The Washington herald., 1911-02-08
CHAPTER III.
A Plaster Statuette.

FitZgeralds s view from his club win
dow afforded the same impersonal out
look from a window in a car. 1t
was the two living currents, moving in
opposite directions, each making toward
a similar goal. only in a million different
ways, that absorbed him. Subconsciously
he was always counting. counting, now
by fves, now by tens, but invariably
found new entertainment ere he reached
the respectable three numerals of an
even hundred. Sometimes it was a silk
hat which he followed till it became lost
up the avenue, and as often as not he
would single out waiting cabman and
speculate on the quality of his fare, and
other whimSies.
That this was such and such a woman
or that was such and such a man never
led him into any of that gossip SO COM
mon among clubmen who are out Of
touch with the vital things in life. Even
when he espied friend in this mysteri-
Gus flow of souls there was only a tran
sient flash Of recognition in his eyes.
When he wasn't in the tennis courts or
the billiard or card rooms he was gener-
ally to be found in this corner. He had
seen all manner of crowds. armies pur-
suing and retreating, vast concords in
public squares. at coronations. at catas-
trophies, at play, and he never lost in
terest in watching them; they were the
great expressions Of humanity. This is
perhaps the reason why his articles were
always so rich in color. No two crowds
were ever alike to him, consequently ne
never was at loss for a fresh descrip-
ton.
To-day the Italian vender of plaster
statuetteS caught his eye. For an hour
now the poor wretch hadn't even drawn
the attention of one of the thousands
passing. Fitzgerald felt sorry for him,
and once the desire came to go over and
buy out the Neapolitan; but he was too
comfortable where he was, and beyond
that. he was expecting a friend.
Fitzgerald was thirty, with A clean
shaven. lean, and eager face. russet in
tone, we'll offset by the fine blue eyes
which had the faculty Of seeing little and
big things at the same time. He had
dissipated in a trifihg fashion, but the
healthy. active life he lived in the open
more than counteracted the effects. A
lonely orphan, possessing lively imagi-
nation, is seldom free from some vice or
other. There had never been. however,
what the world Is pleased to term entan-
clements. His guardian angel gave him
a light step whenever there was any So
cial thin ice. Oh. he had some relatives;
but as they were neither very rich nor
very poor, they seldom annoyed one an
other. He was, then, a free lance in all
the abused word implies, and he lived as
he pleased, spending his earnings freely
and often carelessly, knowing that the
little his father had left him would keep
a moderately hungry wolf from the door,
He had been born to q golden spoon. but
the food from the pewter one he now
used tasted just as good.
so here you are! I've been in the bill
lard room and tho cardroom. and the
barroom."
Talking Of barroons!'' Fitzgerald
reached for the button. "Sit down. Hew-
lit, old boy Glad to see you. Now. I'll
tell you right of the bat, nothing will
persuade me. For years I've been jump
ing to the four points Of the compass at
the beck Of your old magazine and syn
dicate. I'm going to settle down and
write a novel,"
"Pin1e!" growied the editor. dropping
his lanky form into chair. Thank
goodness. they haven't swivel chairs in
the club. I've been whirtng round in
cne all day-a long. tall Scotch. please
but a novel! i say. pime!"
TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW.