The Montgomery tribune. (Montgomery City, Mo.) 1892-1910, 1910-08-05
CHAPTER n.
A Torn Telegram.

house, and went back to the city at
once The sur had lifted the mists,
and a fresh summer wind had cleared
away the smoke pail. The boulevard
was fun of cars flying countryward
for the Saturday half-holiday, toward
golf and tennis, green fields and bab-
bling girls. l gritted my teeth end
thought of Mcknight at Richmond.
And then, for the first time. associ-
ated John Gilmore's granddaughter
with the West that Mcknight had
irritably flung at me.
1 still carried my travelling bag, for
Meningitis vision at the window of
the empty house had not been without
effect. did not transfer the notes to
my pocket, and, II l had, 1t would
not have altered the situation later.
Only the other day Mcknight put
this very thing up to me.
II warned you," he reminded me.
81 told you there were queer things
coming, and to be on your guard. You
ought to have taken your revolver"
1T would have been OF exactly as
much use as a bucket of snow in
Africa" ! retorted. IF l had never
closed my eyes, or II l had kept my
finger on the trigger of a ~six-shooter
(Which Is novelesque for revolver),
the result would have been the same.
And the next time you van a little
excitement with every variety of thrill
thrown in, I can put you by way of 1t.
You begin by getting the wrong berth
in q Pullman car, and end
ooh, / know how it ends" he fin
ished shortly. Don't you suppose the
whole things written on my spinal
marrow"
But am wandering again. That is
the difficulty with the unprofessional
story-teller: He yaws back and forth
and can't keep In the wind; ne drops
his characters overheard when he
hasn't any further use for them and
browns them; he forgets the coffee
pot and the frying pan and all the
other small essentials, and, II he car
ries a love affair, he mutters a fer
vent allah be praised" when he
lands them, drenched with adventures,
at the matrimonial dock at the end of
the final chapter.
/ put in a thoroughly unsatisfactory
afternoon. Time dragged eternally. l
dropped into a summer vaudeville, and
bought some ties at a haberdasher's.
I was bored but unexpectant; l had
no premonition of what was to come.
Nothing unusual had eve happened
to me; friends of mine had some
times sailed the high seas of adven-
ture or skirted the coasts of chance,
but all of the shipwrecks had occurred
after a woman passenger had been
taken on. Ergo" / had always said
mo women!" I repeated 1t to my
self that evening almost savagely,
when 1 found my thoughts straying
back to the picture of John Gilmore's
ate my solitary dinner at a downtown
restaurant.
Haven't you troubles enough" l
reflected, without looking for more?
Hasn't Bad News gone lame. with a
matinee race booked for next week?
Otherwise aren't you comfortable?
Isn't your house in order? Do you
want to sell a pony in order to have
the library done over In mission or
the drawing room in gold? Do you
want somebody to count the empty
cigarette boxes lying around every
morning."
Lay 1t to the long idle afternoon, to
the new environment, to anything you
like, but / began to think that per-
haps I did. ! was confoundedly lone
2y. For the first time in my life its
ven course began to waver. The
needle registered warning marks on
the matrimonial seismograph, lines
vague enough, but lines.
My alligator bag lay at my feet,
still locked. While / waited for my
coffee LEANED back and surveyed the
people incuriously. There were the
usual couples intent on each other;
my new state of mind made me re-
gard them with tolerance. But at the
next table, where a man and woman
dined together. a different atmosphere
prevailed. My attention was first
caught by the woman's face. She had
been speaking earnestly across the
table, her profile turned to me-. l had
noticed casually her arnest manner.
her somber clothes. and the great
mass Of odd, bronze-colored hair on
her neck. But suddenly she glanced
toward me and the utter hopelessness
almost tragedy-of her expression
struck me with a shock. She half
closed her yes and drew a long
breath, then she turned again to the
ma across the table.
Neither one was eating. He sat low
III his chair, his chin on his chsst,
ugly folds Of thick flesh %protruding
over his collar. He was probably 80.
bald. grotesque, sullen, and yet not
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