Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1907-11-05

L and kept his appointment Will
Inspector Bradley ON Thursday even
ing.
The inspector received him gracious
ly, thus chasing from the ex-convict's
mind lurking suspicion that matters
were awry. There is u curious sym
pathy between the police and vel
known criminals. They meet will
friendliness and exchange pleasantries
as watch dog might fraternize will
wolf in Off hours.
But Mason had no responsive smile
or ready quip.
"What's up?" he demanded mOrosely
"You sent for me. Here am. would
have brought my ticket sooner If you
hadn't written
"All right, Mason. Keep your WOO
on. Do you remember Superintendent
Robinson?"
Him that was inspector il White
chapel when I was put away! Rath
er."
We'll, some friends of yours have
been inquiring from him as to youI
whereabouts. He sent message round
and l promised that you should meet
them If you showed up. l was hall
afraid you had bolted to the States"
Friends! have no friends"
ooh, yes. you have-very dear friends
indeed"
"Then where are they?"
He glared around the roomy police
office, but 1t was only tenanted by po
licemen attending to various books ol
chatting quietly across huge counter
His surly attitude did not diminish
the inspectors kindness.
Don't he so doubtful on that point
Mason. Have you no children?"
Something in the police officers eyes
gave the man clew. His swarthy
face flushed and his hands clinched.
"Yes," he said huskily, 81 left two
boys. Their mother died. They wert
lost. | have looked for them every
where"
Inspector Bradley pointed to door
Go into that room," he said quietly
"and you will find them. They art
waiting there for you
Mason crossed the sanded floor like
one walking in his sleep. He expert
enced no emotion. He was a MAI
stunned for the nonce.
He. opened the door Of the waiting
room and entered cautiously. He might
have expected u hoax, u jest, from his
attitude.
Two stalwart yTlng men were stand
Ing there talking. Their chat ceased as
he appeared. For an appreciablc time
father and SONS looked ut each othe;
with the curiosity Of strangers.
He knew them first. He saw himself
no less than their unfortunate and suf
fering mother, in their erect figures
the contour Of their pleasant faces.
To them be was unknown. The eld
est boy was ten years old, the younger
eight, when they last met. But they
read message in the mans hungerinG
eyes, and they were the first to break
the suspense.
Father cried John.
The other boy sprang to him without
word.
He took them In his arms. He wa:
choked. From some buried font came
long forgotten tears. He murnured
their names. but not a coherent sen
tence could he utter.
They were splendid fellows, he
thought SO tall urd well knit, so nice
hammered, so thoroughly OverjOyed tC
meet him.
That was the best Of 1t. They hat
sought him voluntarily. They knew his
record and were not ashamed to ow'
him. During the long days and night
Of ceaseless inquiry he was ever tor
mented by the dread lest his children
If living. should look on him as &c
cursed, blot OH their existence.
He half hoped that he might discover
them In some vile slum, where crime
was hallowed and convicts were he
roes. He never pictured them as hon
est, well meaning youths, sons oI
whom any father might be proud, fol
in that possibility lurked the gnawini
terror of shame and reputation.
Mason's heart was full. He could no,
thank God for his mercy. That re
source of poor humanity was denied
him, and. to his credit be 1t said, III
was no hypOcrite.
His scared soul awOke to softer feel
ings, as his eyes, his ears, his very
heart, drank In fuller knowledge o
them, but he was tormented In his 10!
by an agonIzed pang Of remorse. Oh
that he could have met them Will
hands free from further crime!
In some vague way he felt that hi
punishment for Philip Anson's deatl
would be meted out by sterner jus
tice than the law of the land He wa.
too hard man to yield instantly. III
II o,u,c boJ hank fha rioino dnnd NJ hOprn