Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1913-10-28
TO-DAY IS INSTALLMENT
ant, 1904. by Edward j. Clod

L
If they knew the toast that Jockey
Mason had pledged so readily they
would have better grasped the truth of
this unfavorable diagnosis of his char
/ acter.
Ten years penal servitude, four
years police supervision, my wife dead
and my children lost, all through a
smack on the head given me by Philip
Anson," he communed. Here's to get
ting even with him.
il was a strange outcome of his long
Imprisonment that the man should have
acquired fair degree of culture. He
was compelled to learn in jail, to GER
tain extent, and reading soon became
a pleasure to him. Moreover, he picked
up an acquaintance with a smooth
spoken mate of the swell mobsman and
long firm order-a dandy who strove to
be elegant even in convict garb Ma
! sons great strength and indomitable
courage appealed to the more artistic
! if more effeminate rogue; once the big
man saved his comrades life when they
were at work in the quarries
The influence was mutual. They
vowed lasting friendship. Victor Gre
nier was released six months before
| Mason, and the latter now crossed the
| river again to an address where he
would probably receive some news of
his protested ally's whereabouts
| Grenier's name was impaired under
invioable confidence as that which he
would adopt after his release. His real
name, by which he was convicted, was
something far less aristocratic.
Philips driver, being of the peculiar
| type of. Londoner which seems to be
created to occupy the dicky OF ham
som, did not take his master down Park
lane, along Piccadilly, and so to Pail
Mall He loved corners. Give him the
remotest chance of following a zigzag
course, and he would follow 1t in pref
erence to a route with all the directions
| of a Roman road.
| Thus 1t happened, as he spun round
| Carlos place into Berkeley square, ne
nearly collided with another vehicle
which dasked into the square from Da-
vies street.
| Both horses pulled up with jerk,
there was a sharp fusinade of what
cabmen call "langwidge." and the other
hanson drove on, having the best of
| the strategical position by stolen
yard.
/ Philip lifted the trap door.
Has he a fare, Wale?"
! Yes, sir, a lydy."
ooh Leave him alone. then. Other
wise | would have liked to see you ride
him off at the corner of Bruton street.
| Vale, who was choleric. replied with
! such force that Philip tried to say,
sternly:
| stop that swearing, Vale
Beg pawdon, sir; I'm sure, but l
wouldn't ha' minded if it wasn't my
own old keb. Didn't you spot it?'
You don't tell me so. How odd!'
And TO think of brewers drayman
like that gettin' old of it. Well
| Vale put the lid on in case his en-
ployer might hear any more of his SEN
timents.
| Philip, leaning back to laugh. for
Wales vocabulary was amusing, If not
! fit for publication, suddenly realized the
queer trick that even the events in the
life of an individual have of repeating
themselves.
In one day, after an interval of many
years, he had been suddenly confronted
! by personages connected with the Pc
! riod of his sufferings, with the very gar
ments he wore at that time. with the
cab in which he drove from Clerkenwell
| to Hatton Garden. Abingdon had sent
| him a message; his driver, even, was
the cabman who made him present OF
two shillings, most fortunate transact
ton for Vale, as it led 10 his selection
to look after Philips London stable,
All who had befriended the forlorn boy
in those early days had benefited to an
| extraordinary degree The coffee-stall
| keeper who gave him coffee grounds
and crusts, the old clothes man who
cut down the price of his first outfit,
! Mrs Wrigiey. going hopelessly to her
| toll in a Shepherds Bush laundry; Mr..
! Wilson, of Grant g. Sons, the kindly
| ieweler of Ludgate Hill, were each
sought out, and either placed in a good
business or bounteously rewarded for
| the services they had rendered. O'Brien.
of course, was found a sinecure office
at the Mary Arson Home.
As for the doctor, he owed his Harley
street practice to the millionaire's help
and patronage.
| 1t is worthy OF note that Philip never
wore a watch other than that pre-
scented to him by the police OF the
| Whitechapel Division.
1t was an ordinary English silver
lever. and he carried It attached to a
| llnotted bootlace.
| Did he but know how far the histori-
cal parallel had gone that day--how