Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1909-08-06

town and pretending to enjoy yourself
when it's hotter than the seven brass
hinges or hell and you can't think of any
| thing else. Ill do it!''
He stepped quickly to the corner of
the room, where stood the telephone upon
small side table, sat down, and, re-
! ceiver to ear, gave central a number In
another moment he was in communion
ton his attorneys residence.
rs Mr.. Bannerman in? 1 would like
to-"
why. Mr.. Zimmerman! How do you
doi'' ~"
You're looking a hundred per cent
, Bad. bad word! Naughty"
Maitland, of course"
Been out Of town and just got your
note"
Your beastly penchant for economy.
It's not stampedi presume you sent It
| round by hand of the future president
OF the United States whom you now en-
ploy as office boy. And O'Hagan didn't
forward 1T for that reason"
Important, Ell? I'm only in for the
night"
Then come and dine with me at the
Primordial. I'll put the others off"
Good enough. In an hour, then? Good
by"
Hanging up the receiver, MaitlanA
waited a few moments ere again putting
1t to his ear. This time he called up
eSK
requested that person to be kind enough
! to make his excuses to Mr.. Cressy and
bis party" he, Maitland, was detained
upon a matter OF moment, but would en-
deavor to join them at a later hour.
Then, with a satisfied smile, he turned
away, with purpose to dispose of Banner
mans note.
Baths ready, sor."
O'Hagan's announcement fell upon
needless ears Maitland remained mo-
tionless before the desk-transfixed with
amazement.
Baths ready, sor!"-imperatively.
Maitland reused slightly.
VERY well; in a minute, O'Hagan."
Yet for some time he did not move.
Slowly the heavy brows contracted over
intent eyes as he strove to puzzle it out.
AT length his lips moved noiselessly.
"Am | awaken" was the question he
put his consciousness.
Wondering, he bent forward and drew
the tip of one forefinger across the black
polished wood of the writing-bed. 1t lett
a dark heavy line. And beside II, cledI
ly defined in the heavy layer or dust
was the silhouette of hand; woman
hand. small, delicate, Enthusiastically rem
mime of contour az
Wen!' declared Maitland frankly -
am damned!
Further and closer inspection developed
the fact that the imprint had been only
recently made. Within the hour,-unless
Maitland were indeed mad or dreaming
woman had stood by that desk anu
rested a hand palm down, upon II; not
vet had the dust had time to settle anu
blur the sharp outlines.
Maitland shook his head with bewilder-
ment, thinking of the grey girl. But no.
He rejected his half-formed explanation
the obvious one. Besides, what had no
there worth a thief's while? Beyond
few articles of Virtue and bigotry" and
his pictures, there was nothing valuable
I'm the entire fat His papers? But he had
nothing; a handful of letters, cheque
books, a pass book, a tapaned tin des-
patch box containing some business mem
orandn and papers destined eventually
for Bannerman's hands; but nothing ne
gotiable, nothing worth burglars
while.
II was fat-topped desk. of mahogany.
with two pedestals of drawers, all locked
Maitland determined this latter fact by
irving to open them without key; fall
ing. his key-ring solved the difficulty IN
a fifty. But the drawers seemed undls-
turbed; nothing had been either hand
, died or removed, or displaced, so 1ar
as he could determine. And again he wag-
III aide 70 side In solemn
stupefaction.
This is beyond you. Dan, my boy"
And "But I've got to know what 1t
means"
In the hall O'Hagan was shutting i'm
patience. Ponderingt deeply, Maitland re-
locked the desk. and got upon his feet
A small bowl of beaten brass, which he
used as an ash-receiver, stood ready to
his hand; he took II up, carefully blew
II clean of dust, and inverted IT over the
print of the hand. on top Of the bowl
ne placed weighty afterthought in the
shape Of a book.
"O'Haganr
"Waitin, sor."
Come hither, O'Hagan. You see that
deskT'
''Yissor"
"Are you sure?''
"Ah, faith"
IT want YOU not to touch IT, OLA
| gan. Under penalty of my extreme dis
/ pleasure, don't lay a finger on 1t TIL I
| give you permission. Don't dare to dust
it. Do you understand
"Yissor. Very good, Mr.. Maitland.
| CHAPTER II.-POST-PRANDIA
| Banner1nan pushed back his chair 81
| few inches. shifting position the bet
| ter to benefit of a fain air that fan
| ned in through the open window. Matt
| land twisting the sticky stem Of 3
| liuueur glass between thumb and fore
| finger, sat in patient waiting for the
{ lawyer to speak.
!, But Zimmerman was in no hurry; mis-
mood was rather one contemplative and
! genial He was a round and cherubic
| little man. with the face of a guile
| less child, the 'acumen Of a successful
counsel for soulless corporations Chat
| is to say, of a high order), no partic-
ular sense OF humor, and a great APP
| probation of good eating. And Matt
! land was famous in his day as one
! thoroughly conversant with the art of
/ ordering a dinner.
/ That which they had just discussed
! had been uncommon in all re-
( spects; Maitland's scheme of
! courses, and his specification as to de-
! tails had aroused the admiration of the
Primordials chief ana put him on his
mettle. He had outdone himself in his
| efforfS 70 do iusffpe 10 Mr. Maitland