The suburban citizen., 1901-04-20

and work out story. You hold the
reporters till get back. can't think
here, it's impossible. Keep up your
nerve, my son. It's all right"
He jumped up from his chair and
into his overcoat and out of the office
before his astonished partner could
make an effective protest.
"If Mark Twain and Anthony Hope
come in," he called back from the cor
ridor, tell 'em Wen sell their stun
on a ten per cent. commission"
But Hugh, in reality, did not feel in
facetious mood. He crossed the
street to the Jefferson House, sat
down in the writing room, and chewed
the end Of a penholder. The longer
he thought of it the more serious
seemed the situation. A ludicrous ex-
would disgrace Andy and himself be-
yOnd hope of redemption, their dis
tinguished references would fall upon
them Indignantly, their career In the
literary and publishing world would
end forever He mathematical Scott
/
himself for executing it and the
thoughtless spirit of enterprise which
had made tIem overlook the disho1-
esty Of the thing. And then he set
| himself to the composition Of a sec
ond lie TO save the first.
He finished it on time and smiled
complacently at the result. 1t filed
only two sheets, and yet was impreg-
nable in its simplicity. He put the
statement in his pocket, and returned
to the office.
When he entered he found three or
four men disposed on q row of chairs
at one end of the single room. In
the opposite corner sat little old man,
very much out at elbows, stroking his
gray hair thoughtfully with roll Of
blue paper. Scott was at his desk. A
stout, bearded individual disengaged
himself from the row of men in wait
ing and greeted Loring effusively.
I'm Connors," he said, "Connors,
the literary critic Of the Daily Specta.
tor. Allow me to congratulate you
Mr.. I.oring, upon the recovery Of your
treasure"
What" gasped Loring.
"Its been found" explained Andy,
in voice that suggested q man de-
llvering his last speech on the scaf-
fold. 'The poem, you know, the
epic-the Kipling, England you
know. I Despise Thee"
Hugh's Mortified gaze turned me-
chanically toward the shabby person
in the corner, who thereupon arose and
leaned difldently against the wall,
shifting the blue manuscript from one
hand to the other.
'"This is Mr.. Zenker" went on Scott.
IL told him that I couldn't pay him
the reward until you returned"
Certainly not" Loring put in, hard
ly knowing what he was saying. ITS
absurd. There-there must be some
mistake"
Little Zenler coughed an apology
behind the roll Of manuscript before
speaking. Then he said:
How do you know, sir, begging your
pardon, without n read out Of the
poem? Will you look at it, sir?"
Lorlng did look at It. The manu-
script was pen written in a neat copy
lists hand 1t was properly signed.
The three cantos were bound separ-
ately. 1t answered the description
as advertised in every particular.
"Of course" suggested Mr.. Connors,
pompously, "the interest of the press
in your story determines at the res.
toration Of this gem to it's rightful
owner. But If any extracts from Mr.
Kipling's lines are available for pub
lication--"
by no means" said Lorins, who
had found his breath.
One after The other the reporters
, started to go out; obviously there
was no meat in this business at pres
ent But suddenly the Universe mar
turned to Zenker.
Say cap'n." lie asked, where d
you hang out?"
, Mr. Zeuker bowed eagerly.
''The Pelican Hotel, gentlemen" hi
? replied, ION the Bowery, can give
5 you, dare say, some striking particu
- lars Of this incident, being an ole
Journalist myself. But naturally an
e not at liberty to speak without thC
permission Of Mr.. Kipling's agents
s here"
!. We'll I'll look you up anyhow,
t grumbled the reporter. Good morn
D ing"
The representatives OF the paper
r withdrew without a word about th'
: statement, and Lorlng tore It up Will,
e he stared at Mr.. Zenker. Mr.. Zenke
had red eyes and a trembling chin
= His clothes were shiny aud dilapi
!, dated, and a genial odor Of alcoho
chung about them.
when did you see our advertise
ment" said Loring. sharply.
4 "At four o'clock this morning"
0 "And you've written that poem
/ since then"
- "sir" The red eyes blinked Gun
- ningly.
? Let ME read It," suggested Scott