the
father, whose love and care she had a
| right to claim, but this utter stranger re-
| joiced with him. as if he also were of her
| nearest and dearest.
Sympathy born i'm time of sickness is
| born strong. Sergeant Burton had a soft
heart, and poor little squirting. coughing.
sneezing, painting Myra appealed to him
as she never would have appealed to him
in her sturdy, healthy l~oveliness.
Il should just like to know" he remarked
when they seemed at last to have time to
talk. Il should just like to know why. If
you were so precious fond of that poor dead
lady and this little mite why you thieved
so that you'll set in prison for the best
years of your life. People who commit
crimes astonish even me sometimes. You
must have known you'd get caught some
time or other"
Then Kershaw told his story. There was
nothing very new in it.
A delicate wife, who had been used to
every comfort; a husband with a clerks
salary to give her still every comfort. Ev-
erything going smoothly for the first year
or two of marriage. and then the child
comes and the wife is never quite strong
afterwards Illness soon swallows nearly
all that the husband has put by, and al
most every penny that he earns from week
to week. The wife fades for the want of
an easy, untroubled life in a warm climate,
- - l,x,r;oS shat IN tho end he cannot
attempt TO provide for her. AT last he
gives up the struggle and his fingers itch
to clutch the money that passes through
them day after day.
II made up my mind TO be a knave,' he
said. but not a fool as we'll. Nothing less
than enough to save her and the child from
want for the rest of their lives would salts
fy me. So | planned the robbery. We would
go from one warm climate to another till
we found a place that suited her. and she
should have her luxuries, and when we
were in safety I'd find something TO do.
She. poor thing. of course knew nothing.
L told her 1 had got the firm TO draft me to
South America. I gave up the house and
brought her to this hole for a few days
under an assumed name. One can hide best
among the poor. 1 told her she must be
ready at any moment to go with me. She
thought we were cutting from some paltry
debts. which she had been dunned for all
day and every day, and which worried her
to death. / planned the robbery, and when
once / got her here, l did it."
He stopped a second or two; he was white
to the lips
1T was q villainy, and towards good mas
tiers. make no excuse for myself. But
that she should know peace and ease, SO
that she could live. 1 declare was my only
reason. 1 couldn't see her slip away from
me as she was doing. AS for being found
out. you. as a detective. could name better
than | could the robheries that have never
been found out. even of bank notes. We
should have been all right, / think. l had
arranged everything. But she got very i'll
suddenly, and Myra was i'll. AS they did
not Join me, l risked everything and came
TO them. AT once 1 saw all hope was over.
She died in my arms this afternoon-this
afternoon. Died-died-died!'
He raised his face. which, in its grayness
and hardness, might have been cut in some
stone weather-worn by the tearing ele-
ments of centuries. and as he looked at the
-