Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1906-08-17

mis- oVertures were repealed.
Have you no friends whom you wish
to sect" he asked, one evening, when
Rufus Dawes had proved more than
usually deaf to his arguments.
mo" said Dawes, gloomily. my
friends are all dead to me-
What, all" asked the other. "Most
men have some one whom they wish to
see."
II have resolved. stay here"
And leave your innocence unprov-
edg'
Dawes, roughly impatient. There are
crimes committed which are, never
brought to light, and this is one of
them"
WELL" said Rex, as If weary of the
discussion, "have 1t your own way, then.
You know best. The private detective
game is hard work l, myself, have
gone on a wild goose chase before now.
There's a mystery about a certain ship
builders son which took me four months
to unravel, and then l lost the thread"
"A shipbuilder's son! Who was hep
John Rex paused in wOnderment at
the eager interest with which the Ques-
ton was put, and then fastened to take
advantage Of this new opening for con-
Versation. "a queer story. A we'll
known character In my time-Sir Rich
ard Devine. A misery old curmudgeon,
with a scape-grace SON."
Rufus Dawes bit his lips to avoid
showing his emotion. This was the sec
ond time that the name of his dead
father had been spoken in his hearing.
think remember something Of him, )"
he said, with a voice that sounded
strangely calm in his own ears.
"A curious story" said Rex, plunging
into past memories. among other mat
tiers, dabbled a little in the private
inquiry line Of business, and the old man
came to me. He had a son who had
gone Abroad wild young dog, by all
accounts-and he wanted particulars of
him."
did he get themT"
To a certain extent. 1 hunted him
through Paris into Brussels, from Brus-
sells to Antwerp, from Antwerp back to
Paris. l lost him there. A miserable
end to long and expensive search. I
got nothing but a portmanteau with a
lot of letters from his mother. 1 sent the
particulars to the shipbuilder, and by all
accounts the news killed him, for he died
not long after"
"And the sonP'
Game to the queerest end of all. The
old man had left him his Fortunes
large one, l believe-but he'd left Eu-
rope, 1t seems, for India, and was lost in
the Hydaspes. Frere was his cousin. y
"Ahw
1T annoys me when 1 think of it,"
continued Rex. with the resources I
had. too! Oh, a miserable failure! The
days and nights I've spent walking about
looking for Richard Devine, and never
catching a glimpse of him! The old man
gave me his sons portrait, with full par
ticulars Of his early life, and l suppose /
carried that ivory gimcrack in my breast
pocket for nearly three months, pulling
1t out to refresh my memory every half
hour If the young gentleman was any
thing like his picture, l could have
sworn to him If I'd met him In Tim
buctOO."
do you think you'd know him
againT asked Rufus Dawes, in a low
voice, turning away his head.
There may have been something in the
attitude in which the speaker had put
himself that awakened memory, or per-
haps the subdued eagerness of the tone,
contrasting so strangely with the com
parative inconsequence of the theme,
had caused John Rex's brain to perform
one Of those feats of automatic synthe-
sis at which we afterward wonder. The
profigate son-the likeness to the por-
trait-the mystery of Dawes life! These
were the links of a galVanic chain. He
closed the circuit, and a vivid flash re-
vealed to him-The Man.
Warder Troke coming up, put his
hand on Rex's shoulder. Dawes" he
said, "you're wanted at the yard" and
then, seeing his mistake added, with a
grin, Course you two; you're so much
alike one can't tell t'other from which. y
Rufus Dawes walked off modify; but
John Rex's evil face turned pale, and a
strange hope made his heart leap.
''Troke's right, we are alike. I'll not
press him to escape any more"