Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1912-02-10

CHAPTER XXI Continued.
"It concerns the bank?" he repeated,
torn by doubt
George shrugged. Let us be going"
"Will it be necessary to call in the
police?"
mo"
81 suppose, them" said Wadsworth
bitterly, wondering, too. over the
strange animosity of this young man
he did not know-"I suppose l must
do just as you say?"
absolutely" Georges teeth came
together with click.
The four of them passed out of the
house, each singularly wrought with
agitation. Fortune walked ahead with
George. Neither spoke. They could
hear the occasional protest from the
banker into Mortimer's ear; but Mort
inner did not open his lips. They came
to the house, and then George whisper
ed his final instructions to Wadsworth.
The latter, when he understood what
was taking place. became wild with
rage and terror; and it was only be-
cause George threatened to warn the
lconspirators that he subsidized.
"And," went on George, IF you do
not obey, you can get out If it the best
you know how. Now, silence, abso-
lutte silence"
He pressed back the grill gate, and
the others tiptoed after him.
Ryanne tipped the third bottle deli
cately. Not drop was wasted. How
the golden beads swarmed up to the
brim, to break into little essences Of
perfume! And this was good wine;
twelve years in the bottle.
"It's like some dream; eh?"
Wallace smacked his lips loudly.
Wallace" chided Ryanne, "you al
ways drink like sailor. You don't
swallow champagne; you sip 1t, like
this
Major Callahan swayed his glass
back and forth under his nose. Smells
like vineyard after a rain
There's poetry for you!" laughed
the butler.
Mrs. Chedsoye alone seemed absorb
ed in other things. She was trying
to discover what it was that gave this
supreme moment so fiat a taste. 1t
was always SO; it was the chase, the
goal was nothing. 1t was the excite
ment of going toward. not arriving at,
the destination. Was she, who con-
sidered herself so perfect, freak after
all, shallow like hill-stream and as
aimless in her endeavors? Had she
possessed a real enthusiasm for any
thing? She looked back along the
twisted avenue of years. Had any
thing really stirred her profoundly?
From the bags of gold her glance
strayed up and over Ryanne. Love?
Love a man so weak that he could not
let be the bottle? She had horror OF
drunkenness, the inane giggles, the at
tending nausea; she had been through
it all. Had she loved him, or was it
because he loved the child? Even
this she could not tell Inwardly she
was Opaque to her searchings. She
stirred restlessly. She wanted to be
out of this house, on the way. The
gold, as gold, meant nothing. She had
enough for her needs. What was 1t,
then? Was she mad? What flung
her here and about, without real pur-
pose?
1--WE could have taken every dollar
from the vault, odlu "oii"~e o-
fully.
But we couldn't have made our get
away with it, observed the butler,
holding his empty glass toward Ryanne
who was acting as master OF cere'
monies.
ga clear, unidentified Million"
unused Ryanne. Unto the cars with
it. over to Jersey City; on to Philadel-
phia: uut there for Europe; quietly
transfer the gold to the various Contln-
entail banks; and in six months, VINO
cou]d trace hair or hide Of it," Ryanne
laughed.
"It's all right to laugh said the
major. But are you sure about Jones?
He could have arrived this afternoon.
.Jmpossible! He left Alexandria
for Naples on boat that stopped but
thirty hours. With Fortune on his
hands he could not possibly sail before
the following week, and maybe not
then. Sit tight. | kno" ,"hat ah
talking about.
"He might cable
$50 he might. But if he mad wed
have heard from him before now. I'm
going to tell you secret. MY name IS
not Ryanne.
1--WE all know that" said the major.
cts Wadsworth Does that tickle
your mind any,"
The men shook their heads. Mrs.
Chedsoye did not move hers.
"Bah! Greatest joke. of the hour.
I'm Horace Wadsworth, and Arthur
Wadsworth, president Of the Merchant
Mechanic bank, is my beloved
brother!"
CAV. damnable wretch"
shock ran through them all. In
the doorway leading to the rear hall
stood George, his revolvers leveled
steadily. Peering white-faced over his
shoulder was the man who had spoken,
Arthur Wadsworth.
CHAPTER XXI
The elder brother tried to push past
George, but old Mortimer caught him
nv the shoulders and dragged him
back.