Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-10-19

Va
nearby and going on a wild-goose chase
which, whether successful or unsuccessful,
must end unproftably. Hernia had paid
him In strange coin. Could she afford it?
He knew something of Pierre de Folligny
What did Hernia know? She was mad, of
course. He had thought her mad before
when she had volunteered with him for
Vagabondia; but now-what could he
think of her now? There was difference
Even his pipe failed to advise him. He
knocked it out and wandered forth, his foot
steps taking him down the street through
which the pair had fed. He followed it tc
its end, emerging presently on country
road that took the line of the railroad to the
south. He did not know where he was
going and did not much care so long as he
was doing something. His stride length
ened, his jaw was set, his gaze riveted on the
spot where his road entered the forest. 1t
would have Jared i'll with De Folligny if they
had met at that moment.
His responsibilities oppressed him. He
must find her and bring this mad pilgrimage
to an end. Tomorrow, tonight perhaps he
would put her on a train that would take her
back to the people of her own kind, or he
would go upon his way-his own way, which
he was now sure could no longer be hers
Emerging from the forest, the road took
sharp turn away from the railroad tracks
down hill and across level plain. From the
slight eminence upon which he stood his road
lay straight as a string before him, its length
visible for almost mile. Near its end he
saw dark object at the side of the road. A
wagono Or was it motor? This was the
way De Folligny had GOMEZ for there had
been no turnings. He hurried on, his gaze
on the distant object, which grew nearer at
every step. He was sure of one thing now,
that the object had not moved; of another
thing, that it was not a motor. And yet
there was something familiar about it. A
wagon it was, wagon with a roof, its end
showing window which caught the reflec-
ton of the sky, house wagon, and near it,
phantomlike against the dim foliage, a
shaggy gray horse; to the right, the white
smoke of a newly made fire rising among the
trees. 1t was the camp of the Fabiani FAM
lily, and there in the woods was his friend of
a night, Cleofonte the incompatible.
HE had almost made out the bulk of fig
= ures near the fire, when from the hedge
beside the road there came sounds of tink-
ling bells, and a small wrath in red and
blue rose like phenix from the dust and
confronted him with OutStretched hands.
"You are late, Philidor. I've been waiting
at least half an hour"
"You've been-what?'
waiting for you,' coolly. "What kept
you so long?'
He looked at her as though sure that one
of them must have lost his senses. "Where
is De Folligny?' he growled.
"How should | know"
He took her by the elbows and looked into
her eyes. "He has gomez
"Yes."
what happened"
"N-nothing.
She met his eyes with clear gaze, whim-
steal smile twisting her lips. 4You know,
Philidor,' she said quietly, II don't like to
be kissed, unless unless She stopped
and slowly disengaged her elbows from his
grasp, unless want to be kissed"
He searched her face anxiously. ale
he kissed you?' he snapped savagely.
almost
"Did he?"
"No.' She smiled up at him. "You see,"
amusedly, "every time he put his arm
around me the drum and cymbals played.
1t quite disconnected him."
But Philidor found no amusement in her
recital. "How do you happen to be here?"
His tone was still querulous. She looked
at him calmly, and after a pa,se she an
swered evenly.
1--WE were driving slowly. l saw the house
wagon and RECOGNIZED it at once So /