The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-08-07

 / IT thought you didn't care for thea ters-and girls, HOwlandv' he exclaim- ed banteringly. "A pfetty face affects you a little differently up here, eh?
 Rowland interrupted him sharply.
 "Did you ever see either of them before, Gregson?"
 "Never until today. But there's hope, old man. Surely we can find some one in the place who knows them. Would not it be jolly good fun if Jack How land, Esq. who has never been in- terested in theaters and girls, should come up into these God forsaken re- gions and develop a case of love at first sight? If I had only seen her \ sooner"-
 'Shut up." growled Rowland. Lets go in to supper"
 Good. And I move that we inves- tigate these people while we are smok- ing our after supper cigars. 1t will pass our time away at least.:'
 "Your taste is good, Gregson," said Rowland. recovering his good humor as they seated themselves at one of the
  1nwardly he was convinced it would be best to keep to himself the incidents of the past two days and nights. ''It was beautiful face"
 And the eyesw added Gregson, his own gleaming with enthusiasm. "She looked at me squarely this afternoon when she and that dark fellow passed and swear they're the most beautiful eyes I ever saw. And her hair"-
 Do you think that she knew you?" asked Rowland quietly.
 Gregson hunched his shoulders.
 "How the deuce could she know me?"
 "Then why did she look at you so 'squarely? Trying to flirt, do you sup pose?"
 Surprise shot into Gregson's face. By thunder, no, she wasn't firtingr he exclaimed. ''I'd stake my life on that. A man never got a clearer, more sinless look than she gave me, and yet Why, deuce take it, she stared at met I didn't see her again after that. but the dark fellow was in here half of the afternoon, and now that I come 10 think of it he did show some interest in me. Why do you ask?''
 "Just curiosity" replied Rowland. "I don't like f1irts.''
 Neither do I,'' said Gregson mus ingly.
 It was not until they were about to leave the table that Howland's eyes ac- cidentaliy fell on Gregson's right hand. He gave an exclamation of astonish- ment when he saw that the little finger was missing. Gregson jerked the hand to his side.
 "A little accident" he explained. You'll meet lem up here. Rowland"
 Before he could move the young en- gineer had caught his arm and was looking closely at the hand.
 "A curious wound,- he remarked without looking up. Funny didn't notice it before. Your finger was cut of lengthwise, and here's the scar run ming halfway to your wrist. How did you do it?'
 He dropped the hand in time to see a nervous flush in the others face.
 'Why-er-fact is, Rowland, it was shot off several months ago-in an ac- cident, of course'' He hurried through the door.
 As they passed from the dining room inte that part of the inn which was half bar and half lounging room, al- ready filled with smoke and dozen or so picturesque citizens of Le Pas, the rough jowled proprietor of the place motioned to Rowland and held out a letter.
 "This came while you was at SUD- per, NIT. Howland," he explained.
 There was no name at the bottom of what he read. It was not necessary, for glance had told him that the writing was that of the girl whose face he had seen again that night:
 Forgive me for what have done." the note ran. Believe me now. Your life is in danger. and you must go back to Eto- mani tomorrow. If you go to the We back
 "Thr 1evilw he exclaimed.
 'WL..'s that:" asked Gregson, edg- ing around him curiously.
 Rowland crushed the note in his hand and thrust it into one of his pocisets.
 "A little private affair."" he laughed. Come, Gregson, let's see what we can discover"
 In the gloom outside one of his hands slipped under his coat and rested on the butt of his revolver. Until 10 o'clock they mixed casually among the populace of Le Pas. Half a hundred people had seen Croisset and his beau tfful companion. but no one knew any thing about them. They had come that
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