Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1909-11-02
CHAPTER IV-Continued.

Rutton reused. returning his regard
with a smile slow. charming. infinitely
sad Nothing" he replied. "absolutel.
nothing"
But surely"
mo man can do for me what 1 can
not do for myself When the time comes
he lifted his shoulders lightly-'I will
| do what 1 can. Till then ." He di
verged at a tangent. After all. the
world Is quite as tiny as the WORKOUT
aphorism has it. To think that YOU
should find me here! It's less than 9
| week since Doggott and I hit upon thi!
place and settled down, quite convinced
we had, at last. lost ourselves - and
might have peace for a little space al
least"
Amber glanced curiously round the
room: sparely furnished. bare, unlovely
| 1t seemed a most cherries sort of spot
| 20 be considered haven of peace.
And now" concluded Rutton, 1--WE
have to move on
Because I've found you here?"
Because you have found me-"
II don't understand.
MY dear boy. never meant you
| should"
But If you're in any danger"
You're not. But you just said"
I'm in no danger whatever; humanity
| is IL I'm found.
81 don't follow you at ALL
Again Rutton smiled YEARLY. II didn't
expect you to. David. But this misad-
venture makes 1t necessary that j should
tell you something; you must be made to
| believe in me. l beg you to; I'm neither
| mad nor making game of you. There
was no questioning the sane sincerity OF
the man. He continued slowly. Its a
simple fact, incredible but absolute. that
were my whereabouts to be made public
great. staggering blow would be
struck against the peace and security OF
the world. Don't laugh, David:
mean IL"
I'm not laughing, Rutton; but you
must know that's pretty large order
Most men would"
Call me mad Yes. l know" Rutton
took up his words as Amber paused. con-
fused. II can't expect you to understand
me-you couldn't unless 1 were to tell
you what l may not. But you know me
better. perhaps. than any living man
save DOggOtt and one other. You
know whether or not | would seek to de-
Jude you, David. And. knowing that
could not. you know why IT seems to me
imperative that this hole being discov-
cred. Doggott and / must betake our
selves elsewhere. Surely there must be
solitudes-" He rose with a gesture of
impatience and began restlessly to move
Amber started suddenly. flushing. IF
Rutton's kindly hand forced him back
into his chair. "Sit down, David.
never meant that-never for an instant
dreamed you'd Intentionally betray my
secret It's enough that you ~hould know
it, should occasionally think of me as be-
ing here to bring misfortune down upon
me. to work an incalculable disaster to
the progress of this civilization OF ours.
You mean," Amber asked, uncertainty.
thought transference?"
Something Of the sort-yes.' The man
came to a pause beside Amber. looking
down almost pitifully into his face. II
daresay all this sounds hopelessly melo-
dramatic and neurotic and tommyrotic.
David. but $50 l can tell you nothing
more. I'm sorry"
But only let me help you-any way in
my power. Rutton. There's nothing I'D
not do ."
II know. David. I know 1t. But my
powerless to apply remedy myself
And you are powerless?'
Rutton was silent a long moment. Then.
Time will tell" he said. quietly. There
notonous round Of the room.
Mechanically Amber began to smoke.
trying hard to think, to penetrate by rea-
soning or intuition the wall of mystery
which ii seemed Rutton chose to set be-
tween himself and the world. The In
tense earnestness of the mans Hopeless
confession had carried conviction. Am
Der believed him, believed in the reality
of his trouble. and. divining 1t dimly, a
monstrous, menacing shape In the vague
ness of the unknown. was himself dis
mayed and a. little fearful. He owed
much to this man, was bound to him by
ties not only of gratitude but Of affection,
yet. finding him distressed. found himself
simultaneously powerless to render aid.
Inwardly mutinous. he had to school
himself to quiescence; lacking the conf
dence which Rutton SO steadfastly re-
fused him. he was impotent.
Presently he grew conscious that Rut-
ton was standing as IL listening, his eyes
averted to the windows. But when Am
Der looked they showed, beneath their
half-drawn muslin shades. naught save
the gray horizontal rush of snow beyond
the panes. And he heard nothing save
the endless ravlng of the maniac wind.
ewhat is it?' he inquired at length.
unable longer to endure the tensity of the
pause.
Nothing. I beg your pardon, David"