Waterbury evening Democrat., 1907-06-17

where a prccipitous valley tore cleft in the land. On lofty brow in front Philip saw a solitary and half dlsman. tied building,
 'Is that the Grange Houser he in quired.
 "Yes."
 "Why on earth did two old people. one of them an invalid. select such lonely residenceT'
 That has been puzzling me for days"
 How long have they been here"
 "I cannot say. I was only called in four days ago."
 They passed a policeman patroling his country beat. The doctor gave him an affable smile. The man saluted promptly. but looked after them with puzzled air. He continued to watch them at intervals until they reached the Grange House.
 Anson noticed that the track-it was gate guarded bridle path now mounted steadily to the very threshold. "The place stands on the edge of a cliff" he said. '.Yes. It was built by some recluse. The rock falls sheer-indeed, slopes in- ward to. some extent-for 300 feet" some day, suppose, 1t will fall into the sea- Es Probably, but not in our time. Here ,swe are. Just. allow me to hitch the reins to the gate post" He jumped lightly out of the dog. i cart.
 Are there no servants? "Only an old woman and her daugh- ter. They are busy at this hour" Philip understood that meal might ] be in preparation. He hoped not. ] Personally he could not eat there i Dr. Williams pressed the latch of an l old fashioned door. He whispered: i Be as quiet as possible. He may be asleep. If he Is, 1t will not be for long, poor fellow" -,--.5,-s .s,s 1 Indeed the doctor himself betrayed 1 some slight agitation now. He perspir- B ed somewhat. and his hand shook. | Anson followed him into sonber ! apartment, erudely furnished, half din. ] ing room. half kitchen. Though the ! light of a June evening was clear enough outside, the interior of the house was gloomy in the extreme There were some dark curtains shroud 1 ing doorway. | .Lady Morland is in there," murmur 1 ed the doctor brokslly. twill you e to her?''
 i Philip obeyed in silence. He passed through the curtains. It was so darl that he imagined he must be in passage with door at the other end
 Can't 1 have a light?' he asked partly turning toward the room he had just quilted.
 |, In the. neglected garden at the land ' ward front of the Grange House the horse stood patiently on three legs ruminating no doubt on the steepness i of hills and the excellence of pastures Nearly an hour passed thus in solemn 1, quletude. Then boy on bicycle red faced with exertion, pedaled man fully up the hill and through the gate.
 q hope he's here." he thought. ''It's a long way to coon for nothin'." Around his waist was strap with [ pouch bearing the kings monogram | He ran up to the door and gave cou pie of thunderous knocks, the privileg ed rattat of a telegraph messenger.
 There was a long delay. Then heavy step approached, and a mar opened the door-a big, heavy faced man, with eyes that stared dreadfull! : and nose damaged In life's transit.
 Philip Anson, Esq.," said the bo. br!sl,ly, producing a buff colored en velope. The man seemed to swallow some thing. ..-. ' "Yes; he's here. Is that for hlm7"
 "Yes, sir. Any reply?"
 The man took the telegram, closet the door, and the boy heard his retreat ing footsteps. After some minutes h returned. "It's too late to reply tonight, ism itY' he inquired. -s "Yes, sir. It coom'd after hours. bu they'd paid t porterage r Lunnon so postmistress said ye'd mebbe like t hev It at vance. I've ridden all t wa, frae Scarsdale."
 Late that evening, when the pro tracted gloamlng of the north was fas yielding to the shadows of a cloud night. the big man from the Grang House drove Into Scarsdale. He pulle up at the Fox and Hounds publi house. He wanted Mir. Green.
 Anson's valet came. ..
 Your master says you are to brin his portmanteau to the Grange Hous tonight. He intends remaining thers You, must get the landlord to sit u until you return. It will take you a hour and half 10 drive both ways"
 Green was ready in five minutes He .learned that stable boy mus crouch at their feet to bring the dos .l cart back. It was the property of tn Fox and Hounds proprietor. ! Very unwillingly the horse swun ofr again toward the moor. There wa little conversation. The driver wa taclturn. the Londoner somewhat seal ed by the dark loneliness.
 At the Grange House they were m,
 
 by Philip Anson. He stood in the one doorway. He held q handkerchief his lips and spoke in husky voice. th voice of one under the stress of gres l agitation.
 That you. Green? Just give my ba to the driver and return to the villag