Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1907-01-05

did, he could imagine what her life had
been these last three years. Her sense OF
duty was mistaken one perhaps, but /,
was nobly carried out, all the same. Sooner
or later the effort must be lost, and it &C.
CURED to Remington that 1t would be cruel
to hurry the end Besides, there would be
a greater satisfaction to him to feel that
he had beaten Sartoris at his own game.
Il love you now l loved you in the
happy years gone by" he said. Indeed,
love you more, for 1 know how you have
suffered, dearest. Mind you, 1 am not
afraid. / do not regard myself as being In
any great danger here-that is not the point.
So l will write the letter and you shall de-
liver it when you please. What is that?"
There was a sudden commotion at the far
end of the speaking tube. and something
like the sound of wheels Bennington bent
his head eagerly to listen.
us there anybody there?" he asked
My brother is coming back Mary said
in a voice so faint that Bennington could
hardly catch the words. Il must ny. If he
knows that / have been here he will have
soon as possible
The whistle was clapped to, and the con-
versation ended There was nothing for it
now but patience. Bennington took the pen
and began to write the letter. He wondered
If he could possibly warn Beatrice between
the lines. There was yet a chance that
Mary might not be the messenger
Bennington racked his brains, but all to
no purpose. He must leave the matter to
chance, after all. The spea king tube was
going again. for the whistle trilled shrily
Sartoris was at the other end again; he
seemed to be on very good terms with him
self
What about that letter. he asked.
Have you changed your mind yet? Soil
tary confinement worked sufficiently on
your nerves yet? Not that there's any
hurry"
What shall I gain if write the letter."
Bennington asked.
Gain! Why. nothing. The cards are all
in my hands. and l play them as 1 please.
Yours not to reason why, yours not to
make reply, as Tennyson says. For the
present you a prisoner and for the
present you stay where you are. But one
thing for your comfort. The sooner that
letter is written and dispatched. the sooner
you will be free. We are not taking all
these risks for nothing and our reward is
close at hand now, l may tell you. If you
don't write that letter shall have to forge
1t. and that takes time Also a longer de-
tention of your handsome person. Ii you
consent to write that letter you Will be
free in eight and forty hours. Don't ad-
dress the envelope"
Bennington checked a desire to fling the
suggestion back in the speakers teeth. Ii
angered him TO feel that he was in the
power of this little cripple, and that events
in which he should have taken a hand were
proceeding without him. But 1t was no time
for feeling of that kind
Il admit the defeat of the moment" he
said. Il will write that letter at once But
look to yourself when my time comes"
Sartoris laughed seornfully, as he could
afford to do. Bennington could hear him
humming as he clapped in the whistle. and
then silence fell again. The letter was fin
ished and sealed at length and pushed I'M
der the door as Sartoris had directed. A
little later and there came the sound of a
footstep outside and gentle scratching on
the door panel
is that YOU, MaryT' Bennington asked,