Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1908-10-28
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81 a WAY Oa ESCAPE .:@$@ .
"lt's like being in prison

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there's no way out.
The man pushed aside the paper:
and got up from the table at which
he had been sitting for some time
The dark December afternoon wa:
fast closing in with fog and rain. A
small fire gave out little heat or light
in the dingy room, end Hugh Beltor
felt he could not settle to the odious
task of trying to write something fol
which he felt only distaste. An order
to write q story Of a certain number
Of words, and on certain given sub
ject; was a thing he hated; yet beg
gars can't be choosers, and as the
story in question would bring in
about ten pounds sterling. it behooved
him to do his best and write it
whatever his private feelings on the
subject might be.
His dark eyes lighted little as
memories CT Phyllis stirred in his
tired mind. If he could only make q
mark in the world-make little
more money. he might get within
measurable distance of his goal, but
until then-bis lips we're sealed. He
loved her; he thought she cared for
him; there was hope enough in that
thought to spur him on to do, or dare
anything, but to-nighthe felt strange
ly i'll at ease; out of humor with his
writing; loath to settle down to work.
1t was the impulse Of the moment
that drove him out into the cold, in
clement dusk, through which he
walked like man in a dream.
Hugh walked on airnlessly, absorb
ed in his own thoughts, which, when
they left Phyllis andher tender smile,
were not very cheerful. The fortune
he was trying to amass in the savings
bank grew but slowly; there were
under a hundred pounds there now,
and it might be the work Of years to
secure such a competence as would
warrant his asking the hand of Phyl-
lis Mason in marriage.
AS he turned the corner into a
Z crowded thoroughfare a man clad in
motoring costume, hurrying out of a
shop. dropped a heavy paper parcel
almost at Hugh's feet. In an instant
the stranger had vanished in the
crowd of hurrying pedestrians, and a
minute later Hugh, having picked up
the fallen parcel, caught sight of him
getting into big motor which sec
ond later hummed away into the mid
die of the traffic and was Immediately
cost to sight The parcel felt like
bundle of papers, and when Hugh
stopped for minute to examine it in
the radiant light of some arc lamps
suspended over jewelers. shop he
found no name written, on the cover,
which was but insscurely fastened
with piece of pink tape. He undld
the tape and looked at a mass of
closely written manuscript. On, the
covering page were name and ad-
'dress-"Ambrose Vernon. the Cot
tage. shenley.'': He looked once more
at the parcel, which he wrapped up
again. Tomorrow he would send it
back to its owner bv post
r. 1t was getting late wnen at last
Hugh went home from his aimless,
Tamble. He had assimilated few
ideas which he felt might work in
well in his story, and promised him
self several hours good work before
he turned in that night. But after
couple OF hours writing his ideas
failed him and he put aside his pen
with sigh Of impatience. Then his
eyes fell OF the parcel tied up with
pink tape. Some impulse made him
open it again and glance more care
fully at the covering sheet on which
the name and address of-presum-
abiy-tbe owner were written in a
meat, characteristic hand
Above was one single word in care
fully printed letters, Bondage"
He turned over the page with his
Interest quickened, and read the same
word at the top of the next sheet, fol-
lowed by a quotation, and Chapter
One" This manuscript, then, was
evidently novel, and almost invol-
unfairly Hugh Belton began to read
the clearly written pages. He never
moved, but read on with his eyes
glued to those closely written pages;
he read on enthralled, blind and deaf
to everything except this amazingly
powerful story which, was unfolded
before him. as a flower unfolds her
exquisite petals to the sun.
Midnight struck at last. He got
up, stretched his weary arms, and
drew long breath. He had read the
work of a genius. Well, tomorrow
he must return the manuscript to its
lucky owner. Yet it was long time
before sleep visited his pillow. He
could think of nothing but the story
he had read and its lucky author. And
early morning found him still tossing
feverishly on his pillow.
Over his, morning coffee and rolls
he still meditated on the story. He
!. opened the morning paper which the
landlady had put beside his plate and
:, glanced at the days news. A heading
caught his eye as he looked casually
down the columns of the front page:
Fatal Motor Accident in Piccadil-
ly.-As a motor driven by chauf-
feur belonging to Mr.. Robert Ainsley
was going down Piccadiliy last even
ing it collided with another car, in
juring the occupant Of the smaller
car slightly, while the gentleman who
was seated bes,1e the chauffeur of