The Detroit times., 1913-01-16

taste for fictitious horrors, usually in
dulged In. however. by his own warm
fireslde, he found the present time
and place slightly disquieting: and
then Bits singular aud erratc be-
havior had rather weakened his
nerve. From under knitted brows he
eazed into the room. The storm rat
tied the shattered windows above his
head the dingy sign creaked on It's
rusty fastenings, and with each fresh
gust the bracketed lamps rocked gent
~ TO and fro, and as they rocked
their trembling shadows slid back
and forth along the walls. The very
air of the place was inhospitable, Tor
bidding. and Mr.. Shrimplin was
strongly inclined to close the door
and beat hasty retreat.
Still peering down the narrow room
with its sagging shelves and Uttered
counters, he crossed the threshold.
Now he could see the office, a space
partitioned of at the rear OF the
building and having a glass front
that gave into the store itself Here,
as he knew. stood Mr. McBride's big
iron safe, and here was the high desk.
his heavy ledgers--row after row or
them; these histories OF commerce
covered almost the entire period dur
ing which men had bought and sold in
Mount Hope.
A faint light burned beyond the
dirty glass petition, but the tall meag-
er form Of the old merchant was no
where visible Mr.. Shrimplin ad-
yanced yet farther into the room and
urged by his sense OF duty and his
public spirit. he directed his steps
toward the office, treading softly as
eae-wiaa9 -feaFste- come HPeH the-aF-
expected. Once he paused, and ad-
dressing the empty air, broke the
heavy silence:
"Oh. Mr.. Mcbride, your doors
open!"
The room echoed to his words.
Well" carped Mr. Shrimplin, 81
don't see as it's any OF my business TO
attend TO his business!" But the
very sound OF his voice must have
given him courage, for now he step
ped forward, briskly.
On his right was a showcase in
which was displayed a varied assert
ment OF knives, cutlery, and revolvers
with shiny silver or nickel mount
to a long pine counter, and at the
far end of this was a pair OF scales.
Near the scales on a low iron stand
ard rested an oil lamp, but this lamp
was not lighted nor were the lamps in
the bracket that hung Immediately
above the scales, for behind the coun-
ter at this point was door. the upper
half glass, that opened on small
yard which, in turn, was inclosed by
a series OF low sheds where the old
merchant stored heavy castings, bar
iron, and the like. Mr.. Shrimplin was
shrewdly aware that It was one of
McBride's small economies not 10
light the lamps by that door so long
as he could see TO read the figures on
the scales without their artificial aid.
And then Mr. Shrimplin saw thing
that sent the blood leaping from his
heart, while an icy hand seemed TO
hold him where he stood On the
floor at his very feet was strange
huddled shape He lowered his gaso-
line torch which he still carried, and
the shape resolved itself into the fig
ure OF a man; an old man who lay
face down on the floor, his arms ex-
tended as II they had been arrested
while he was in the very act OF rails
ing them TO his head. The thick shock
OF snow-white hair. worn rather long,
Was discolored just back Of the left
ear, and from this Mr.. Shrimphn's
Mortified gaze was able TO trace an
other discoloration that crossed In a
thin red line the dead mans white
collar: for the man was dead past all
peradventure.
(Continued.)
Business-Iike Printing. No fuss and