Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1902-04-17
BY Fred M. Uhite
CHAPTER 1.
SWhO SUeakSs''

time. And yet the mirror was in itself
a thing of artistic beauty-engraved
Florentine glass in a frame of deep old
Flemish oak. The novelist had pur-
chased it in Bruges, and now it stood as
JOY and thing of beauty against the
full red wall over the fir, place. And
Steel had glanced at himself therein and
seen murder in his eyes.
He dropped into chair With groan
for his own helplesSness. Men have
done that kind of thing before when the
cartridges are all gone and the bayonets
are twisted and broken and the brown
waves of the foe come snarling over the
breastworks. And then they die dog
gedlN. with the stones in their hands,
and cu.sing the tardy supports that
brought this black shame upon them.
But Steel's ruin was of another kind.
The man was fighter to his tinger-tips.
He had dogged determination and
splendid physical courage; he had grad
ually thrust his way into the front rank
OF living novelists. though the taste OF
poverty was still bitter in his mouth
And how good success was, now that it
had come!
People envied him. Well. that was all
IN the sweets of victory. They praised
his blue china, they fingered before his
Oriental dishes and the choice pictures
on his panelled walls. The whole thing
was still constant pleasure to Steels
artistic mind. The dark walls. the old
oak and silver, the red shades and the
high, artistic fittings soothed him and
pleased him, and played upon his ten
der imagination. And behind there was
a study, filled with books and engrav-
inSs. and beyond that again, conserv-
atory, filled with the choicest blossoms
Steel could work with the passion flow
ers above his head and the tender grace
of the typical ferns about him, and he
could reach his left hand for his tele-
phone and call Fleet street to his ear.
1t was all unique, delightful, the
dream of an artistic soul realized. Three
years before David Steel had worked in
an attic at bare deal table and his
mother had 93 per week to pay for ev-
erything. Usually there was balm in
this recollection.
But not tonight, Heaven help him,
not tonight! Little grinning demons
We're dancing on the oak cornices, there
were hooking lights cleaning from
Cellini tankards that Steel had given
far too much money for. 1t had not
seemed to matter just at the time. If
all this artistic beauty had emptied
Steels purse, there was golden stream
coming. What mattered it that the To-
cal tradesmen were getting little rest
less? The great expense of the novel
lists life was past. In two years he
would be rich. And the pathos Of the
thing was not lessened by the fact that
1t was true. In two years time Steel
would be well off. He was terribly
short of ready money, but he had just
finished Serial story for which he was
to be paid $500 within two months of
the delivery of the copy; two novels of
his We're respectively in their fourth
and fifth editions. But these novels of
his he had, more or less, given away,
and he ground his teeth as he thought
of it. Still. everything spelt prosperity.
If he lived, David Steel was bound to
become rich man.
And yet he was ruined. Within twen-
ty-four hours everything would pass out
of his hands. To all practical purposes
1t had done so already. And all for the
want of $1,000! Steel had earned twice
that amount during the past twelve
months, and the fruits of his labour
We're as balm to his soul about him.
Within the next twelve months he could
pay the debt three times over He
would cheerfully taken the bill and
doubled the amount for six months de-
lay.
And all this because he had become
surety for an absconding brother Steel
had put his pride in his pocket and in
tor Il
mild-eyed financier, who meant to have
his money to the uttermost farthing.
AT first he hal been suave and sympa-
thetic until he had discovered that
Steel had debts elsewhere. and then
Well. he had signed judgment, and
tomorrow he could levy execution.
Within few hours the bottom would
fall out Of the universe SO far as Steel
was concerned. Within few hours
every butcher and baker and candle
stick maker would come abusively for
his bill. Steel, who could have faced a
regiment, recoiled fearfully from that.
Within a week his oak and silver would
have to he sold and the passion flower
would wither on the walls.
Steel had not told anybody yet; the
strong man had grapplcd with his trou-
BILE alone. Had he been man of bust
ness, he might nave found some way
out of the difficulty. Even his mother
didn't know. She was asleep UP stairs,
perhaps dreaming of her sons great
ness. What would the dear old mater
say when she knew? Well, she had been
a good mother to him, and it ahd been a
labor Of love to furnish the house for
her as for himself Perhaps there would
be few tears in those gentle eyes, but
no more. Thank God, no reproaches
there!
David lighted a cigarette and paced
restlessly around the dining room. New
er had he appreciated its quiet beauty
more than he did now. Thare We're flow
ers blood-red flowers, on the table UNI
der the graceful electric stand that Steel
had designed himself. He snapped off
the light, as if the sight pnined him, and
STROBE into his study. For time he
stood moodily gazing into it's flowers
and ferns. How every leaf there was
pregnant with association. There was
the Moorish clock, droning the midnight
hour. When Steel had bought that