The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-02-07
HaOrn0 0 E E Ea 8l N
From the Play by WILLIAM J. HURLBURT


 ed out q print from the book.
 'It was taken some ten years ago, l believe, bUS iI s a good Hkeness,' Mrs. Mason remarked as she handed 1t to her.
 Anna glanced at 1t, then stepped back breathing hard.
 "This Burton Temple?" she stam- mered increduIously-
 Mrs. Mason was occupied in reDlac- ing the album and did not notice how her face had suddenly gone white. nor did she hear the pain of her under the breath whisper, ''The old, unknown prince of my dreams"
 Anna threw the photograph down in Q little parcxysm of dis0ain.
 Don't like his face?'' queried Mrs. Mason, looking up-
 "It isn't that" She laughed bitterly, the sort or laugh which had first wis ited her frs a year ago among the honeysuekl. vines. "It's another ideal smc cshed, that's all. Mrs. Mason. do you know" she tapped the likeness contempt uously, 'T used to pass this man nearly every day when I was in ForbeR o19ce-that was the first and only i'tenoErapher's position I ever held-coming in and out Of the Ex- change building. I never knew who he was, but there was a something about him, set of the jaw, a swing of the shoulders, all integrity and force-something that stamped him to me as vital and eager, prince among men. He carried his head up. his chin forward. He seemed to be cleaving his way manfully through life. He was the fairy prince of my girlish dreams. On, wish-I wish it hadn't been hep There was & very childish tremble in the brave mouth, but she went on:
 Amid all the discriminating mud they cast at the big successful men of the day I've always clasped this mans picture to my heart, saying, Here's one at least who is fine and straight and big"
 There was an unutterable, dumb loneliness in the young face, a forIorn lingering of the fingers, as uncon- sciously she touched the discarded pie ture once again. One has seen wo- man look just in the same way as she has touched the clothes of her little dead child.
 And now, instead of being fine and straight and big, he's Cnprfnctpled and scheming and vicious, Ike all the rest. Bang goes another ideal, Mrs. Mason. He's the nan who has branded the fa- ther of my boys as n thief
 ''S-shr' cried Mrs. Mason warnfn~ly again. There were heavy strides com ing down tke corridor. The door of the library opened abruptly. Anna Granger had just time to collect her self as the president of the Gotham entered, followed by Cato, his huge mastiff.
 You'll have to jump right in and take up the work where my secretary left off, Miss Dale," said he after the few preliminaries of courtesy had been exchanged. 'I shall give you,' way ing his hard vaguely, ''the keys to the city. There are 70 limitations. You will receive my nail and open it." He paused for a second "No; there Is one source of communica ton I wish to remain private. Anything coming to me from the New York detective bu- reau you will kindly hand to me un- opened"
 Precisely, MT. Temple agreed the new secretary without the quiver of an eyelash. The president of the Gotham Trust company continued:
 'Frcm now on l shall have an un- usual amount of exacting business in connection with this Granger case. You may have heard of it?"
 ''Yes,'' assented she, unbuttoning her glove.
 Another thing, Miss Dale-a large portion of the time I sEan require you to be up here. There are some days, of course, when you will be free to go to your own home, but practically l shall want you to live ia this house. My mother Is abroad just now. I'm sorry. Mrs. Mason will make you comfortable in her absence, l trust, and now shc ~ill show you to your room. Come down again when you've settled yourself if you are not too tired. There's plenty of work waiting. see" He turned to his much filtered desk as his housekeeper conducted Anna to her room, and Cato settled down be- fore the fireplace.