Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1908-02-22

n Il ness had pro-
"o~@> duced a raging
Studying the figures. thirst. He
punched an electric button with his
f1eshy thumb and prowled around.
waiting. Nobody came. He punched
again and looked at his watch. 1t as
tonished him to find the hour was 8
o'clock in the morning. That discov-
cry, however, only appeared to in
crease his thirst. He opened the hall
door, prepared to descend into the
depths of the house and raid a side
board, and as he thrust his heavy head
out into the lighted corridor his eyes
fell upon two figures standing at the
open door of a bedroom. One was ST.
ward; that was plain. Who was the
girl he had kissed? One of the maids?
Somebody's wife? Who?
Every dull pulse began to hammer
in MOrtimer's head. In his excitement
he stepped halfway into the corridor
then skipped nimbly back, closing his
door without sound.
"Sylvia Lands. by all that's holy"
he breathed to himself and sat down
AdAuGL ouOOGnlg On lnG S0S5C VI Tic OC0s
After awhile he rose and crept to
the door, opened it, glued his eyes to
the crack in time to catch a glimpse
of Siward entering his own corridor
alone.
And that night Mortimer, lying
awake in bed busy with schemes, be-
came conscious of a definite idea. It
took shape and matured so suddenly
that it actually shocked his moral
sense. Then it scared him.
'But-but that is blackmailp' he
whispered aloud. ga man can't do that
sort of thing. What the devil ever
put it into my head? And there are
men l know-women, too-scoundrelly
b1ackguards, who'd use that informa-
ton somehow and make it pay too.
The scoundrelsP'
He squirmed down among the bed
clothes with a sudden SILVER, but the
night had turned warm.
"Scoundrelsp' he said, with milder
emphasis. "Blackmailersi Contempt
bic pupsr'
He fell asleep an hour later, mutter-
ing something incoherent about scoun-
drels and blackmail.
And meanwhile in the darkened
house from all round came the noise
Of knocking on doors, sounds of people
stirring, a low voice here and there,
lights breaking out from transoms. the
thud OF rubber shod heels, the rattle
of cartridges from the echoing gun
room. For the guests at Shotover were
awaking lest the wet sky, whitening
behind the east, ring with the whim-
pering wedges of wild fowl rushing
seward over empty blinds.
The unusual stiffness of the house in
the late morning sunshine was pleas
ant to Miss Lands. She had risen
very late, unconscious Of the stir and
movement before dawn, and it was
only when a maid told her as she
came from her bath that she remem-
bered the projected point shooting and
concluded with an odd, happy sense Of
relief that she was almost alone in
the house.
A little later, glancing from her bed
room window for q fulfllment Of the
promise Of the sun which a glimpse
of blue sky heralded, she saw Leila
Mortimer settling herself in the for
ward seat OF a motor car and Beverly
Plank climbing in beside her, and she
watched Plank steer the big machine
across the wet lawn while the machin-
ist swung himself into the tonneau,
and away they rolled, faster, faster,
rushing out into the misty hinterland
where the long streak of distant forest
already began to brighten, edged with
the first rays of watery sunshine.
So she had the big house to herself,
every bit of it, and with it freedom
from obligation, from comment, from
demand or eXaction; freedom from re-
straint; liberty to roam about, to read,
to dream, TO idle, to remember. All,
that was what she needed-a quiet in
teryal in this hurrying youth of hers
to catch her breath once more and
stand still and look back day or two
and remember.
So to breakfast all alone was de-
Iicious; to stroll unhurried to the side
board and ieisurely choose among the
fresh cool fruits; to loiter ove- cream
tug and cereal; to saunter out into the
freshness of the world and breathe it
and feel the sun warming cheek and
throat and the little breezes from a
sunlit sea stirring the bright strands
of her hair.
Out over the rain wet odorous grass
she picked her way, skirts swung high