The Fairmont West Virginian. (Fairmont, W. Va.) 1904-1914, 1913-09-09
I'HE
DEUCE OF
HEARTS
By Earl Defr Biggers
Ss@ss?@@@@8@a
cowashG 1908. BY Bsni. 8. Hampton

from the card room OF the ArgOts
I Club Into the deserted library.
Z Billy Meredith. the elder Of the two.
held out his hand.
II guess we'd better say good.by
here, Jimmy" He spoke In low
Cone.
The man addressed-Ji Jimmy Grant
did not reply. His UoyIsh face was
very pale and stolid, like that Of u
man who has been through tragedy
too deep for him to understand.
For Heavens sake, don't look like
that" Meredith went on, with shud.
der; this is better than for both OF
us to clear out I'm sorry It's me, but
I'm mighty glad 1t isn't you. You
stay, Jimmy-Qnd have Il good time,
boy
Grant spoke. His voice was harsh
and unnatural where are you go.
ingg lie asked.
= iQh, ! don't know" Meredith an.
swered. "I'll hide somewhere. Don't
Z you. worry.
He put out his hand again, and
seized that Of Grant.
"Good.by, Jimmy" he said brave.
lyi don't let them be too hard On me.
We were in 1t together boy"
He walked to the door opening into
the hall, and turned, the light Of his
great friendship shining In his eyes.
"Good-by, Jimmy" he repeated. He
disappeared. Grant stood looking
after him, his lips parted. Once he
took step as though to follow Mere.
dith. But finally he turned. and walk.
ed softly back into the card room.
It was warm spring evening. and
q preezet born seemingly in far.off
fields, swept gayly through the streets.
! Crowds hurried to and fro; from afar
came the crash of the elevated; occa-
slonally was heard the roll of wheels
over the smooth asphalt. In the dis
Z lance reluctant street piano ground
out tune new to Meredith. but
ancient to the ennuied policeman who
balanced himself on a nearby curb.
Suburban couples bound from the
trains to the bright street of the the.
tiers passed chattering gayly of home
affairs. Hundreds of advertising
lamps internationally pasted lurid lie.
gends against starlit sky.
Here was life as Meredith had pic.
tured 1t through the years of exile; in
these very colors had he painted his
brilliant paradise, while he sat wait,
ing for Heaven knew what in for,
gotten tropic town. A dreary surf had
pounded eternally at its shore; green
palms wayered forever against the
steel gray background Of the noun.
tafns. There had been an impossible
hotel on the hot balcony OF which
Meredith had lolled life away in a
haze.of smoke, lighting each cigarette
at the glowing stump of its predeces-
sor. There he had drunk bitter brandy
with wrecks that had once been men,
and amidst Gods forgotten he had
waited and wondered. in town that
3 knew neither hope, nor happiness, nor
treaty Of extradition.
A very dirty newspaper, much be.
thumbed, once in long while reached
/. him with the other eager exiles, CLEAN.
ed from these chance messengers lit.
{ tie news save that home was sweet.
and far. And when, after long time.
Z he dared to write to the man who.
like himself, was guilty, his letters
we're unanswered. The Others-those
who had believed, trusted-he had not
had the heart to inform of his where
abouts. Then came the day when the
drink turned bitterer than usual In
his throat, when the cigarettes sick.
ened, and he left forever the balcony
wherein he had lived ten years Of
life. He came north on the obscure
steamer, to find himself, this pleasant
night in spring, in the city of his UNI
fortunate youth.
It was the memory OF that youth,
walking with him in the streets, that
kept his step slow and in the shadow.
AS he stood in the entrance to the
park he fancied he saw approaching
man he had once known, and he
drew tremblingly farther back into
the darkness. The man passed by, a
stranger. Meredith came forth and
started on his way, ashamed OF the
cowardice which was by no means
physical, but the result Of an over
sensitiveness which had damned him
from boyhood.'
n His aimless way carried him at
length into desoiate street which he
had known in other days as boy
knows his own dooryard. After a few
PAGES, he stood, with sort of sob in
his throat, looking up at the Argots
Club House.
There 1t stood, the club Of his father
and grandfather, grim and stately as
his. staid ancestors themselves, in the
half light. But two or three OF Its
windows were aglow. Often, in the
years Just passed, he had pictured
himself, head up, shoulders back
marching into the Argots as OF old
Z and handing his coat to the servant
Who had met his father at that door
lie remembered the club was SMALL
ind, at that hour, usually deserted,