Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1912-08-30
TODAY'S INSTALLNIENT.
PART II.

"Confound the brute He looked down
at his hand. The scratch hurt and was
beginning to swell and an ugly little
yellow ridge was rising ominously No
doubt the beasts claws were poisoned
the wound would fester-perhaps he might
lose his hand He sucked the scratch
and cursed the cat again
What the deuce was keeping Jex-was
there anywhere in this place where he
could wash his hand? He glanced toward
the door leading to the staircase, COM
municating with the upper part-he felt
distaste that was more than reluc-
lance to go upstairs. He had not been
there since the day of his wifes death
the dav that had given him back his
freedom.
Much good his freedom had done him!
His thoughts ran in a bitter vein this
afternoon. Betty Lumsden-an his plans
seemed if not to be actually miscarrying,
to be hating ineXplicaby. Remington in
prison safe, barred and silenced for
twenty years, seemed for the present at
least, as effective a barrier a s Remington
young and rich and free Betty was
such a fool-she had given her promise
1t was true, but there was a woeful lack
of flavor in a marriage of barter.
Hang the brute!"
Really, his hand was beginning to pain
him abomnably. 1t was detestable, but
there was no help for It. He must 20
upstairs With his lips pressed against
his hand he went up the stairs, mount
ing them slowly
Ghostly memories came out to meet
him as he pushed open the door at the
top of the stairs and looked in. The in
OIA lint oho
Jenny-a fragrance that had never left
her even in her illness, that even now
had power to conjure up the past, that
rose leaf past of the first days OF their
marriage-still hung family in the air.
The bed was made as though ready for
occupation. Her hair brushes and little
toilet trinkets dainty trifles of tortoise
shell and gold he had given her tricked
out The dressing table, SAKE drew back
with something like a SILVER. What a
sentimental old idiot Jex was! He opened
another door that of the old mans own
bed room this time, apparently. There
We're signs of his cupatiou--huddled
clothes, medley Of queer things, pros
pective stock, apparently, and in the cor
ner what SAKE sought-a hand wash
stand
He poured out water into the old blue
water cooled and soothed it, AS he wiped
# gently he saw that some of its angry
redness had abated.
Caught!
He stood looking about the room with
half amused curiosity as he dried his
hand What queer old cuss Jex was.
His thoughts snapped suddenly. His
wandering eyes had encountered some
thing that stood on table by the iron
bed-a box of dark wood curiously bound
with brass, an oddly familiar looking box
his own, he would swear to that--that
he had thought secure beyond all CUES
ton in the locked safe at the safe de-
post in Chaneery Lane, where 50 many
other precious and dangerous things were
buried under name that no one but him.
self knew, under a com bina ton of let
ters to which no one but himself had the
CleW.
Paul Ssxe's face was not good to see
as he crossed the room and examined the
box by the bed Yes, it was the same
there in the midst of one of the bra ISIS
arabesques were his wife's initials-he
remembered how he had got the shopmen
in the queer old Paris shop to scratch
them there when he had bought it. dur
ing the heyday Of his infatuation for her.
And she-how was il she had retained
have sworn he had sent it with the other
things. Could it be possible that he had
been guilty of an act of such gross care
lessness?
Beads of sweat started to his brown.
If Jex had been tampering with that box!
Was this the explanation of his new atti-
tude of slightly-veiled insolence He laid
frenzied hands on the box
sound, the veriest whisper of a sound
yet enough to make him raise his head
sharply, and as he did So to look into
the dull barrel of a revolver covering
him Samuel lex had returned
He stood in the doorway. a slight, bent
figure. his pale face full of eXultant NAL
ice
"Ah Mr. Paul SAKE. sir" he cried, and
his soft voice was splendid in its irony
MI Paul Saxe-thief! So I've caught
You at the very game"
He leaned there against the jamb of the
door. the revolver held out unwavering In
his hand, long fingered and delicate as
thai of a woman, pouring out a stream OF
vile abuse, under which SAKE fiinched
but which, for the moment, he dare not
resent.
He tried to bluff.
Put down that thing you are holding,
he said. you look such a fool, standing