Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1913-11-18
TGS|zILNXINll:
S3II!11lSys E32:I;S 1i|7 SS iSEEE:

tudleu lHpH recital % ptCdHioidl cum
ments that showed he appreciated every
point He examined with interest speci-
mems Of their work, for they under
stood both the stitching and stamping Of
leather, and once he found himself duly
specializing as to what career he would
have carved out for himself were he
given in boyhood the opportunities they
rejoiced in.
But throughout there was in his sur
charged brain a current OF cunning pur-
pose First, there was Grenier, away in
the North. robblng a dead man and
plotting desolation to some girl He
must be dealt with.
Then he, the slayer. must be slain,
and by his own hand. lie would spare
his sons as much pain as might be with
in his power
lie would not merely disappear leaV-
ing them dubious and distressed, No.
They must know he was dead, pot, by
suicide, but by accident They would
mourn his wretched memory. Better
that than alive with the abiding grief
of the knowing that he was Philip An
| sons murderer.
He was quite sure now that the dead
would arise and call for vengeance II
he dared to continue to exist. Yes, that
was ia life for a life-a prayer that
his deeds might not bear fruit in his
chiIdren-and then death, speedy, Ger
tain death.
Some reference to the future made by
Willie. the younger. who favored his
mother more than the outspoken John.
gave Mason an opportunity to pave the
way for the coming separation.
81 don't want you two lads to make
any great changes on my account" he
said slowly 1T is far from my inten-
ton to settle down here, and let all
your friends become aware that you
are supporting a ticket-of-leave father.
Yes. / know. You are good boys. and
it won't be any more pleasant for me
TOTO live away from you, than 1t would
be for ou-under-other conditions-to
be separated from me. Butt am In
earnest I'm this matter l will stop here
tonight Just to feel that | am under
the same roof as you. 1t is your roof,
not mine. Long ago l lost the right to
provide you with a shelter. Tomorrow
go away. | have some work to do
lot OF work. II must be attended to
at once. OF course, you will see me,
often. We can meet in the evening
20 out toge ther-but live herewith you
i can't"
His sons never knew the effort that
his speech cost him lie spoke with
such manifest hesitation that Willie,
who quickly interpreted the less pro-
nounced signs of mans thoughts
winked a warning al his brother
He said, with an optic signal:
A Horrible Dream.
Not a word now. John. Just leave
things as they are.
Under any ordinary conditions he
would be right He could never guess
the nature of the chains that encir-
cled his father. delivering him fet-
tered to the torture. bound hand and
foot. body and soul
a r last they all retired 10 their
II rooms, the boys to whisper kind
n ly plans for keeping their ia
Their a prisoner again in their hands;
Mason to lie, open-eyed, dry-eyed,
through the night. mourning for that
which might not be.
The rising sun dspelled the dark
phantoms that fitted before mis- vision.
He fell into a fitful slumber, disturbed
by vivid dreams once he was on a
storm-swept sea at night. on sinking
ship, ship with crew of dead men,
and a dead captain at the helm.
Driving onward through the raging
waves, he could feel the vessel settling
more surely, as she rushed into each
yawning caldron, Suddenly. through the
wreck OF flying spindrift he saw
smooth harbor. a sheltered basin, in
which vessels rode in safety. There
were houses beyond with cheerful lights
and men and women were watching the
doomed craft from the firm security OF
the land
But, strain his eyes as he would, he
could see no entrance to that harbor;
naught save furious seas breaking over
relentless walls of granite
Even in his dream he was not afraid
He asked the captain, with an oath:
lis there no way i'm"
And the captain turned corpselike eyes
toward him 1t was Philip Arson. The
dreamer uttered wild beasts howl.
and shrsnk away.
Then he awoke TO find Willie standing
by his bedside with soothing words.
1T is all right. father You were dis
turbed in your sleep Don't get up yet
1t is only 5 o'clock.
At that hour a policeman left his cot
tage in a village on the Yorkshire coast,
and walked leisurely toward the Grange
House
He traversed four miles Of rough
country, and the sun was hot SO he
did not hurry. About half-past six he
reached the farm. There were no signs
OF activity such as may be expected
i'm the country at that hour.
He examined three sides OF the build
ing carefully-the sea front was mac
cessble-and waited many minutes be-
fore he knocked a the door. There was
no answer. He knocked again more
loudly. The third time his summons
would have aroused the Seven sleep
ers, but none came,