Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1913-11-18
lZIX|NNlls s.:

mems OF their work. for they under
| stood both the stitching and stamping OF
| leather, and once he found himself dul
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. robbing dead man and
plotting desoation to some girl He
must be dealt with.
Then he, the slayer, must be slain,
and by his own hand. He would spare
his sons as much pain as might be with
in his power.
He would not merely disappear. leav
ing them dubious and distressed. No.
They must know he was dead, not by
suicide, but by accident They won d
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, thar
was it-a life for 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 q ticket-of-leave father.
Yes, l know You are good boys, and
II won't be any moro pleasant for me
TOTO live away from you, than II would
be for you--under-other conditions-to
be separated from me. Butt am In
earnest in this matter. / will stop here
tonight just to feel that ! am under
the same roof as you. It is your roof,
not mine. Long ago lost the right to
provide you with a shelter. To- morrow
| go away have some work to do
a lot OF work. II must he attended to
at once OF course, you will see me,
often we can meet in the evening
go out together-but live herewith you
Il can't"
His sons never knew the effort that
his speech cost him, He spoke with
such manifest hesitation that While,
who quickly interpreted the less pro-
nounced signs of mans thoughts,
winked warning at his brother.
He said. with an optic signal:
|
mot 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
cied his father, delivering him fet-
tered to the torture. bound hand and
foot body and soul
a T last they all retired to their
~ rooms, the boys to whisper kind
4 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 dispelled the dark
plant oms that fitted before mis- vision.
| lie teu into "a htIul SluIlDeI, uiSluiD Su
by vivid dreams. Once he was on a
storm swept sea at night, on sinking
ship, a ship with a 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 a
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:
rs there no way in?"
And the captain turned corpselike eyes
toward him 1t was Philip Arson. The
! dreamer uttered wild beasts howl
and shrank away.
} Then he awoke to ind 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 o'clock.
AT that hour a policeman left his cot
tage in a village on the Yorkshire coast
Q and walked leisurey toward the Grange
4 House
\ - II traversed four miles Of rough
e 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
|, in the country al that hour
= He examined three sides OF the build
:. ing carefuliy-the sea front was mac
cessible-and waited many minutes be-
! fore he knocked at the door. There was
! no answer. He knocked again more
: loudly. The thtrd time his summons
! would have aroused the Seven Sleep
y ers. but none came.
: He tried the door. and ratified il
peered in at the windows. stood back
in the garden, and looked up at the bed
| rooms
"A queer business" he muttered, as
y ne turned unwllllngly 10 leave the place
{ "AN very queer business" he said
l.