Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-07-29

struck down and helpless ike that
Davids close interest in her story pleased
the girl Such nice young man he was! Per-
haps he might call again some evening.
my missus wasn't quite right the rest OF
her time, | don't think" she went on. She
wandered about the fat, restless as strange
kitten singing bits OF songs. and she had a
sweet soprano voice, I'm sure that pierced
you through when she screamed out the high
notes. She didn't go to the theater any more,
after the letter. The next day she comes to
me in the kitchen, singing and chuckltng to
herself, and she says to me- What are you
doing here? says she How do you mean,
NUM- says l. Listen Sarah says She put
ting her face quite close to mine, you shouldn't
be here this is not a place for decent girl
like you You to understand that | am
not married. l told you that ! was; but it
was lie | have a child; but l am not mar
RED, and she ran off, laughing again to her
self, as wild as bird.
mo, not that" interrupted David, for the
outspoken revelation hurt him. 1t was not
so much that which wished to hear. Let us
talk of the letter and the man 4 GU never saw
the letter again? You can't think what your
mistress may have done with it
No, / never saw it again, said Sarah, nor
l can't think where she may have put it, un-
less she tore it up. There's only one queer
thing which | can call to mind, and that IS,
that during the afternoon of the day before
she died went out to buy some soda, and when
| came back found her standing chair,
hanging UP one of the pictures in the long cor
ridor wondered at the time whether it
had fallen down or what, though didn't say
anything. But now come to think of it"
David thought to himself She was then
hiding the marriage and birth certificates
which Miss L Estrange afterward saw when
the picture fell. She reluctant to destroy
them, and yet wished to screen the man, hav-
ing in her mind the purpose to take her own
life The mans photograph and the fatal let
ter from him were not hidden in the picture,
but somewhere else perhaps. l must search
"0f course" he said aloud, you could
easily identify her husband If he was shown
to you again.
ooh, rather, sir" Sarah answered. I've
seen him dozens of times. He used to come
to the fat anyway twice week, though some
| times he would be away for goodish stretch,
mostly in Paris.
They were an affectionate pair-fond OF
each other!"
They were that, indeed, said Sarah with
smirl as one who understood that sort of
thing He, I'm sure, worshiped the ground
she walked on, and she was just as bad.
What name did she call him by?" asked
David His name was Johann Strauss,
wasn't it,"
HE was Mr. Strauss, sir, yes, but not the
other name you say. At least, she always
called him Harry
Henry. too was the name of the child,
wasn't it? Don't you know where it isl
Il only know that she used to go every
Tuesday and Thursday by the two-seventeen
train from Baker-st, and be back by six
| o'clock; so it couldn't have been very far.
| Pom my word, sometimes she'd go half crazy
over that child There little box of
clothes that she's many time made me waste
half day over, showing me the things, as if
I'd never seen them afore, everything that
was possible embroidered with violets, and
she'd always be making"
1t was Just then that the mistress of the
tavern looked in with an unsympathetic face;
so David rose and slipped gold coin into the
hand of the staring Sarah. The talk had al
ready lasted a long while, and the inn door
had to be opened to let him out.
He walked the two miles back to the station,
and there learned that the last up-train for
| the night had just left.
1t was now question either of knocking
up some tavern, or of tramping to London
about twenty-one miles. However, twenty-one
miles made no continent to him, and, after
posting himself by questions as to the route,
he set out.
Throwing his overcoat over his left arm, he
put his elbows to his ribs, lifted his face sky
ward, and went away at long, slow, swinging
| trot One mile winded him. He stopped and
walked for five minutes, then away he went
again at a steady jog-trot; and now, with this
second wind, he could have run in one heat to
| Bow Bells without any feeling but of joy
all Il,