Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-07-09


said nothing. He felt her eyes upon him as
he went down. In the lowest hall a negro
lad was doing at telephone desk. He did
not move. Fenton opened the front door;
the boy walked, caught sight of him, and
shouted something. Fenton hurried out,
not daring to run, got down the front steps
with his pulse quickened to fever speed, and
turned toward Broadway.
One glance over his shoulder showed the
patrol wagon still standing at the door of
Madam Oswald few houses away; and
by the opposite curb was a shabby coupe,
with its driver on the box watching the ex-
element Men were running up to the scene
of the raid. One large, pompous looking man
iostled Fenton and nearly knocked him
down; but at last he was free of the crowd
and walked south, his hands in his pockets,
his fingers burrowing in the jewels. Judging
the lights of Broadway safer than dark side
streets, he kept down to the Flatiron Build
ing, and then, looking suspiciously to right
and left, crossing the street whenever ne saw
a pedestrian approaching, he zigzagged to
Fourth-ave and gained 17th-st. Once be-
dizened woman accosted him with wheed
ling voice. Once shabby loafer hailed him,
requesting money for cup of coffee. up
against it, Sir. Can't get work-nothing to
eat for two days!" Fenton did not reply.
The burden of his treasure was horror and
a menace; it seemed as if he would never
reach the restaurant. But at last he entered
the swinging doors and sat down at a table
with a sigh of relief. Here was respite for
awhile till the woman should arrive-if she
ever did arrive. What if she did not?
lie ordered beer and pretzels and took up
IL copy of the @Fiegende Blatter" to
distract his thoughts. The German letters
danced on the page. The pictures had no
meaning. Then, seeing ragged copy of
@The Premier" on the table, he took it up.
1t was tired looking old magazine, half
the pages torn, spotted with eggs and gravy,
having evidently been left in the restaurant
by some patron and read to death by subse-
quent guests. He turned the pages hstlessly,
his mind on other things than storiettes or
descriptive articles. But when he came to
the pages of Fair Women he stopped sud-
denly at a half-page. 1t was the desecrated
portrait of the girl-his wonderful girl with
the whimsical smile and the level eyebrows!
His heart stopped; then he glanced at the
text under the halftone. Part of it was gone.
What remained read as follows:
Miss Belle Ca
One of the seasons most
"Belle Ca it was maddening. Then,
in flash, he recalled the fortune teller's pre-
diction. What was it Madame Oswald had
saido @B. C.-Belle, or Blanche, or Bessie
she's in your life current-you going
to marry her-and marry with money!
Strange how the girl pursued him! Would
Fate indeed bring them together? He cut
out the half-page and put it into his pocket.
There was no time to muse upon this fancy,
his present situation was too compelling. He
resumed his lookout for the mysterious
woman who was coming to meet him.
He had been there scant half-hour when
he saw her enter the door and give quick
glance about the room. Seeing Fenton, she
walked smilingly toward his table.
THANK God you got here all right" she
said as she sat down. Il had narrow es-
cape myself. The police came in; but found
no evidence to hold me. l told them was
rooming in the house and knew nothing. All
the same, | have been followed, and daren't
take the gems. You will have to help me
further"
"See here, said Fenton, ave had enough
: of this! It's little too suspicious for me,
and don't care to get into trouble with the
police
@Its not the police you have to fear most"
she exclaimed.
"Who is it, then?' he demanded nervously
wont you help me?" She shot lam
gushing look at him. Surely she was beauti-