The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1903-09-09

erb which remarks that there IS no use
In crying over spilled milk. Jim Break
spears treasures were gone, and at pres
ent he did not see his way to recovering
| them, tho he would willingly joyously
have sacrificed not only the whole con-
! tents Of the portmanteau but most Of his
other possessions as well If he could have
lured back the photograph and that curl
of ineffable. glowing gold
! He rallied at his own stupidity, and
| then interrupted his self-railings by ques-
tioning whether, after all, he could have
| done differently from the time that Vivien
| Oakley had appeared at his door. The
| fault lay before that. If only he had not
! taken out the picture and the lock of
hair to look at while he dined, but had
| had the sense to keep them In his pocket,
they would be there still. The thought
was maddening. The more he reflected
| the mora strangely did the coincidence
| Of Miss Oakley's visit at such a time
| loom into prominence. She had come;
she had taken him away from his rooms;
she had rendered it virtually impossible
| for him to so much as carry off the photo
| graph. She had kept him out Of the
| house for nearly two hours; she had men
toned the name which the thief had at
| that very moment been borrowing for
purposes Of his own. Then, last, but
not least, in her cab had been found a
key fitting the black portmanteau, a key
whose label was marked with blue NAL
J
| tese cross. 80
At first it had seemed too far-fetched,
too ridiculous even to think Of the fash
ionable young beauty in the smart
| world which was patrOnizing the ex-
| cowboy and returned South African vol
unteer because Of his good looks and
reputation for courage-even to think Of
her in connection with the mystery of
portmanteau bought by chance at sale
of lost luggage. 1t seemed ridiculous, but
Tf,,o 49, lN1,> 4l~s >1-l-
result Of this thinking he resolved that,
despite his previous contrary inclination,
| he would go to Brighton on the following
| day. He would accept Miss Oakley's sug-
gestion; they would travel together.
Another idea that he had was to go
the Marylebone police station, tell his
story, and have the thief tracked. But
| on second thoughts he made up his mind
that it would be more to his own interest
not to adopt this course at present. For
| one thing he must, of course, not only
leave Miss Oakley's name out OF the queer
tale he would have to TELL but would
be wise not even to mention the fact that
a lady had visited him, lest the police
should discover her Identity and drag
her headlong into the affair.
Besides he would not wish to speak of
the photograph and lock Of hair. Yet it
was the original photograph. the owner
Of the hair, that he desired above all to
be allowed to help him along that road,
Of what use would they be to him? He
began to think that the police would only
conplicate matters. and that he would,
at all events, try his luck alone. He
had a surprise for Miss Oakley, and meant
1 tot watch It's effect upon her. without
mercy. So far he was hard towards the
girl he had once nearly loved. If the
surprise worked he might gain a clue
to the disappearance Of his treasures,
which at best the police would be long
in according to him. If the attempt failed
he would be no worse off than before, ex-
cept that he would have lost few hours
: time; and this loss he was ready to risk.
Vtvien Oakley and her maid, whom she
had brought back to London with her,
, were early in arriving at the Victoria
station next day. Vivien had not slept
an hour during all the night and even
the white-rose balm, which that clever
creature Madame st. Julian made in q
manner to defy detection, could not quite
hide the hodllows under the topaz eyes.
:, Vivien easily passed for two-and-tw
). ty, even in the broadcast daylight, and in
summer she affected white muslin and
Leghorn hats, which became her excel
, lently, making her look quite angelically
, young and innocent. But to-day she felt
,, the burden Of each one of her 80 years,
r like a separate weight upon her shoulders.
. Even when she shut her eyes she could
see that beautiful young face In the pho
tograph, unconsciously insolent in the tri-
, umph of its youth; and the sense of the
, sudden change in Jim Breakspear was
like the east wind that crept into her
bones and made her shiver on this bleak
morning, so unlike an ideal April day.
! She had felt almost sure of Jim until
now, and she had been pleased with her
self in seeing how love had pushed ambi-
ton out Of its old place in her heart She
had never been really, desperately, pas
sionately in love before, and the sensa-
ton was glorious: she had revelled in it.
Surely her unworldiness deserved It's re-
> ward. Surely she was to be happy, when
all she asked for happiness was the love
Of young man from the wilds, with
q nothing on earth to recommend him ex-
:. cept his handsome face his splendid
e physique, his agreeably reckless airs, and
; the courage Of which her friends were
! talking.
WHO can the girl be7" she was asking
herself this morning. lis it some one he
has just met, or Is 1T girl in America
whom he has left behind and never said
! anything about? The photograph must
: have been taken years ago. She isn't as
= young as that now. Still, she's young, oh
: she's young! A child beside me, If people
only knew all about me that know. But
thank goodness they don't"
;. AS she thought her eyes Travelled anxi-
: ously about the station. There had beer
l. something in Breakspears manner last
night when he said he would "try to ar.
e range things so that he might travel te
! Brighton with her which had made Vivian
c think that he wanted an excuse to escape
9 If he didn't come, she might take it as 8
. sign that all was over. If-but suddenly
;. light sprang UP in her eyes, the look of age
: and harrassed WEAKNESS was gone as II
l it had never been. He was coming. Nov
n he saw her and answered her smile. Il
| lNf 1nof h4 ,aS H.
q him yet. No woman in the world should
q come between them; no obstacle but
y should be swept away as by mountain
q torrent swollen by spring rains now tina,
e he-the dearest, handsomest fellow alive
n was 50 nearly hers. All In moment she
was radiant, beautiful and young again
. The train was not crowded, but Vtvian's
y heart gave a throb Of JOY az she saw
n Breakspear tip the guard. He wanted tt
If be alone with her, bless him! The worlt
% was a, delightful place, after all.
IS The maid brought in her mistress small
d luggage and then disappeared, going t,
le her own second-class compartment. I
It Breakspear desired to be alone will
y Vivian he had his wish.
You'll never say I'm conventions
= again after last night and this morning
- will your she began, striking new not,
Is of intimacy. You used to say was, 70,
= know. But you understand me bette
i now. It was good Of you to come.
le was feeling rather down after the excite
ment Of my adventures last night"
j. "By the way, did you miss anything
IN after left you?" asked Breakspear, hi