Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1907-04-09
CHAPTER xxy1.

tween Grosvenor square and
| CliGord's Inn He left Chilcote's house
! hastily--with haste that only an ur-
gent motive could have driven him to
i adopt. His steps were quick and un-
even MS he traversed the intervening
streets; his shoulders lacked their de-
4 cisive pose, and his pale face was
marked with shadows beneath the
eyes-shadows that bore witness to the
sleepless night spent in pacing Chill
cote's vast and lonely room. BY the
curious effect OF circumstances the
likeness between the two men had
never been more significantly marked
than on that morning of April 10,
when Loder walked along the pave
ments crowded with early workers
and brisk with insistent news vendors
already alive to the value Of last
nights political crisis.
The irony of this last element In the
days concerns came to him fully when
one newsboy. more energetic than his
fellows, thrust Il paper in front of him.
Sensation In the 'ouse. sir. Speech
by Mr.. Chilcote! Government defeat!'
For moment Loder stopped and his
face Redeemed The tide of emotions
still ran strong. His hand went In
stinctiyely to his pocket; then his lips
set. He shook his head aud walked on.
With the same hard expression about
his mouth, he turned into Clifford s
inn. passed through his own doorway
ana mounted the stairs.
This time there was no milk can on
the threshold of his rooms and the door
yielded to his pressure without the
need of key. With a strange sensa-
ton of reluctance he walked into the
narrow passage and paused. uncertain
which room to enter first. AS he stood
hesitating a voice from the sitting
room settled the question.
who's thereY' it called irritably.
| What do you want?"
Without further ceremony the In
truder pushed the door open and en-
tered the room. AS he did SO he drew
q quick breath-whether of disappoint-
ment or relief it was impossible to say.
Whether he had hoped for or dreaded
it, Chilcote was conscious.
AS Loder entered he was sitting by
the cherries CRATE, the ashes of yes
terday's fire showing charred and
dreary where the sun touched them.
His back was to the light. and about
| his shoulders was an old plaid rug.
/ Behind him on the table stood cup.
teapot and the can of milk: farther
off kettle was set to boil upon a
tiny spirit stove.
In all strong situations we are more
or less commonplace. Loder's first re-
mark as he glanced round the disor-
dered room seemed strangely inef-
fcient.
"Where's noDins?" he asked in a
brusGuc voice His mind teemed with
big considerations. yet this was his
first involuntary question.
Chilcote had started at the entrance
of his visitor: now he sat staring at
chlI - -
where's Robins" Loder asked
again.
81 don't know She L We did
not hit it off. She's gone-went yes
terday.' He snivered and drew the
rug about him.
"Chilcote''- Loder began sternly.
Then he paused. There was something
in the others look and attitude that
arrested him. A change of expression
passed over his own face. He turned
about, with an abrupt gesture, pulled
off his coat and threw it on a chair;
then. crossing deliberately to the fire.
place, he began to rake the ashes from
the CRATE.
Within few minutes he had fire
cracking where the bed Of dead Gin
ders had been, and, having finished the
task, he rose slowly from his knees,
wiped his hands and crossed to the ia
BILE. On the small spirit stove the ket-
tie had boiled, and the cover was lift
ing and falling with tinkling sound.
Blowing out the fame, Loder picked
I'D the teapot and, with hands that
were evidently accustomed to the task,
set about making the tea.
During the whole operation he never
spoke, though all the while he was
fully conscious of Chilcote's puzzled
gaze. The tea ready, he poured it into
the cup and carried it across the room.
Drink thisr' he said laconically.
'The fire will be up presently
Chilcote extended cold and shaky
hand. "You see''- he began.
But Loder checked him almost saw
agely. 81 do-as we'll as though had
followed you from Piccadilly last night.
You've been hanging about. God knows
where, till the small hours of the morn
ing; then you've come back-slunk
back, starving for your internal poison
and shivering with cold. You've set
tied the first part Of the business, but
the cold has still to be reckoned with.
Drink the tea. I've something to say
to you" He mastered his vehemence
and, walking to the window, stood
looking down into the court. His eyes
were blank. his face hard; his ears
heard nothing but the faint sound OF
Chilcote's swallowing. the click OF the
cup against his teeth.
I. For time that seemed interminable
he stood mohouless: then. when he