The enterprise. [volume] (Harlem, Mont.) 1899-1926, 1909-01-13

his character to believe that he would
conquer even Death until his iron will
had accomplished his purpose.
gathered him into closer embrace
against my throbbing heart.
Don't try to find my slayer he
resumed after time. tits no use.
The strikers didn't do it. They are
innocent. The key on my watch
chain" A pause while he painted for
breath and then he continued, broken
ly, Secret awer-desk-explains all.
Goodbye"
I searched his desk for the secret
drawer, supposing it was the big roll
er-top one at his Office to which his
| laborious duties held him SO constant
| slave. But it contained no secret
drawer, so turned my attention to his
| room. 1t was my first visit to his
! apartments and / was amazed at the
| baroness of them. The back room was
| fitted up as sleeping apartment. 1t
was not carpeted and it contained
| only a bed, dresser and washstand of
the cheapest kind. Everything about
it suggested direst poverty. 1t was
| as barren as priests cell.
l could not account for this, as I
knew that Majors made an excellent
salary and his appearance had always
been prosperous. Sorely troubled by
| this discovery, turned my attention
| to the front room 1t was almost as
bleak as his sleeping quarters, except
| for an easy chair, several cases of
books, and richly carved mahogany
desk which would have set col
| lector's heart beating at dangerous
rate. I saw at glance that this was
| the desk that Majors had referred to.
One of his keys opened it and looked
| about for the secret drawer. 1t didn't
| take long to locate it but I experienced
i some difficulty in opening it. Within,
found tin bond-box which the tiny
! key from his wo.cn chain unlocked.
1t contained two packets, one ad-
| dressed to mo.
Opening the latter packet l found
| letter with my name upon it and I set
about reading 1t at once.
Dear Friend: I am within the shadow
Of death as T write. A danger which has
lowered over my unfortunate head since
|
me. There is no escaping 1t. If it were
my secret alone, I would confide in you.
| but 1t is not mine and / must let it die
with me. I am writing this so that sus-
| picion will not attach to the strikers
should I be found dead, for they will
| have nothing to do with my assassina-
ton. do not know when or how it will
come, but do know that the end is not
far off and I thank God for it. I have
no relatives and none will come to claim
my body or the little property that I
leave. I want you to take my desk.
books, and easy chair, the only pleasures
that have had in life, for it is right
that they should go to you who have
been my only friend.
| Since my earliest recollection I have
nursed my secret sorrow and endeavored
to wait with patience for the blow that
| shall fall upon me when it Is least ex-
pected. You came into my life at one Of
| it's darkest periods and you have come
into it again at a time when I needed
| friend more than even in my college
days, and yet could not then nor can
| now confide to you the trouble that Is
gnawing at my vitals and keeping my
| soul tortured as poor spirit was ever
punished in the mystic hell of the blind
| est bigot.
Do not search for my slayer 1t will
profit you nothing. Your search will be
in vain. My only apprehension Is that
some of the strikers may be suspected of
| my murder. 1 have one more favor to
| ask of you abjure you, by the friend
ship for me and your hope of happiness
| beyond the grave, to burn every vestige
of paper within the desk where you will
find this letter, especially being careful
to destroy the packet in the secret draw
err. If you care to examine these papers
you are at liberty to do so, but l would
prefer, for your own sake, that you avoid
this.
Good-by, my friend.
One of the pictures was of bright
eyed, laughing cherub of five or six
years. The other, was the girl, bios
somed into the radiant beauty of
perfect womanhood. have never
seen a prettier face nor more kindly
and loving one. know that my friend
had loved her and that there was moth
ing strange about this, but whether
she was sister, mother or sweetheart
only the cold heart of my friend
knew and his secret was safe forever
more.
Copyright 1908, by W. G. Chapman)
| Copyright in Great Brittany
|
Calculating Childhood.
t. l. ty~n~r