Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1909-11-01

Amber II you'll wait bit can fix you
up something 'ot."
THANK you. Doggott. that won't DO
necessary: the sandwiches look mighty
good to me-"
Thank you, sir. VIII there be any,
thing else, Mr.. Rutton?'
IF there Is I'll call YOU"
Yes. sir. Good night. sir. Good night.
AS Doggott shut himself out of the
room Amber lifted his fragrant glass.
You're joining me. Rutton?"
With all my heart" The man came
sake. David. Shall We drink toast?'
He hesitated, with a marked air of EN-
barrassment, then impulsively swung his
glass aloft. Drink standing" he cried.
his voice oddly vibrant. And Amber
rose. ITO the king-the king, God bless
him.
ITO the king" 1t was more an ex-
clamation of surprise than an echo to the
drink to the final drop. AS he resumed
his seat the room rang with the crash or
splintering glass: Rutton had dashed his
tumbler TO atoms on the hearthstone.
Weir" commented Amber. lifting his
brows questioningly. You are sincere.
Rutton But who in blazes would ever
have suspected you OF being British
subject?"
But it seems to me I should have
Known
What have you ever really known
about me. David. save that / am my
self?'
"Well-when you put it that way-little
enough-nothing." Amber laughed nerv-
ously disconnected.
And L? Who and what am To- No
answer was expected-so much was plain
from Rutton's tone; he was talking to
himself more than addressing his guest.
His long brown fingers strayed TO the box
and conveyed a cigarette to his lips; STAR
ing, dreamily into the fire; he smoked !,
mean. this eternal + round which the
world revolves?" His voice trailed on
into silence.
Amber snapped the tension with
chuckle You can search me-" he said.
irreverently. And his host returned his
smile. Now. will you please pay atten-
ton to me. my friend? Or do you wish
me to turn and rend myself with curios-
ity-after I've attended to these exceiient
sandwiches? Seriously, / want to
know several things. What have you
been doing with yourself these past three
years."
Rutton shook his head gravely. Il
can't say"
You mean you wont?'
eff you will have it that way"
"Well 80 / give you up"
That's the most profitable thing you
could do. David"
But, seriously now, this foolish talk
about hiding is all joke. isn't IL?
NO" said Rutton. soberly: mo. it's no
Joke" He sighed profoundly "As for
my recent whereabouts, 1 have been-ah
travelling considerably; moving about
from pillar to post" To this the man
added a single word. the more significant
in that it embodied the nearest approach
to a confidence that Amber had ever
known him to make: Hunted"
Hunted by whom?
II beg your pardon" Rutton bent for
ward and pushed the cigarettes to Am
ber's elbow. Il am-ah-so preoccupied
with my own mean troubles. David. that
/ had forgotten that you had nothing TO
smoke. Forgive me-.
That's no matter, i
Amber cut short his impatient cate
chism in Difference to the others mute
plea. And Rutton thanked him with a
tween friends, are more eloquent than
words Signing, he shook his head, his
eyes once more seeking the flames. And
silently studying his face-the play or
light from lamp and hearth throwing its
features into salient relief-for the first
activity from the stupor the bitter cold
had put upon them. noticed how time
and care had worn upon the man since
they had last parted. He had never sus-
pected Rutton to be his senior by more
years than ten at the most; tonight. how
ever he might well be taken for fifty
were his age to be reckoned by its ac-
cepted signs-the following of cheek ana
temple. the sinking of eyes into their
sockets. the deepening of the maze OF
lines about the mouth and on the fore-
head.
Impulsively the younger man sat up
and put a hand upon the arm Of Rut-
toms chair. What can I do?" he asked.
simply.
CTo be continued tomorrow