The silver messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1890-1912, 1908-06-02
SERlALA
THE HOUSE OF
A THOUSAND
CANDLES
BY MEREDITH NICHOLSON
Author Of THE MAIN CHANCE" ZELDA
CAMERON" Etc.
Copyright 1905 BY BObbs-alsrrill Co.
cHAPTER XIX.-contInued.

CHAPTER Xlx.-continued.
Tut! They don't all marry the sons
of brewers" | retorted. You assured
me once, while your affair with that
Irish girl was on, that the short upper
lip made Heaven seem possible, but
unnecessary; then the next thing |
knew she had shaken you for the
bloated maltster. Take that for your
impertinence. But perhaps it was
Bates?"
did not wait for an answer. l was
not in a mood for reflection or nice dis
tinctions. The man came in just then
with a fresh plate of toast.
Bates, Mr.. Pickering has learned
that was away from the house on the
night of the attack, and I'm ordered off
for having broken my agreement to
stay here. How do you suppose he
heard of it so promptly?"
From Morgan, quite possibly. /
have a letter from Mr.. Pickering N.Y.
self this morning. Just a moment,
sir"
He placed before me a note bearing
the same date as my own. 1t was a
sharp rebuke of Bates for his failure
to report my absence promptly by
wire, and he was ordered to prepare to
leave on the first of February. "Close
your accounts at the s~hopkeepers' and
| will audit your bills OF my arrival"
The tone was peremptory and con-
t%emptuous. Bates had failed to satisfy
Pickering and was flung off like a
s~moked-out cigar.
How much had he allowed you for
expenses, Bates?"
He met my gaze imperturably.
"He pays me $50 a month as wages,
sir, and l am allowed SIS for other ex-
~penses."
But you didn't buy English pleas
ants and champagne or that allow
ANGEL" #.
He was carrying away the coffee
tray and his eyes wandered to the win
dows.
Not quite, sir. You see"
But l don't see!"
ut had occurred to me that as Mr..
chickering's allowance wasn't what you
might call generous it was better to
augment it, Well, sir, l took the lib
erty of advancing a trIle, as you might
say, to the estate. Your grandfather
would not have had you starve, sir"
He left %hurriedly, as though to escape
from the consequences of his words,
and when l came to myself Larry was
gloomily invoking his strange Irish
gods.
Larry Donovan, I've been tempted
to kill that fellow a dozen times! This
thing is too damned complicated for
me. l wish my lamented grandfather
had left me something easy. To think
of it-that all the time I've been ours
ing and abusing Bates since / came
here I've been enjoying his bounty
and he's been giving me the fat of the
land, just because of his devotion to
my grandfather's memory. Lord,
can't face the fellow again!"
"As l have said before, you're rather
lacking at times in perspicacity. Your
intelligence is marred by large opaque
spots. Now that there seems to be a
woman In the case you're less sane
than eve Bah, these women! And
now we've got to go to work"
Bah, these women! My own heart
caught the words. l was enraged and
bitter. No wonder she had been anx.
ious for me to avoid Pickering in Gin.
c%innati, after daring me to follow her
there!
We called a council of war for that
night that we might view matters in
the light of chickering's letter. His
assuredness in ordering me to leave
made prompt and decisive action
necessary on my part. l summoned
stoddard to our conference, feeling
confident of his friendliness.
"Of course" said the broad-shoul
dered chaplain, eff you could show that
your absence a on business of very
grave Importance, the courts might
construe in your favor"
Larry looked at the ceiling and blew
rings of smoke languidly. I'had no
disclosed to either of them the cause
Of my absence. On such a matter
knew l should get precious little sym
pathy from Larry, and l had, more
over, a feeling that l could not discus.
Marian Devereux with any one; l ever
shrank from mentioning her name
though it rang like the call of bugle.
in my blood.
She was always before meth,
charmed spirit of youth, linked t
every foot of the earth. every CLEAN o
the un. upon the ice-bound lake, every
glory of the winter sunset. All tn,
good impulses l had ever stifed wer,
quickened to life by the thought of her
Amid the days perplexities l started
sometimes, thinking l heard her voice
her girlish laughter, or saw her again
coming toward me down the stairs, o
holding against the light her fan will
its golden butterflies. l really knew
so little of her; l could associate he
with no home, only with that last film
Of the autumn upon the lake, the snow
driven woodland, that twilight hour a
the organ in the chapel, those stoleI
moments at the Armstrong;. l re
scented the pressure of the hours a