Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1904-06-02

to marty him. | ted you all about il,
but you made light of it then"
"Of course" he said, "and it never
once occurred to me that it might have
touched him seriously. Besides, it is
over five years ago and yet his lonely,
morose nature would perhaps never
forget. Jess"-he waved his arm
vaguely round the almost empty room
Jess, can this be a deliberate scheme
CT %revenge?"
She nodded her head, whispering,
I'm sure of it. felt sure of it from
the first" and his eyes blazed up with
the desire to strike back.
Revenge" he said, slowly, 'is a
game for two. How blind l have been!
| might have known. You knew, Jess.
You knew, and yet you let me go to
him and plead for your sake and the
little 'un. Knowing this, you let mi
CO."
Our need was so great" she an
svered.
"And l." he went on, have entrusted
him with my one great hope-a secret
even from you, Jess. | had an idea for
a patent process that might be worth
thousands to Fairlow's. In our ex-
tremity i confided it yesterday to
Seton Holder, and sought his adj
vice as to it being practicable. He
thought it would be no use; said I
might leave the drawings for consid-
GRAFTON, but felt sure they would be a
failure. Of course, he thought they
would be no use. o, fool, fool, that l
was!"
She covered her face with her
hands, and he sprang up with a cry of
establishment. your ring, your we'd
ding ring" he exclaimed; where is
it,"
g" pawned it," she replied; 1--WE must
not starve. We must make a fight OF
it. Don't think it did not hurt me to
part with it, but it can really make no
difference. I pawned it two days ago
and you have only just noticed. Don't
be angry with me, Jack. Leave go my
wrists; you hurt me-"
"What a success for him." he said,
gravely, ito have already removed the
ring. You are right; we must make a
fight of it."
Nothing wrong, and nothing des-
perate, Jack" she pleaded.
Nothing wrong or desperate" he
promised. But there was an expression
in his eyes she had never seen before.
Later she said to him:
Revenge is not a game for two,
dear. If it was it would go on and on
without stopping. 1t is not even sweet
as they say it is. Promise me you will
attempt no harm to Seton Holder.
You look SO queer, Jack. I am afraid
for you!"
81 promise" he said.
But in his heart he knew he lied.
On the following night he went out
about eight o'clock. She kissed him in
the doorway and whispered again:
Nothing wrong, and nothing desper-
ate, jack" and he solemnly answered:
Nothing to be ashamed of, Jess"
Yet q tempest Of violence ragged within
him as he swung down the dark, lone
ly road. What his actual purpose was
he could not himself have told.
One thing was uppermost in his
mind-he must see Holder at once.
And with the four shillings that Ber-
naby had left he had picked up an
u~ely-looking, secondhand revolver.
He fingered this in his pocket as he
went along. If it were not for the sake
of Jess and the little 'un-No, no,
he must not think of that. But he
must nave his drawings back at any
cost. He almost felt elated at the task
before him. 1t would be an easier
fight, surely, than the fight of the past
few weeks, the fight with those gaunt
leaders to extremes-hunger and cold
and despair.
Fairlow's huge foundry, standing in
the valley before him, shines out in
a glow of its own making-smoke and
flame and roaring furnaces and tower
ing chimneys. He had heard they are
to cast the stern frame of a great ship
between half-past nine and ten. That
will rean Holder experimenting, SO
that he must be on the works until a
late hour. Nothing to be ashamed of,
Jess" he had said. But deep in his
heart he knew that he had lied.
Knowing the place intimately, it was
an easy matter for Jack Simpson to
slip past the time-house and into the
great works of Fairlow's. The night
was almost pitch dark, but he knew his
way and never faltered. On, past the
dark, closed warehouses and pattern
shops, over the bridge and down the
railway, past huge stacks of coal and
iron; now over a waste piece of ground
scattered with giant cog-wheels, ships
anchors, old boilers, cylinders and the
like.
Hist-someone is coming this way.
He dives under a wagon, jumps a low
wall, and finds himself beside the
casting-shop, which seems to revel in
the hum and throb and glow of the
nights work. About 10 feet from the
ground there are large gaps with iron
bars across to take the place Of win
dows. He climbs upon a heap of scrap
metal and peers through n of these.
It is a familiar scene to bim-the long
shop with it's earthen floor Uttered
with molding boxes and tools and
strange machines.
Here men are busy shaping the pill
able clay into many fantastic shapes;
there, fierce, rough-built fires are bak-
ing them dry in readiness to receive
the molten metal. There is the dull
thud Of hammers falling on sand and
dirt, and the shriller rattle of metals
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