The Elbert County tribune., 1907-08-22
THE HOUSE OF
A THOUSAND
CANDLES
By MEREDITH NICHOLSON
Author sf THE MAIN CHANCE" ZELDA
DAhERON." Etc.
oopyrishs isoS By Boeb..Asrrfi Co.
CHAPTER xIx.-continued.


me once, while your affair with that
Irish girl was on. that the short upper
lip made Heaven seem possible. but
unnecessary; then the next thing l
knew she had shaken you for the
bloated maltster. Take that for your
impertinence. But perhaps 1t was
Bates?"
did not wait for an answer. / was
not in a mood for reflection or nice dis
tinctions. The man came In Just then
with fresh plate of toast.
Bates, Mr.. Pickering has learned
that / was away from the house on the
night of the attack, and I'm ordered of
for having broken my agreement to
stay here. How do you suppose he
heard OF 1t SO promptly
From Morgan, quite possibly.
have a letter from Mr.. Pickering my
self this morning. Just moment,
SIR"
He placed before me a note bearing
the same date as my own. 1t was
sharp rebuke of Bates for his failure
to report my absence promptly by
wire, and he was ordered to prepare to
leave on the first of February. CLOSE
] will audit your bills on my arrival"
The tone was peremptory and con-
temptuous. Bates had failed to satisfy
Pickering and was flung of like
smoked-out cigar.
How much had he allowed you for
expenses, Bates?"
He met my gaze imperturably.
He pays me $50 month as wages,
sir, and / am allowed $75 for other ex-
penses."
But you didn't buy English pleas
ants and champagne on that allow
ance!"
He was carrying away the coffee
tray and his eyes wandered to the win
dows.
Not quite, sir. You see"
But 1 don't see!"
'It had occurred to me that as Mr..
Pickering's allowance wasn't what you
might call generous it was better to
augment it. Well. sir, took the lib
erty of advancing trifie. as you might
say, to the estate. Your grandfather
would not have had you starve, SIR"
He left hurriedly, as though to escape
from the consequences of his words,
and when l came to myself Larry was
gloomily invoking his strange Irish
gods.
Larry Donovan, I've been tempted
to kill that fellow dozen times! This
thing is too damned complicated for
me. 1 wish my lamented grandfather
had left me something easy. To think
of it-that all the time I've been ours
tnn I,nc Dot OF I
here I've been enjoying his bounty
and he's been giving me the fat of the
land. just because of his devotion to
my grandfather's memory. Lord,
can't face the fellow again!"
'As have said before, you're rather
lacking at times in perspicacity. Your
intelligence is marred by large opaque
spots. Now that there seems to be
woman in the case you're less sane
than ever. Bah, these women And
now we've got to go to work.
Bah, these women! My own heart
caught the words. / was enraged and
bitter. No wonder she had been anx-
ious for me to avoid Pickering in Gin.
cinnati, after daring me to follow her
there!
We called a council of war for that
night that we might view matters in
the light of Pickering's letter. His
assuredness in ordering me to leave
made prompt and decisive action
necessary on my part. / summoned
Stoddard to our conference, feeling
confident of his friendliness.
''Of course" said the broad-shoul-
dered chaplain, 'if you could show that
your absence was on business of very
grave Importance, the courts might
construe in your favor"
Larry looked at the ceiling and blew
rings of smoke languidly. l had not
disclosed to either of them the cause
of my absence. On such a matter
knew should get precious little SYM
pathy from Larry, and 1 had, more
over, a feeling that / could not discuss
Marian Devereux with any one; even
shrank from mentioning her name,
though 1t rang like the call Of bugles
In my blood.
She was always before me,-the
charmed spirit Of youth, linked to
every foot of the earth, every CLEAN of
the sun upon the ice-bound lake. every
glory of the winter sunset. All the
good impulses had ever stified were
quickened to life by the thought of her.
Amid the days perplexities started
sometimes. thinking heard her voice,
her girlisb laughter, or saw her again
coming toward me down the stairs, or
holding against the light her fan with
its golden butterflies. I really knew
SO little of her; could associate her
with no home, only with that last fling
of the autumn upon the lake, the snow
driven woodland, that twilight hour at
the organ in the chapel. those stolen
moments at the Armstrong;. l re-
scented the pressure of the hours af-