The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1912-10-04
CHAPTER X-(Continued).

'Jes and l do not tire Of our
friends" she rebuked. "But beyond
that, how can any one tell what will
happen? We can just live our best
every day and wait to see further.
Sometimes things get twisted wrong"
What is the matter? What Is twist
ed wrong, Miss F1oyd?"
She shook her head, smiling across
her shoulders at him.
Nothing nothing but me. Only
feel disgustingly gloomy tonight; as If
Jes and l were very far apart Never
mind, I wish you all good luck and
victory for the race"
What was that song you were sing
ing on the first day came here?" he
asked irrelevantly.
She hesitated, then struck few
chords upon the piano. THAT"
Eyes. Will you sing it to me,
now?"
With her charming trick of prompt
obedience, she at once seated herself
at the instrument.
1t was no ornate classic, no love
song, that the velvet-and-gold central
to voice braided into Stanton's mem
DRY, to be in the near future torture
more acute than physical pain and per-
sonal grief
"Oft, in the Silly night
Ere slumber's chain hath bound me,
Fond memory brings the light
OF other days around me-"
That was the quaint stiff melody of
fifty years before, that Jessica Floyd
sung to Stanton before they parted.
On reaching home, an hour later,
Stanton found a letter awaiting him
from the assistant manager, Green. It
was dated from Long Island, and re-
minded him that the course would be
open for the last days practice next
morning during the early hours.
"The car is at last ready, and If
you see Jes Floyd, tell him that we
can not get along without him any
longer" ran the concluding sentence.
Stanton put down the letter, frown-
ing at 1t in irritated establishment.
Had not Floyd gone to prepare for the
race, with Green and by his direct Or
der? How then could he, Stanton,
know anything about his mechanician
and why did not Green know every
thing? Possibly Floyd had been kept
at the Mercury factory; but in that
case Green would surely have sent
there for him, instead of trusting to
the faint chance of Stanton's encoun-
tering him. Of course Floyd must be
ready to go out for the delayed prac-
dce work next morning-Stanton rose
impatiently; Of course he would be
ready.
A thought like a needleprick halted
him when halfway across the room, a
wild fancy. Could it be conceived
credible that Valerie Carlisle did wish
TO prevent the Mercury car from rae
ing, and, failing to reach the driver,
might attempt to keep away the mech
anician she knew to be so valuable
He recalled his own strange illness on
the eve of the Massachusetts race
On an impulse beyond restrain, he
turned to his telephone; there would
be some one to tell him of Floyd at
the factory, for it was working night
and day to fill it's orders.
Eyes, 337 Frenchwood," the thin
voice finally came along the wire
Eyes, Mercury. Mr.. Stanton? Wait
The instrument roared vilely; he
knew 1t was the din of the huge en-
gines he heard across thirty miles Of
distance.
Hello" another voice took up
through the drone. Stanton? This
Is Mr.. Bailey. What? Oh, why Floyd's
gone on" there was a blank clicking
to Long Island tonight" was faint
ly resumed. Hell be on his job whe1
you need him. Stanton; go bit easy
on the poor kid. He isn't machine.
Stanton exclaimed something ugly
and hung up the receiver with a snap
ALLEY was fool. he mentally sneered
and Green was another, and he him
sell the third. AS for Miss Carlisle
A