Waterbury evening Democrat., 1907-06-12

 Moths are more in his line apparently. My uncle, who is preparing mono graph on the feas which patronize Ex- moor wild ponies, came to town last week to visit the British museum. Un- happily he heard something about his stepson which disturbed his researches. There was row." "Why do you say 'unhappily ?" Because I am dragged into the wretched business on account of It. After lapse of more than twenty-five years he remembered his sister. went to his solicitors, made fearful hub bub when he heard of letters received from her and answered without his knowledge and ascertained that she was dead and had son living. At any cost, they must find that son. They have guessed at my identity for some time. Now they want to make sure Of it."
 And what did you sayy'
 q told them l would think over the situation and communicate with them further"
 Were they satisfedY'
 By no means. They are exceeding ly anxious to placate the old man. They probably control good deal of his money"
 "Umr'
 "Of course! You see the delicacy of their position. After playing into the hands of Lady Louisa for nearly a quarter of century they suddenly find the whole situation changed by the baronet's belated discovery that he once had sister,"
 You have not told me all this with out purpose. Do you want my ad- viceY -,.'
 Philips face was clouded, his eyes downcast.
 You understand" he said after a long pause, that some one, either the man or the woman-the woman, I think-is morally responsible for my mothers death. She was poor-wretch- edly, horribly poor-the poverty of thin clothing and insufficient food. She was i'll, confined to miserable hovel for weary months and was so utterly un- provided with the barest necessities that the parish doctor was on the point of compelling her to go to the work house infirmary when death came. Am I to be the instrument of Gods vengeance on this woman?"
 Mir. Abingdon, who had risen to light a cigar, placed kindly hand on the young mans shoulder.
 Philip" he said, with some emo tion, T have never yet heard you utter a nasty judgment You have prudence far beyond your years. It seems to me, speaking with all the reverence of a man in face of the decrees of Provi- dence, that God has already provided a terrible punishment for Lady Louisa Morland. What Is the name of her sonr
 T do not know. I forgot to ask."'
 T have a wide experience of the jeunesse doree of London. Hardly a week passed during many years of my life that one of his type did not ap- pear before me in the dock. What is he-a roue, gambler, probably a drunkardT
 "All these, I gathered from the so- licitors." .
 And if your mother were living, what would she say to Lady Nor landY
 "She would pity her from the depths of her heart. Yes, Abingdon, you are right. My uncle's wife has chosen her own path. She must follow 1t. let 1t lead where 1t will. I will write to Messrs. Sharpe & Smith now. But step into my dressing room with me for moment will you?r
 In a corner of the spacious apart ment to which he led his guest stood large safe. Philip opened it. Within were a number of books md docu- ments, but in a large compartment at the bottom stood a peculiar object for such a repository-an ordinary leather portmanteau. He lifted 1t on to couch and took key from a drawer in the safe.
 This is one of my treasures which you have never seen." he said, with q sorrowful smile. Tt has not been in the light for many years"
 He revealed to his friends wonder. ing eyes the tattered suit. the slipshod boots, the ragged shirt and cap. the rusty doorzey, associated with that