The Lamar register., 1904-03-16

me about him; but like him better
even than thought l should now I've
met him."
Later on, in the retirement of the
best spare bedroom, DIR. Cartwright
was communing with himself:
Il had an idea she'd be a nice girl,
and l wasn't far out. If I'd said an un-
commonly nice girl, l should have
been nearer the mark. Seems a sensi-
BILE girl. too, this one. l should say
her waist was quite twenty-five inches
and an appetite to match! And her
names May. Pretty name that
short and sweet"
At the same moment that the doc
tor was pursuing these reflections.
Ted Burritt was inserting the key
into the lock of the study door. Dur
ing all this time he had allowed none
to enter the room except himself 1t
seemed to him to be full of mysteri-
Gus associations, which no outside
influence should be allowed to dis
turb
Nothing had been moved. His faith
er's chair, pushed back against the
wall, remained just as he had left it
room. The pen lay beside the blot
ting pad, and the dust had accumulat-
ed over everything. He placed the
lamp upon the table and drew up a
chair.
Then he unlocked that same COM
partment. removed the bundles of pa
pers as before, touched the spring
which opened the secret recesses and
took from it the burnt letter.
Again he took a sheet of paper and
a pen from the desk-he would not
use that other which lay beside him.
with the ink dried upon it-and be-
gan again to write and re-write the
words which he knew by heart:
Have not forgotten -. of twenty
years &c. on receiving this letter ...
at once for Dover -. expect to reach
-. There is that between us which
-. not allow you to deny -. l ask
... and many -. you alone can -. II
you refuse. shall -. that you -. as
the criminal -. of your youth
d"
After working at this for about half
an hour, without being able to add so
much as single syllable to what he
had already deciphered. he threw
down his pen.
Il would give anything to be able
to discover the missing words. but it
is quite beyond the bounds of possi-
| bility. And there is no hope this time
| of any Internationally guiding in
| fluence to direct me-to point out the
way-of any spirit voice to speak to
me and tell me-"
Taking up the sheet of paper again
on which he had been employed. he
| saw, to his surprise, as he turned 1t
| over. that it was the same on which
his father had written those words: :
MY dear" The letter which had
| never been finished; 1t was strange
| he had not observed this before!
| Then he took up the pen which his
father must have last used. with the
traces of ink dried upon it. Should
he put 1t away carefully as a relic?
| Or should ii remain where it was a
| little longer? He dropped it and gave
| expression to something between a
yawn and a sigh. I'm uncommonly
| sleepy" he said, land yet | don't feel
| in the least inclined to go to bed.
| have sort of feeling as though
had to sit up for someone" He gave
short laugh. Suppose | turn in on
the sofa for bit? | wonder what
makes me so sleepy? I didn't take
anything at dinner but a little"
His eyes closed, and in few minutes
he was sound asleep. A clock outside
| in the hall struck the half-hour with.
| out any change taking place in his
condition. Another interval of time
| passed and then the clock struck
| again. wo-three-four-fve
| n-eight-nine - ten - elev.
| en-twelvei AS it gave the last stroke
he started up.
ITO be continued)