The Ocala evening star. [volume] (Ocala, Fla.) 1895-1943, 1912-06-03

! gulitless OF single pen-scratch.
/, crump.ed them into a wad and threw
| it from him.
| What more do | need to prove thar
he's conspiring to steal the Pool of
| Flame and claim for himself the re-
ward? - a bankrupt. discred.
tied, with nothing but his title and
his fame as dreIist to give him
! standing; is it wonderful that he's
! grasping at any chance to recoup his
! fortunes?' He took a swift stride to-
ward the door. halted, turned. And
| young Glynn?" he demanded. Was
| he with you, and was he thick with
| this precious rogue of a yiComte?"
| They were much together
Faith, then it's clear as window
| glass that the two of them, both
broke, have figured out this thing te-
tween them. Well and good.
| want no more than hint of warn
! ing. -
He was interrupted by a knocking
With a start and a muttered exclama-
ton he remembered Van Einem, and
| stepped to the door and out into a cor
ridor, shutting the woman in.
She remained where he had left
her, her pretty brows knitted with
thought, for a time abstractedly con-
scious of a murmur of voices in the
! hallway. These presently ceased as
the speakers moved away. She turned
to one of the windows, leaning against
its frame and staring at the ominous
| iii
which lent the night a CHASTITY lumin-
| osity
A cool breeze sprang up, bellying
| the curtains. The woman expanded to
1t, reviving in it's fresh breath from
| the enervating influence of the even
! ing's still heat Her intuitive facul-
| ties began to work more vivaciously;
she began to divine that which had
been mysterious to her ere now.
The lightning grew more intense
| and incessant, the thunder beating the
long roll of the charge. A heavy
gust of air chill as death made her
SILVER. She shrank away from the
windows, a little awed, wishing for
| O'ROurke's return, wondering what
had made him leave her SO abruptly.
Then suddenly she knew . .
She could have screamed with hor-
| rOr.
Almost simultaneously the door
slammed; her husband had returned.
With little cry she flung herself
upon him, clinging to him, painting,
sobbing.
Tell me-" she demanded, what you
intend to do? Do you mean to fight
him-Des Trebes?"
I'm the morning" he answered
lightly, holding her tight and comfort
ing her. IT'S unavoidable; | pro-
voked his challenge. He was obliged
to fight But don't let that worry
We
'Oh. my dear, my dear" She
sobbed convulsively upon his breast
Twill be nothing-hardly that; an
annoyance-no more. Believe me-
dear"
What can you mean-?
THAT the man will never consent
to weapons worthy the name. He
values his precious hide too highly
and he's not going to put himself in
the way of being injured when he has
the Pool of Flame to steal Be easy
on that score, darling-and have faith
in me little. I'll not let him harm
me by so much as a scratch
"Ah, but how can | tell?
Dearest, my dearest, why not give it
up-not the duel alone, but all this life
of roaming and adventure that keeps
Us apart? Am | not worth a little
sacrifice? Is my love not recon-
pense enough for the loss Of your alb
solute independence? Listen, dear,
have thought of something; l will
make you Independent, | will settle
upon you all that | possess. L"
Faith, and l know ye don't for ar
instant think I'd dream of accepting
that"
But give it up. What is the world
esteem when you have me to love and
honor you? Come to me, Ter
ence. l need you-I need you desper
ately. l need the protection of your
arm as we'll as your name. | need my
husband"
Il will he said gently; "sweetheart
I promise ye l within ninety days
Give me that respite, give me that
time in which to make or break my
fortunes. Give me a chance to take
the Pool of Flame to Rangoon-nay
meet me there in ninety days. | will
come to you as one who has the right
to claim his wife; but if | have lost
still will | come to you, a broken mar
but your faithful lover-come to you
to be healed and comforted.
Dear heart of me, give me this las
chance,"
With an eldritch shrek and {
mighty rushing wind the storm broke
over the mainland and a roaring rair
came down.
Impulsively the Irishman turned of
the lights, and, lifting his wife in his
arms bore her to an armchair by the
window.
The storm waned in fury, passed
died in dull distant mutterings. Still