Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1912-08-20
"The Gates of Silence :"
By Meta Shmmins, Author OF FLUSHED Up

out Of the gaunt face of A44? he asked
himself
His fingers trembled on his breast and
ms FPS moved. In all his life he had
never felt such heart-sickness as he felt
now when he thought of the manner of
nus parting from the misera BILE convict
Whoi had cast his fugitive tag of Omar
hhfyyam at him in a moment of chagrin
what on earth had made him lose his
temper; he whose watchword was
BLESSED are the merciful?"
A Dash for Freedom.
THE fortnight he had been forced to
Spend in the prison infrmary had been
q godsend to Rimington, the relaxation
of discipline. the improved food and en-
forced rest, made almost a new man of
him. More than once the thought oc-
CURED to him that he owed his deten-
ton more to a kindly impulse on the part
of the doctor than to the actual state of
his health; the man. after his kind was
rough tongued and more than inclined to
cynlclsm, but Rimington had feeling
that his disposition toward him was not
unfavora BILE.
Whether or not that feeling was true
mattered little enough to Rimington He
felt warm gratitude toward the doctor,
and when, on the morning of his dis
charge from the infrmary, he certified
him as fit for work with the outdoor
gang, his eyes lighted up with a flash that
drew a shrewd glance from the medical
officer
THAT suits your book, eh?''
AS the doctor put the question, Rim
lngton felt culver run over him Could
1t be possible that this man suspected
that thought which had never been spoken
did his secret cry aloud from his eyes?
He felt mask drop over his features
every muscle stiffened.
Yes, sir. More healthy than the in
door work, sir he said. and could have
imagined that the doctor winked
Better than the tailor's shop and The
Btlmouth Bulletin? What" and Rim
ngton drew a breath of relief The doc
tor attributed his anxiety to get back to
the harder outdoor labor to his dislike
to the close association of the workshops
and the ugly talk that circulated there.
Yes, sir" he said again, in a stolid
and noncommittal manner and with an
other sharp look at him the doctor went
out. He was not quite sure in his own
mind regarding A A. There were times
when he believed him to be entirely in
nocent of the charge brought against him
and others when his belief wayered. To-
day was one of them-for the first time,
it seemed to him, there was a shifty look
IN the mans eyes. Then, since he was
an eminenty just man, this prison doc
tor, he gave the prisoner the benefit of
the doubt and dismissed him from his
mind, Life at Bilmouth and kindred in
M TO
forwardness, and he had only too keen
conception of how near to the animal
man can descend during a long term of
Imprisonment
Making Plans.
The snow had disappeared and the
earth was sopping with the moisture of
a thaw, following a weeks frost, on this
first day with the gang; all the natural
conditions were favorable to an attempt
to escape, Rimington thought. as he
worked He would be the better able to
sustain the exposure and hunger that
would be inevitable. Every day as he
went out he examined the ground and
his surroundings eagerly, surveying them
with the care of a general, testing their
strategic possibilities. and every night as
he lay III his bed in the darkness and felt
the chill of the prison wrap about him
like a shroud, Rimington calculated the
chances Of escape, narrowed them down
and weighed them, and every night and
every morning, with something of the di-
rect simplicity of child, he prayed for
the browning mercy of a fog.
There was something of madness in his
brooding, since surely sane reflection
must have shown him the hopeless folly
of the thing he meditated. With friends
and accomplices at hand to provide money
and change of raiment, even then the
chances of permanent escape We're almost
Enthusiastically problematical; but playing a
lone hand, as he did-without money,
without a goal-what earthly chance did
he stand?
To Be Continued in Next Issue.