The Washington herald., 1913-12-21

clad figure. It was moving eastward OF
the south side of the street, as unhur
ried and impressive as a sleep walker.
When half way to Lexington Avenu,
saw the woman stop, look SLOWLY
around, and then go slowly up the step,
| of a red-brick house. She did not ring
! could see, but let herself in with a pas,
key. Once the door had closed on her
sauntered toward this house. To go far
ther, at such an hour, was out of the
question. But 1 made a careful note OF
the street number and also Of the fact
that slip Of paper pasted on the sand.
stone doorpost announced the fact Of
Furnished Rooms"
1 saw not only that little was to bs
gained there, but also that had faced
my second disappointment. So prompt.
Iy swung back to Madison Square and
the fountain where had left the man In
the panama hat I ran my eye from
bench to bench Of sleepers. But he was
not among them.
So went home and went to bed. And
for the first time in weeks felt the
Angel of Sleep stoop over me, of her
own free will 1 fell into sound and un-
broken slumber, and when woke up
Benson, my man. was waiting to an
nounce that my bath was ready.
Two hours later I was ringing the bell
of a certain old-fashioned, red-brick
roomIng house in East Twenty-fourth
Street knew little enough about such
places, but this one was obviously unin-
viting, from the rusty hand rail to the un-
washed window draperies. Equally un-
prepossessing was the corpulent and
dead-eyed landlady in her faded blue
house wrapper; and equally depressing
did 1 find the slatternly and bare-armed
servant who was delegated to lead me up
through the musty-smelling halls The
third floor front, was informed, was
the only room in the house empty-though
its rear neighbor, which was bargain at
two dollars and a half a week, was soon
to be vacated.
/ took the third floor front, without 50
much as one searching lock at its hidden
beauties.
As I stood there a figure in black rus
tied down the narrow stairway and edged
past US in the half-lit hall. The light fell
full on her face as she opened the door
thin as that of a medieval saint from 3
missaL 1t was the young woman I had
followed from Madison Square.
OF this was certain. from the moment
the light fell on her thin-cheeked face.
where anxiety seemed to have sharpened
the soft oval Of the chin into something
masklike in its sharpness. About her.
quite beyond the fact that her eyes were
the most unhappy eyes 1 had ever seen.
hung a mufied air of tragedy, the air
of a spirit both bewildered and bafiied.
But 1 could see that she was, or that she
had been, a rather beautiful young wom-
an, though still again the slenderness of
the figure made me think of a saint from
a missaL
1 was still thinking Of her as followed
the sullen and slatternly servant up the
dark stairs. Once in my new quarters,
1 glanced absently about at the sulphur
yellow wallpaper and the melancholy
antiquities that masqueraded as furni-
ture. Then came back to the issue at
hand.
who is that young woman in black
who happened to pass US in the hall?"
casually inquired.
"She amt nothin'" was the answer.
She's just four-fiush, an also-ran! And
unless she squares wit the madam by
Saturday,, she's goin' to do her washin' in
somebody else's bath tub!'
Though this sordid quartz of callous-
ness ran one silver streak of luck. It
was plain that was to be on the same
floor with the girl in black. And that
discovery seemed quite enough.
I waited until the maid was lost in the |
gloom below stairs and the house was
quiet again. Then 1 calmly and quietly
stepped out into the little hall pushed
open the door of the rear room, and
slipped inside. 1 experienced, as did so, !
a distinct and quite pleasurable quicken
ing of the pulse.
I found myself in a mere cell of a room, |
with two dormer windows facing a dis
orderly vista of chimney pots and brick
walls. On the sill of one window stood |
an almost empty milk bottle. Beside the |
other window was a trunk marked with |
the initials III. W." and the almost OBJ
liberated words Medicine Hat"
About the little room brooded an al
most forlorn air of neatness. On the
bureau stood a half-flled |
carton of soda biscuits. Beside this,
again, lay an empty candy box. From the
mirror Of this bureau smiled down a face
that was familiar to me. It was a maRa-
zine print Of Harriet Walter, the young
Broadway star who had reached success
with the production of Broken Ties"
the same Harriet Walter who had been
July announced to marry Percy Adams.
the son of the traction magnate.
Beyond this, however, the room held
little of interest and nothing Of surprise.
Acting on a sudden and a possibly fool
sh impulse, after one final look at the
Dom and its record Of courageous strug-
gle, 1 took a bank note from my pocket.
olded it, and opened a bureau drawer.
Then 1 stood staring down, with the
irawer still open. for before me lay the
evolver which the girl had carried away,
he night before. from Madison Square.
II