Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1907-11-19
: qhe KING Of s
DIAMONDS.
By Louis Tracy,
COPYRIGHT. 1904 By EDWARD J. GLOBE.
Author .'Wnas of the Mornins" " 1.-The Pillar Of -
: Light" Etc. <<S
boys sake. not for mine!"

DOyS SAKE. HOt loT HiIHc'
His extra ordinary attitude, his no
less extraordinary words. amazed at
least two of his hearers. Grenier, rem
dered callous now by sheer hopeless
| ness, was pouring out some brandy
and lighting cigarette. The revul'
sion of feeling ut the sight Of Mason
had calmed him. He would make the
most of the few minutes that were left
before he was handcufrad
DR.. Scarth took the precaution of
locking the door and putting the key
into his pocket. 1t Is doubtful If he
would have done this had he known
Masons violent character. But. un-
known to Philip. he carried revolver.
which he whipped forth when Grenier
bolted and as rapidly concealed when
| 1t was not needed.
"You did not kill me. you see said
Philip. sinking into chair. for the eX-
citement was beginning to tell on him.
The big man slowly dropped his
hands. Hi; prominent eyes seemed to
be- fascinated by the sight of one
whom he threw apparently lifeless in
to the sea.
81 could lick your boots" he said
thickly.
The queer idea sounded iuGiCrous,
Yet 1t conveyed a good deal. 1t smack
ed of remorsc. repentance.
"Tell me-" began Philip, but loud
knocking without interrupted him.
"Who Is there" said DR.. Scarth.
abingdon. I want to see Mr.. An
son." was the reply in voice that
Philip hailed ioyfully.
Mr.. Abingdon was admitted. His
astonishment was extreme ut the ma
ture of the gathering. hut he instantly
noticed Philips wan appearance and
the bandagc on his head.
"My dear, dear boy" he cried, "wha:
has happened"
Philip told him briefly. AS the en-
magistrates glance rested on Mason
and Grenier it became very chilly. 1t
brought Portland prison near TO the
soul of one of them. He poured out
more spirit.
The respite given by Mr.. Abingdon
arrival gave Mason time to focus his
thoughts. The man had lived in an in
ferno since he slipped away from his
sons that morning on a plea of urgent
business In order to catch fast train
for York in the afternoon.
He knew that Grenier woull make
the Station hotel his headquarters. ana
his sole desire was to stop that enter
prising rogue from committing further
crimes which might he damaging to
Anson's estate and disastrous to the
peace of mind of the girl H. loved.
In no way did he hold Grenier re
sponsible for urging him to commit
murder. The Journey to Ior,; was IL!
dertaken IN the first place to save Phil
ip's memory from the slur which was
intended to he cast upon 1t and second
~ to afford plausible pretcXt for Il
platform accident whereby his owa
life should I've dashed out Of him by nlt
engine
He would stumble over barrow
fall helplessly in front Of an incoming
train and end his career far from Lon
don far from inquiry and published
reports which might be injurious to
his sons.
1t might perhaps be necessary to use
forcble means to persuade Grenier to
abandon his tactics They would be
forthcoming. He gave earnest Of that
OH the stairs.
OF course the discovery that Philip
lived gave a fresh direction to his pur
pose. A great load Of guilt was lifted
Off his conscience. but tue position re-
mained little less serious personally.
So when ut last he began to tell his
story there was brutal directncss. n
rough eloquence, that sllenced all ques-
tioning.
At first his hearers thought he was
rambling and incoherent as he describ-
ed his release from Jail, his visit to
the Mary Anson home, his long and
fruitless search for the lost boys.
He told Of his meeting with Grenier.
the espionage they both practiced on
Anson's movements and the plot hatch
ed with Langdon, whose relationship
with Sir Philip and Lady Morland now
| first became known TO Philip.
He was quite fair to Grcnier, giving
him full credit for having stopped him
more than once from numbering Philip
when opportunities presented them
selves. He dealt ruthlessly with the
scene in the Grange House. even smil-
ing dreadfully as he described Gre.
nier's saueamishness over the sugges
ton that Philips face should be bat
! tered into shapeless mass.
Then followed his journey to Lon
don, the meeting with his two sons at
Southwark police station and the tor.
turing knowledge. coming too late, that
he had slain the benefactor Of his wife
and children.
There was an overwhelming pathos
In his recital of the boys kindness to
him. He gave lurid picture Of his
| feelings during the previous night as
he listened to their praises Of Philip
Anson and their pleasant plans for
their fathers future. He only WINGED
once, and that was at the remem-
brance of the parting few hours ago.
And he finished by pitiful appeal
for mercy, not for himself, but for
| Grenier.
81 put the whole thing into his mind.
Mr.. Anson." he said. "He would never
have thought Of robbing you but for
me. Let him go: make him leave the
country. He will never trouble you
again. AS for me, when l so from this
room l walk to my death. You can't
stop me. will not lay hands on you,
| promise, but not all the men In wait
In: there outside can hold me back. In
five minutes or less will he dead. II
will he an accident. No one will be the
wiser. and MY boys vii! IL spared the
knowledge that their father triei to
XII, the man TO whom they ove every
thing"
Catarrh