The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-05-16

find him on the pavement before morning. He resolved to go to one o1 the cheaper hotels near the river. and take small chance of recognition. He would have food and three or foul stifr drinks. which, God knew, he needed. He would have a bed and chance to sleep, and sleep late; and then, if they hadn't found him, he could wait until night again, when he might look up some friends whose in- tereet it would be to assist him. AS he reached this decision he found himself crossing Jackson street. This avenue was illuminated by a string of arc-lights hung on @ single line, gem like, through it's entire length. Hard muth paused. He recognized the lived a colored woman who had once been servant in his mothers home; her house would be a surer refuge than a hotel: besides, she would be 8 safe messenger in communicating with his friends. He turned north, and moved along Jackson street toward the river; 1; not another human being was in sight. The only evidence of life was a little light in the watch tower of the signal man who controlled the barriers guard ing the railway crossing. He passed the Chesapeake & Ohio big freight house, through the grilled end of which came that damp odor of traffic blent  He crossed the tracks, and went on throneh the shadows of the colossal pipe and foundry company. One block farther on he paused. On his left two monstrous piles-the city's gas tanks loomed into the twinkltng. frosty night. Against the skyline to his right. a block or two away, was siihouetted the faint tracery of the railway bridge, broken by the battery of smoke stacks above a rambling foundry. About him on the cinders and brick fill-in were old and rustinx boilers, gigantic spools of unused cable, and gnarled and twisted heaps of iron. Tn their midst. chimney of Mandy's cottage. A little fence of uneven and unequal boards made pretence at enclosure. Through the maze of rubbish Hard muth groped his way. He mounted the flight of rickety steps that led up over ment to the house and raped on the door. From within came challenge. Hardmuth answered.:
 e-rhat ou,Mandy? Is George there? Open the door,
 There was ehuff1ing of footsteps. shone through crack in the weather warped panel of the door, a hand fel on the knob. a mans voice asked:
 "Who is i<?"
 "Me, Qeorge-Mandy knows my voice put out tho light before you open the
 The woman.ss voice was heard in
 ..It's Marse Trank-blow out de light. like he done tell you.'
 The light went out; the door opened; i; the prosecuting attorney disappeared into the shadow, a fugitive from jus tice
 The evening after the trial Viola and Clay sat together in the library of the Broollfield house. It had been a day of incident and excitement. 1T must really say good night and let you get some sleep" Viola said, sympathetically?
 "Not before Jack gets home," Clay pleaded Our mothers have consider ately left us alone together; they'll just as inconsiderateiy tell us when it's time to part.
 "My 1aother said it was time half an hour ago.
 .wait until Jack come in,' Clay
 The young darky. Jo. brought in a card.
 .Dey's another reporter to see you, s.send him away" Viola directed. MT. Whipple won't see any more re-
 "wait a minute" said Clay. "who is he?" Jo handed him the card. live got to see this one, Viola.''
 Why got to?'
 Hes a friend I'll see him, Jo.'
 .sYes, suh" Jo left the room.
 "You've said that all day-they're alI friends" Viola remonstrated.
 Well, they are; but this boy espec- ially. It was fine to see you and mother and Jack when I was in that jail-great; but you were there day. times. This boy spent hours on the other side of the bars helping me pass cells would be pretty nearly hell if it wasn't for the police reporters; minis ters ain't in 1t with 'em.''
 10 ushered the reporter into the room,
 "How are you. Ned?'' Clay took his know Miss Campbell, MT. Emmett The reporter nodded affably; Viola bowed.
 Have a chair"
 Thank you" Emmett looked about the warm and luxurious room. "This is different, isn't it?''
 Some" returned Clay, in the nation al habit of llnder-statement
 Satisfied the way we handled the story?' Emmett asked, as he took the offered chair.
 Perfectly: you were just bully. old man."
 .That artist of ours is only a kid, and they work him to death on the Sunday" Emmett explained to Vio- Ia; s'so'-apologetically to Clay-"you understand. don't you?''
 "Oh. I got used to the pictures a year ago."
 There was an awkward pause; then Emmett coughed and proposed: Amy thing you want to say?"
 For the paper?" Viola asked.
 "Yes."
 1T think not" Clay answered.
 Just then Helen and Alice came into the room.
 You have met my mother?'' said Clay. Emmett answered. "No;" and Clay introduced him, adding, proudly: 'This is MT. Emmett, of whom I've told you"
 "Oh, the good reporter!" Helen ex- claimed, appreciatfvely.
 Gee! That would be wonder if the gang heard it!'' Emmett whisper ed, laughingly, to Clay; then in assent to Helen: We. got pretty we'll ac-
 Wont you sit down, MT. Emmett ?'' Mrs. Campbell asked.
 'sThank you. I guess we've covered everything" the reporter continued, in the business-like manner of his profes- sion; "But the chief wanted me to see your son"-turuinE to Helen and then to Clay-"and see if you'd do the paper a favor."
 'If possible-gladly."
 'I don't like the assignment be- cause-well. for the very reason that it was handed to me. and that is be-