Waterbury evening Democrat., 1908-10-05
If it isn't the cove we picked mn

I
 the railrouG track" he said, dog anl
 all! l thought you were far down th1
 coast, where it's warmer. Nothing
 much doing with you, eh?'
 Nothing much,' answered the man
 he addressed. Others might recognize
 him as the black sheep, but this non
 descript watchman whom chance had
 set here could not. He knew him only
 as the dingy .vagabond whose broken
 head he had bandaged in the box car
 I'm in better luck" went on the
 man in shirt sleeves. "I struck this
 about two months ago as gardener
 first, and now I'm kind of a sort of a watchman. They gave me bunk in ! the summer house there"-he ierked his thumb backward over his shoulder but I know game worth two of that for these cold nights. I'll show you. I can put you up for the night" he added, Eff you like"
 The wayfarer shook his head. q must get away tonight, but I'm much obliged"
 Haven't done anything, have youT' asked his one time companion curi- ously. You didn't seem that sort"
 The bearded face turned away. I'm not wanted by the police, no, but I'm on the move. and the sooner take the trail the better. I don't mind night travel"
 You'd be better for rest" said the watchman, but you're the doctor Come in, and we'll have nip of some thing warm anyhow"
 His guest followed him into a spa cious ball, scarce conscious of what he did. A double door to the left was shut, but he nevertheless knew perfect ly that the room it hid had tall French window letting on to garden where camellias had once dropped like blood. The open door to the right led to the library.
 There the yellow light touched the dark wainscoting, the marble mantel- piece, dim paintings on the wall and a great brass bound Korean desk in a corner. What black thing had once happened in that room? What face had once looked at him from that wheel chair? It was an old face gray and lined and passionate, his father doubtless. He told himself this calmly, with an odd sense of apartness.
 The others glance followed his pride fully. Its fine property" he said. "The owners an invalid, hear, with one leg in the grave. He's in some sanitarium and can't get much good ot it. Nice pictures, them," he added, sweeping candle round. That's a good locker over there. Must be the old mans daughter, I reckon. Well, I'll go and get you finger or two to keep the frost out of your lungs. It'll be cold tonight Make yourself at home." The door closed behind him.
 The man he left was trembling vio- lently. He had scarcely repressed cry The portrait that hung above the was Jessica's, in house dress of soft Romney blue and sin gle white rose caught in her hair. "The old mans daughter The words seem- ed to echo and re-echo about the walls, yoicing new agony without name. Then Jessica was his sister!
 AS he stared dry eyed at the picture In the candle light the misery slowly , passed. He must know. Who she was, what she was to him. he must learn beyond peradventure. He cast a swift glance around him. Orderly rows of books stared from the shelves; the ma hogany table held only pile of old magazines. He strode to the desk, drew down its lid and tried the draw CTS. They opened readily, and he rap. dly turned over their litter of papers, written in the same grabbed hand that lad etched the one damning word on he draft he had found in the cabin on Smoky mountain. Most of the papers he searcher saw at a glance were of 10 import, and they gave him no clew 0 what he sought. Then, mysteriously guided by the subtle memory that seemed of late to haunt him, though he vas but half conscious of its guidance, lis nervous fingers suddenly found and | pressed d spring. panel fell down, md he drew out folded parchment Another instant and he was bending l ,ver it with the candle, his fingers | racing familiar legal phrases of will ! aid there long ago. He read with the | blood shrinking from his heart:
 ''To my son, Hugh. in return for the | are and sorrow he has caused me all | he days of his life fnr his dissnlnfe