Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1913-11-22
ONES
es .;Ii Ss ~ Y. .

was staying in the hotel, and paying
for Its best rooms.
But the manager was perfectly civfi.
The presence OF DIR. Scarth, a repu-
table looking stranger, gave evidence
that something important was afoot
Mr.. Arson was in his rooms at the mo-
ment. Their names would be sent up.
DIR. Scarth, quick to appreciate the
difficulties of the situation. intervensd
quietly:
''Is he alone?"
Yes"
Then It will be better II you ac-
company US in person. An unpleasant
matter can be arranged without undue
publicity"
This was alarming. The manager
went with them Instantly They
paused at the door indicated
Come with me-" said Philip, turn.
ing the handle without knocking
Grenier, intent on the perusal Of
letter he had just written, looked UP
quickly
He was face to face with Philip An
son.
TINE one man stood. the other sat,
gazing at each other in a silence
that was thrilling.
| DR.. Scarth and the hotel manager en-.
tered noiselessly. and closed the door
behind them. Grenier, adroit scoundrel
that he was, was bereft of speech, OF
| the power to move. He harbored no
delusions This was no ghost coming
| to trouble his soul In broad daylight
| It was Philip Arson himself, alive, ard
in fun possession of his senses, a more
terrible apparition than any visitor from
beyond the grave. His presence In that
room meant penal servitude for life for
! Victor Grenier. a prison cell instead OF
palatial chambers. bread and skilly In
place of Carlton luncheons
No wonder the scoundrel was dumb.
that his tongue was dry. He went cold
all over, and his eyes swan
! Philip advanced toward him. Grenier
could not move. He was glued to his
chair.
"Who are your" said Arson. sternIy.
No answer. AS yet the acute brain
refused to work. Lost-ruined-no es-
cape-were the vague ideas that jostled
each other in chaos.
Can you not speak? Who are you
that dares to usurp my name. after
striving to murder me?"
No answer. The shifty eyes-the eyes
or a detected wandered stu
pidly from Philips set face to that OF
the perplexed hotel manager. and the
gravely amused doctor.
Philip never used strong language,
but he was greatly tempted at that
moment.
"Confound you!'' he shouted. WHY
don't you answer me?"
"I-I-my name is Philip Arson The
ueanseer--the-bank."
AS a spent fox win vainly try the
last desparing device of climbing a
tree in full sight of the hounds. so did
Victor Grenier evolve the desperate
scheme that perha ps-perhaps-he might
carry out feeble pretense OF self-assera
ton.
If only he could get away, into the
crowded stations, into the streets, siHk
into obscurity while the chase swept
past, he might yet endeavor to escape
you, Philip Arson! You vile inn
poster! am sorely inclined to wiring
your neck!' -
Philip came nearer. In sheer fright
lest the other might give effect to his
words Grenier again backed his chair
violently. 1t caught against a thick
rug and he fell headlong. For an In
slant they all thought he had hurt him.
self seriously.
The doctor and manager ran to pick
him up, but he rose to his knees and
whlned:
II will tell everything l mean. there
is some mistake. Look at my letters
my bank books They are Philip An
sons. Indeed, there Is a mistake,
To Be Continued Monday.