Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1912-06-21
TODAY'S INSTALLMENT.

1t was in the nature of a grievance to
Mrs. Ames that her lodger had not as
he had stated his intention of doing, va
Gated his rooms some ten days back His
plans had been changed suddenly, and he
Ike Decome that mopey," as she said to
Ames in the privacy of the basement, that
for ALI that up till then this tain ad
bin of the good luck as was a-comin' to
i'm, it's my belief that the young chaps
bin losin' money-on that there horse
racin', and as like as not Wen stand to
lose our rent"
All these thoughts seemed epitomized in
the look she cast at Rimington as she
spoke.
Yes, it seems too bad to have been
forced to lose so much glorious river
weather" Rimirgton said: but | shall
be going down to Weybourne this after
noon"
He was thankful for the shrll summons
from the bowels of the basement that
cut short the landlady's voluble express
sions of qualification and hurried her
away
Certainly it was no desire that had
kept him mewed up in London. Business
called him most insistently to Westport-
business that it was not possible to con
most seemed as though all his rosy hopes
In the matter of the explosive might be
doomed to disappointment: but he had
simply not dared TO leave London while
Edmond Levasseur, Fate's catpaw lay
under the shadow of the rope. He seemed
bound by a horrible fascina ton to remain
to watch the changing dance of shadows
wind their way about the maze of mys
terry surrounding the house in Tempest
street
The Spell Broken.
But now the call of duty had broken
the spell that held him. His uncle was
i'll, dying perhaps, Mrs Rimington's mes
sage ran, and they both needed him. So
today he would go back to the old Red
House by the river. which he had not
visited since the day he had asked Betty
Lumsden to be his wife. And there he
would be at least near to the girl he
oved-the girl who saw in him now only
the boy comrade of ten years before.
He had a curious superstitious feeling
that it was by the very direct interven-
ton of Fate that he was going back to
Wcybourne TO-DAY.
Day and night he had been fighting his
desire to go down and see Betty again;
to go down. not because he loved her not
because she was sore stricken and needed
his love and help more than ever now;
no-Heaven helm him!-not because of
that but because of the dread, That had
been growing vampre-lik in his heart,
that somewhere in one of those brain cells
over which this terrible veil of childish
forgetfuness had crept in night, like
the white yelling mists from the sea,
there lay knowledge that could save
man. who, whatever HIS sins. was at least
innocent of murder, from the gallows.
If only Betty could speak, If only the
veil could be lifted. The wheels of the
train, running through the scorched coun-
try beat out these sentences like bur
den and refrain. If only Betty could
speak.
His aunt met him at the white gate of
the garden, a little white wicket gate,
half hidden beneath a Mass of overhang
ing greenery and towering shrubs
The rank vegetation of riverside over
grew the footpath His progress from the
station had been through a miniature
jungle. 1t was like finding ones way to
the entrance of the palace of the Sleep
ing Beauty, he told the pale little lady
who offered her cheek to him in greeting.
you are fantastic, Jack Her voice
was as colorIess as her face, and yet
managed to convey reproof 81 am aware
how sadly the garden is neglected; but,
in the present state and condition of your
uncles income, it is not possible for us
to keep things as one would wish they
should be kept. regret that reproach
should come from you.
"Reproach! Aunt Deb!' Jacks voice
was full of honest distress. Indeed, you
mustn't think that l was complaining, for
I simply love the place. | wouldn't have
it altered in the smallest particular. 1t
is as dear to me as it is to you-you know
that well enough
The little lady smiled primly as he put
his arm through hers, but he was never
thoroughly at ease under her smiles.
They seemed so aloof-to be directed by
some unspoken thought. not always to,
the credit of her companion.
He felt something of the same feeling
when she thanked him for responding to
her appeal to visit his uncle.
A Dreaded Meeting
Your uncle will be glad to know you
are in the house
That was all but it was said in such
tone that Remington felt he would have
preferred reproach for his unwonted alb
sence.
His aunt's manner quickened his dread
of the coming interview with his uncle
always d difficult old man, and in the sick
room well nigh unbearable. But today he
found him less acrid and bitter than usual;
David Remington had been chastened by
two days and two wakeful nights of pain.
you've come" he said. "WeH, one
must be obliged, ! suppose" His thin lips
curved little lone must be obliged,
since youth is not what it was; youth
knows nothing of the obligations of duty.
And now, having appeared and paid your
respects to the tiresome old folk you'll
be wanting to rush out and visit our neigh
bors at the Croft? Well, go; perhaps you
may prove more welcome visitor there
than sometimes YOU have done. There
are odd rumors about the folk there: and
in these past days I have dreamed dreams
about proud George Lumsden and his
beautiful daughter Pride goes before