The Salt Lake tribune. [volume] (Salt Lake City, Utah) 1890-current, 1908-11-08
CHAPTER XVII.
Into tho Golden Sunset.
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Tenantless House.

months ago now, and the parish needs
! rector
He did not reply for a moment. The
| question touched tho trouble that was
abouts of Harry Sanderson had caused
him many sleeplcss hours, and the look
of frozen realization which had met his
stern and Mortified gaze that unforgct
able night-a look like that Of tranced
occultist walked in the dcmoncon-
strained commission of some rueful i'm
piety-had haunted the good man s
vigils. He had knowledge Of the by
paths of the human soul, and the more
! he reflected the less the fact had fitted
The wild laugh of Hugh s, as he had
vanished into the darkness, had come
to seem the derisive glcc Of the tempter
rejoicing in his handiwork. Recollcc.
tion of Harry's depression and the in
somnla of which he had complained
had deepened his conviction that some
phase of mental illness had been re-
sponsible. In the end he had revolted
against his first Grass conclusion, When
the announced vacation had heightened
deeply .perplexed, for the welfare of
the parish must be considered
81 know he said at length. ~
may have failed in my whole duty, but
I haven't known how to tell David
Stlres. especially since we heard Of his
illness, L had written to him-the
, whole story; the ink was not dry on
the paper when the letter came from
Jessica telling us of his death. -
Behind them, as they talked, the man
on the pavement was walking on fever
ishly, the organ music pursuing him, the
dog following with reluctant whine:
At last he came to wide, dark lawn
set thick with aspens clustering about
a white house that doomed grayly in
the farther shadow. He hesitatcd a mo.
ment, then walked showly up the broad,
weed-grown garden path toward its
porch. In the half light the massive
silver doorplate stood out clearly. He
had known instinctively that that house
had been part of his life, and yet
tremor caught him as he read the name
l-ST1RES. The intuition that had bent
his steps from the street. the old stir
ring of dead memory, had brought him
to his past at last. This house had been
his home!
He stood looking at it with trouble
in his face. He seemed now to remem
Der the wide colonnaded porch, the tall
fluted columns, the green blinds. Clear
ly it was unoccupied. He remembered
the scent of jasmin flowers. He re-
membered-
He started A man in his shirt
| sleeves was standing by half-open
side door, regarding him narrowly
lHIQhl0P OF DlSIup ! ne query
was good humoredly satiric. cor may
be Just looking the old ranch over with
a view to n shake.downl
The trespasser smiled grimly. It was
not the first time he had seen that
weather beaten face. You have given
up surgery as profession, l see, no
said.
The other came nearer. looked at him
in a puzzled way, then laughed.
IF it ism I the card-sharp we picked
up on the railroad track!' he said,
"dog and all! I thought you were far
down the coast, where it's warmer.
Nothing much doing with you, eh?"
Nothing much" " answered the man
descript watchman whom chance had
set here could not. He knew him only
as the dingy vagabond whose broken
head he had bandagcd in the box
carl
81 m in better luck, - went on the
man in shirt-sleeves. 81 struck this
about two months ago, as gardener first.
man. They gave me bunk in The
summer house there he jerked his
thumb backward over his shoulder
"but / know a game worth two of that
for these cold nights. III show you.
1 can put YOU up for the night he
added. If you like.
The wayfarer shook his head. "I
must get away tonight, but m much
obliged.
"Haven t done anything, have you7'
asked his one-time companion, curious
! ly. "You didn u seem that sort"
The bearded face turned away "I m
not wanted by the police, no, But
IN on the move, and the sooner / take
the trail the better. l don t mind night
| travel